What I Found in My Manager's Office During the Blizzard

To Whoever Finds This Letter,

Hello from Death.

Or the Beyond.

Or the Great Beyond.

Whatever or Whomever you choose to believe in.

I am not entirely sure I’m dead, but being alive would be a long-shot, since I am about to trek out into the snow after spending four long hours trapped in this bank.

What, you may ask, were you doing trapped in a bank while the largest blizzard since the Tuscaloosa Torpedo sent frozen frogs and snowflakes flying around back in 1987?

Well, it’s funny you should theoretically ask that, because as it so transpired, my manager, one Raphael J. DiRonza, called me early this morning as the first few inches were already accumulating on the ground, to tell me that he really needed me to come in and hold down the fort, as if we were bracing for an attack from General Custer instead of a cataclysmic weather event.

But, being the four-time Teller of the Week that I am, I threw on my snow boots and raccoon-fur earmuffs and drove my 2011 Nissan Murano to the bank. A drive that would normally have taken six minutes and forty-three seconds took a whopping nine and a half minutes, and that was with me hitting nothing but green lights.

Once I got there, I was startled to find that I would be the only one “holding down the fort” since all the other employees had refused to come in, a sentiment shared by our loyal customers, who all stayed home as well.

After an hour, it was evident that I would be the only person at DiRonza & Fratzi Community Bank that day, and when I called Mr. DiRonza to ask if I could leave, all my messages went straight to voicemail.

Not wanting to abandon my post without permission, I stayed where I was, until I noticed that all I could see outside was a comforter of white snow that was growing in volume by the minute.

There were no cars on the road, not even so much as a plow, and I knew that I would be trapped inside the bank for some time.

Thankfully, I keep my desk stocked with as many healthy snacks as I am allowed, but when my nerves kick in, so does my peckishness, and I soon found that I had eaten all twenty-six of my Newman’s Own Raspberry Granola Bars.

Despite having a firm understanding of boundaries, my hunger drove me in the dead of that first, long, dark night, to rummage through every desk and wastebasket belonging to my co-workers, who I hope will forgive me should the details of my despair even reach them.

I also hope I will be forgiven by Mr. DiRonza when I confess my next transgression, although he did send me to my death, so there’s a chance all our sins will be a wash.

You see, reader, in a quest to find sustenance, I broke into my manager’s office.

I know, I know.

Who am I--Mussolini? Pol Pot? Thomas Crowne?

All employees are expressly forbidden from being in the manager’s office when he or she is not present, but on the off chance that Mr. DiRonza had even so much as a half-chewed papaya in there, I felt it was worth it to break protocol.

That brings me to the reason for my writing this letter, because while I would love to assure you that I would have taken pen to toilet paper regardless of the outcome of my illegal expedition, the fact is that it’s only my alarm at what I found there that leads me to this documentation.

Inside Mr. Raphael J. DiRonza’s spacious, yet some would say “incoherently decorated” office, I found the following:

In The Top Left Drawer of His Desk:

• Drawings of Cats in Bathing Suits, Mainly Bikinis
• Drawings of Cats as Various Superheroes, But Mainly The Flash
• Drawings of Cats as World Leaders, But Respectable Ones, Not Like Pol Pot, But More Like Angela Merkel
• Watermelon-Mango Breath Mints

In the Left Middle Drawer of His Desk

• The Largest Bottle of Lubricant I Have Ever Seen, and I Once Worked for Three Years Under a Vet Who Specialized in Difficult Bison Births
• One Pack of Roberto’s No-Filter Cigarettes
• A Bar of Novelty Soap with the Words ‘Pick Me Up’ Carved Into It.

(The Soap Had No Smell to It and That’s How I Knew It Was Some Kind of Gag Item)

In the Bottom Left Drawer of His Desk

• Four Different Copies of “The Secret” (New Condition)
• One Copy of “The Lord of the Flies (Terrible Condition)

And on the Right Side of His Desk--

• Ping Pong Balls (Hundreds of Them)

I’m aware that you’re probably very disturbed by now, theoretical reader, and believe me, I was as well.

Had I not been convinced of my solitary confinement within the bank, I would have picked up the largest stapler I could find to protect myself against whatever evil creature might be summoned from the various objects I uncovered.

It is plain as day that my manager is a Satanist, or at the very least, a pervert, and must be removed from his position immediately.

While I was not convinced after the first two drawers, any person who can set utter trash like “The Lord of the Flies” next to the godsend that is “The Secret” must be thoroughly unbalanced, and should seek psychiatric help immediately.

Although I would normally be happy to participate in whatever intervention is required for Mr. DiRonza, I am, as I stated, most likely dead at this point, having keeled over in a snowbank, unable to be located until Spring.

I wish whomever is reading this luck as they decide how best to terminate Mr. DiRonza from his post, and how to alert his father, Andreas DiRonza, co-owner and founder of the bank, as I’m sure he’ll be equally eager to remove his son from the post he gave to him as soon as he was out of college. No ill will should be directed at Andreas, as we all make mistakes.

Best of luck to everyone at DiRonza and Fratzi Community Bank. I will miss them all, even Mr. DiRonza, though there’s a good chance that he’s into human sacrifice or ping pong (I’m not sure which would be worse).

Into the storm I go, and please let my manager know that all I took with me into the fracas was one of his copies of “The Secret.”

I’m just thankful he had one to spare.

Sincerely

Deborah Ellen Witt-Meyer

Four-Time Employee of The Week