So this is the next installment. If you haven't read the beginning, go down about three posts and there you will find it--complete with typos. Nothing like putting your stuff out there to help you see your errors. Anyhow, I promised myself I would press on with this essay (which is totally true, by the way--even though my family members will take me to task for later parts of the essay--which are not in this short and badly punctuated installment.) This is a short entry but it ends with Masturbator/Flasher foreshaddowing which should encourage you to wait breathlessly for the next installment. While you wait, you could practice your Masturbator/Flasher breathing. Really, I am digressing now and just repeating Masturbator/Flasher . . .
Ultimately, I started getting to work later and later. The windowless room that I shared with a perky intern from Berkley seemed to grow smaller, the black plastic clock on the wall larger. I finished the article on Rochester and it was finally published. I learned how to operate the copy machine and made copies for anyone who wanted them when the secretary wasn’t around. While making copies might seem a step down from writing articles for IBM Digest or for the Corporate Headquarters news letter, it got me away from the tiny office and the clock. Then I got to write a scintillating piece on a company basket ball team. I continued to work on the PC Junior manual, but mostly, I continued to watch the clock on the wall. Three months passed.
During my life outside of the office building, things happened. I wrecked my lemon yellow Dodge Horizon in a snow storm and had to start taking rides from other interns and young workers at IBM. I moved away from the Yonkers secretary and the hairy guys with necklaces and into an apartment in Hells Kitchen with my willowy, blue-eyed boyfriend. I began to counter-commute to IBM’s corporate head quarters in White Plains from Manhattan. I started to show up to work later and later. No one seemed to notice.
Then I had a series of small maladies, bladder infections and colds, which I milked. I began to miss work entirely—first one day a week and then two. I collected a good letter of recommendation and continued the charade of “working” at IBM until the occurrence of what I will call the Masturbator/ Flasher Incident.
No comments:
Post a Comment