Teri Ann Renée Paisley, Contributor
I hate my job. I especially hate my boss. As I cowered in the corner of the ledge, I ignored all the shouts behind me. My life was over and it was entirely my boss's fault. He had made my life an endless stream of misery. I can still remember that day when I met him for the first time. His sedate, grey suit belied his sinister nature. Mr Evans was a force to be reckoned with in and out of the boardroom.
He had stood glaring at me with the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen and asked, "Why should we hire you?"
I could feel the sweat running down my forehead. I tried to think, but all I kept hearing was the voice of my last supervisor, "You are not cut out for the corporate world."
This was my chance to prove him wrong. I began with a rambling tale filled with overblown accounts of my heroic deeds. A sceptical look crossed his face so I hurriedly included my willingness to learn.
He smiled and said, "Now that is what I want to hear!"
When I left his office with the slip of paper that confirmed my appointment, I was determined to make a success of this job.
My first day was probably the worst day in my life. My boss threw a tantrum just because I gave him the wrong folder for a meeting. How was I supposed to know their strange filing system?
He had yelled at me, incredulously, "What do you mean you are confused? It is an alphabetical system!"
As I rushed away fighting tears, I swallowed my first stirrings of anger. The weeks and months dragged on. My life resembled one long routine. I would make some minor mistake such as erasing all his files on the hard drive on his computer, then he would shout and everyone would snicker. I began to regret working here, but I needed the extra money so I soldiered on in to hopes of things improving
Things finally escalated until that fateful day. I had been on a very important call. Mr Evans barged into my office and exclaimed, "Ms Brink, I have been trying to call you for over an hour!"
I sighed heavily and murmured my goodbyes to my manicurist. I had only been on the phone for two hours. After yelling for a while, he stomped off to his office. I decided to check my email. Since he had been such a pain lately, I decided I would try and pull a prank. Why not go in his email and delete one of his emails? That would show him that I was not to be embarrassed. His password was easy to break. The first email I opened caught my eye immediately, as my name seemed to jump out at me. The message read: "Ms. Brink is not working out the way she should, so add her name to the list."
Moment of Panic
I heard a noise in the distance so I hurriedly closed the email. I clenched my hands into fists and took a few calming breaths. Surely there must be a mistake! What kind of list could I be on? Several scenarios flashed through my mind but I remembered of a rumour that the company was losing money and might let some employees go. That man was trying to get me fired! A sudden heat rushed to my cheeks. I would make him pay. My fingers flew on the keyboard as I wrote an email and sent it to everyone in the company showing pictures I had doctored of Mr Evans appearing to be drunk at a party.
As I clicked the send button, Mitsie, the office gossip came over and began her usual one-sided conversation.
"Hey did you get that email with the list of employees who have been taken off the gym office programme? You haven't been working out have you? Well, see you."
As she moved on to the next office, my throat constricted. I hurriedly clicked the email and, this time, I read it carefully. There it was, a list of employees who were not 'working out' or exercising and so were to be 'dropped'.
So here it all ends. My life was over. I might as well jump.
"Ms Brinks, it's okay I forgive you! Don't jump!"
I looked across and saw the kindly face of Mr Evans and I thought maybe I had been wrong all along. I reached for his hand and he pulled me inside. Then I heard the laughter behind me and I realised that now I would be known as the crazy girl who had wanted to jump off the building. I hate my job.