It was a day much like any other day since I’d started working there, back before I’d lost my innocence and I still believed I could get along with all six of my co-workers. Hey, I believed in Santa once too.
We had a meeting every morning. It was a stupid meeting where nothing was ever accomplished. Often we’d listen to three of the attendees talk about their grandchildren. One of them was the boss, so what could you do? I doodled in my notebook quite a bit.
Anyhoo… the meeting… I’d gotten there a little early and realized that I’d left my report at my desk, so I dropped my notebook and pen on the table and ran across the hall to get the paperwork. It’s dumb but the pen I’d left was my favorite pen of the moment which meant it wrote well and I’d use it for everything until the ink died. I’d picked it up during my business trip to California and had been using it ever since. It was nothing special, I just liked the way it wrote.
When I returned to the conference room, my notebook sat in its place, my pen however was nowhere to be found. I shifted my stuff around and looked on the floor, thinking I’d dropped it. Nothing. “Where’s my pen?” I muttered to myself. My coworker, Kari, smiled and leaned back in her chair. Kari, the bitch princess, was–and probably still is–evil. I believe the devil is her mother. I know, because I worked with her mother too.
“It was mine,” said the bitch-princess.
“I brought it back with me from California,” I said, incredulous. Okay, not only is Kari the devil’s spawn but she’s not so bright either. My boss had once tried to soothe me by saying she couldn’t ever get anyone to do the job Kari did for what she paid her. That didn’t make me feel much better. I suspected my boss couldn’t get anyone to do MY job for what they paid me.
Irritated, I continued, “It’s my pen.”
Kari smirked. “All the pens like that are mine.”