“You need to be more discreet,” Gemma whispers to Lea as they pretend to be listening intently to the CEO’s company updates.
“I
am fucking discreet,” Lea whispers back a little too loudly, causing one of
their dedicated co-workers to spin around and give them both a dirty look.
“I
don’t think you understand what’s at stake here L.”
“Of
course, I do, just drop it, we’ll be fine.”
“The
people we work with are some of the nosiest people I’ve ever come across in my
life, especially…” Gemma nudges her head in the direction of Angela, the dirty
looker standing astutely in front of them, listening to each of the CEO’s words
like they’re sustenance which gives her life.
“You
think I don’t know that? Look, Jeremy almost saw me earlier but that’s it. Key
word being almost! I am being as careful as humanly possible.”
Gemma
and Lea spend the rest of the monthly company meeting feigning interest in the
success of their sales numbers and upcoming work events, each holding onto the
bliss of what awaits them on their lunch break.
Finally,
the meeting comes to an end and they each make their way back to their
individual cubicles on either side of the office. Their CEO starts to make his
rounds, so Gemma and Lea both instinctively drop their heads to avoid eye
contact. Barry is how you would envision any CEO of a large tech company,
white, middle aged, bald and bordering on psychopathy. He hides his psycho
under a strategic cheesy smile that impressively never falters, and with the
use of several trips to his personal espresso machine throughout the day. The
smell of his coffee lingers around him like a cloud, alongside a constant air
of self-importance.
The
lack of eye contact unfortunately doesn’t work on Barry. It never does. “Ahhh,
Gemma.”
He
says, slinking his way over with an impressively convincing enthusiasm that
almost makes you feel bad for him. He’s trying. “It’s Gemma, isn’t it?” he
asks, as Gemma spins in her chair to face him. “That’s me,” she replies, trying
her best to plaster on a smile for his benefit.
“How
are you? How’s sales treating you? And your daughter is she well?”
He
has done his homework, Gemma notes.
“Great!
Yeah, everything’s great, my daughter is…Well, she’s just fine.”
“Good,
good,” he grins.
“I
was sorry to hear about your friend, Josh, he was ughh…He was a good employee.”
Gemma’s
stomach drops at the mention of his name.
“Yes…He
was a great employee…Sorry but uhm, weren’t you in charge of those layoffs?”
Her
hard expression doesn’t falter as she awaits his reaction to her question. She
wanted to see him fumble, she longed to see his façade crack, even momentarily.
Disturbingly,
his smile doesn’t drop an inch. “Not directly, no,” he responds with ease.
“Anyway,
you enjoy the rest of your day Gemma.” He strides away, looking for the next lower-level
employee to target.
“You
should be more careful Gem,” Lea appears at her side a few minutes later, each
of them watching Barry charm Brenda from customer service a few cubicles away.
“You
saw what happened to Josh, I can’t afford to lose you too. We both need this
job.”
Gemma
blinks away tears with a heavy inhale. “I don’t even know what happened to his
daughter L, I mean she has no parents now, Josh didn’t think much about that
before he jumped of that bridge, did he? Fucking idiot he is…I mean was.”
Lea
leans over to give Gemma’s shoulder a squeeze. “Great hair though.”
Gemma
laughs at that. Lea always had a way of making her laugh, even amongst an
office full of robotic assholes. Their humour is what bonded them initially, however,
it was their mutual disgust for their jobs that cemented their inseparable
friendship.
Lea
glances to the clock at the front of the office hopefully. “Cheer up it’s
almost lunch time,” she almost squeals with excitement as she dances back to
her desk.
“Back
to work ladies,” Barry yells across the office, causing the murmur of voices to
disappear as they divert their attention to Barry’s authoritative disciplining.
“This isn’t a dance floor Lea, this is a professional environment, your
co-workers are trying to concentrate,” he says sternly, then turns to wink at
Brenda who giggles quietly at his flirtation.
Gemma
turns back to her desk, the fear of Lea’s words having some truth, causing her
heartbeat to quicken with anxiety. She says a silent prayer, I need this job,
please do not let me lose this job. She thinks of her sister who lost her job
just a few months ago and hasn’t left the house since. Her two kids have had to
drop out of school and become home-schooled and she is maybe a few weeks away
from losing her house entirely. Gemma makes a mental note to visit her after
work and deliver some food and basic necessities.
A
sudden ding brings her out of her trance. An email notification flashes on her
desktop screen. “I want in.” Is all it reads. She looks at the sender.
Darryl
Jeffords, from accounting. Darryl is a father of three in his thirties, who, to
his credit, always says good morning to Gemma on the way to his desk and gives
her friendly smiles whenever they catch each other staring into space
throughout the day. The friendly kind that’s not too leering, which is a rare
thing for a man his age.
She
swivels in her chair to see Darryl’s head peeking just above his desktop a
couple of cubicles away. There is a quiet desperation in his eyes, she knows
all too well. She sighs, then nods once in his direction. “Yes!” he yells,
garnering the attention of half the office. He plays it off by muttering
something about great numbers under his breath and the zombies of the office
return to their screens without so much of a change in their muted expression.
“Meet
us at the last elevator on the right at lunch time and delete this email thread
after reading this.” Gemma writes back.
“Who
told you?” Lea interrogates Darryl as the three of them stand waiting for the
elevator at the end of the hall.
“No
one. I promise! I just saw you two disappear at lunch every day and come back
looking so…serene…and I just, I need…I need that. This place will drive you
insane if you let it. You guys get that…right?”
Lea
and Gemma look to each other in unison, sharing a silent conversation.
“Yes.
We do,” Gemma responds.
The
elevator finally arrives and they all pile in, each of them feeling lighter the
further they get from the toxic vortex that holds them all captive for most of
the day.
As
they descend, their smiles return and the anxiety restricting Gemma’s chest all
morning releases like the ripple of a stone landing in a still pond. The doors
open on level 1, a floor that had been closed for refurbishments months ago but
hadn’t been given the funding yet to actually complete said refurbishments. It
sat idle for a while, collecting dust, until Gemma and Lea happened across it
one day on their lunch break. They could no longer stand to sit in the break
room in the office that offers no privacy or space to escape anyone or
anything. So, they ventured to find somewhere free from the disease.
Darryl
gasps audibly like a four-year-old seeing a jumping castle for the first time. On
one side of the room is a collection of books and board games stacked as high
as Darryl himself. On the other, is a record player and stereo stacked with CDs
and records and an empty dance floor will a hopscotch drawn in pink chalk.
Gemma strolls to the corner of the dim lit room and flicks a switch that
ignites the room in different colours sprouting from the disco light sitting on
the ground. He stands there, mouth agape in awe for a moment.
“You
two are fucking awesome,” he says, collapsing into a bean bag chair situated
beside the pile of books.
“If
you tell anyone Darryl, we won’t hesitate to castrate you. We mean it,” Gemma
says, shuffling through the records and landing on Queen, her eyes beginning to
glimmer again with joy.
“Gemma,
Josh and I all pitched in,” Lea says proudly, picking up a hidden box behind
the record player and pulling out a pile of canvas paper and oil paints.
“My
kids would love this.”
“Well,
this isn’t for your kids Darryl,” Gemma snaps back.
Darryl
ignores her, leaning back in his beanbag, content in his comfort.
The
rest of their lunch break consists of Gemma boogying to Queen, while Lea
observes, laughing as she doodles with her paints. Darryl takes a nap, his gruff
snores, audible even over Freddie Mercury’s operatic vocals bouncing off the
walls of the almost entirely vacant first floor.
The
next day begins as any other. Gemma and Lea arrive at the office at 8am, ready
for another day of the same old shit, one hour of pure freedom, and then again,
the same old shit.
“I
hope Jeff doesn’t ask me to stay late again tonight,” Lea sighs as she plonks
her dishevelled handbag on her desk.
“You
let him get away with it. The little fucker knows you’ll say yes. You just need
to tell him no.”
“Gem,
you know I can’t risk that any more than you can.”
Gemma
glances at the zombies who’ve begun to fill their cubicles. “Hey, where’s
Darryl? He’s usually here before us.”
Lea
shrugs. “Maybe he’s sick.”
By
lunch time Gemma and Lea are practically leaping from their seats. They make
sure no one’s looking as they round the corner towards the elevator.
The
elevator doors slide open when they reach the first floor, but an eerily empty
room awaits them.
“Did
we press the wrong button?” Gemma asks, a nausea beginning to course through
her lower stomach.
Lea
shakes her head, her face now an ashen grey.
“Where
the fuck is our shit? Oh my god, they found out. They know Gem. Oh fuck. Oh no.
We’re screwed, we’re going to get fired, oh my god, we’re going to be living on
the streets.”
“Okay,
calm down,” Gemma says, running her hands through her hair, staring at the
empty grey room in front of them. They didn’t leave so much as a speck of dust
behind.
“They
haven’t fired us yet, right? We’re going to be fine. We’re just going to go up
and pretend this never happened.”
Lea
bends forward heaving as Gemma presses the button to the office floor. When the
doors open again, Barry stares back at them, his usual unsettling grin
unfaltering.
“Hello
ladies, care to explain where you’ve been?”
“Uhm
just uhm, well the lady’s bathroom is out of order, so we went looking for
another one,” Gemma spits out, trying to hide the quiver in her voice.
“Ahhh
I see, well I think it’s been fixed, so there’s no need to go wondering off
now, we’ll all miss you too much,” he replies, giving her one of his signature
winks.
Gemma
and Lea stand staring back at him, waiting for him to let them past.
He
doesn’t move.
“You
don’t happen to know where Darryl is today, do you Barry?” Gemma asks, holding
his stare.
“Darryl’s
been relocated. He will now work for us at our branch in the city,” he says,
barely moving a muscle.
Their anxiety resurfaces tenfold, clawing at their
insides as they’re subjected to Barry’s unrelenting, lifeless, eyes. Brenda glances
down at his hands tucked behind his back in the reflection of the glass behind
him, she can just catch a glimpse of the words ‘Immediate Dismissal’ and
Darryl’s name printed in bold red writing underneath.
Bio:
Georgie Arnaud originally completed her degree in journalism in Australia, but quickly realised she needed more creative freedom and room to express herself through writing. She now focuses on writing dark, existential pieces about love, pain and politics.
