Hi there, guys and dolls! Is your workday Wednesday going well? If it is, good for you! If not, just put your feet up for a moment or two and enjoy reading the story of Chuck, whose day is most likely going worse than yours :-).
Oh, dear Chuck, he’s the office hero. He’s such a he-man, . You’ve got a problem, go to him. Patting people on the back so hard he knocks them into next Tuesday. Taking the junior execs aside if they whine or complain, telling them to ‘be a man,’ ‘take charge,’ ‘own that meeting,’ ‘make that decision like a real man,’ and all other kinds of bunk. And helpful? Don’t you know it! Need the bottle on the water cooler turned and the mail boy isn’t around? Just ask Chuck! Need the lid off your pickle jar loosened? He’s your man! Typewriter keys jammed? He’ll take his strong, man hands and get those keys unstuck, pronto! Need a date for Saturday night? He’ll be there too, or will have a handsome friend to pinch hit in style! I think you get the idea.
And yesterday was a day like all others. The phones were ringing, telex machines clicking away, new client meetings, appointment galore and executive decisions needing to be made left, right and center. And there was Chuck in the middle of it all, deciding this, that and the other. Giving directions and orders all in his lickety-split style. Mr. Capable, handling it all.
He dictated a letter to me at lightning speed and took off to his corner office. I really don’t know what he said, a bunch of garble, really. I typed it up, throwing in the appropriate ‘to whom it may concern,’ ‘of an urgent matter.’ ‘needing your immediate attention,’ blah, blah, official blah.
A few minutes later, after dealing with crinkled carbon paper, fading typewriter ribbon and catching up on the secretarial pool gossip about Lola’s latest dating disaster, I knocked and went into Chuck’s office. I have a sinking suspicion he didn’t hear me, because what I saw must never be repeated. (Okay, not that he knows who repeated it. I have to tell it to you and the office, it’s too good.)
At first, I couldn’t find him. Then I heard this weeping, mewling sound, kind of like a simpering kitten. It was coming from under his desk. Cautiously, I peered around, then under the desk. There was Chuck, curled up like a little baby, sniffling, whimpering, rocking back and forth, muttering something like “Mommy’ll make it all go away and be okay,” something odd like that. I froze, just like a statue. What the heck? Where did the he-man go? Shocked, I backed away and closed the door.
Turns out the boss is a big baby! Who knew? (Well, I do now and pretty much anyone who will listen to me, such as you, dear reader, the elevator operator, the secretarial pool, the lunch counter staff, the mail room guys, I think even the cop on the corner. I think he listened, I’m not sure. He acted like he did, anyway.) But you know, we’re a kind bunch (or maybe it’s smart, we all want to keep our jobs). Five minutes later, he’s out of his office, full of vim and vigor, at my desk, signing the letter, taking another call, ordering more new parts for something from someone, walking around like he owns the joint (‘cuz he kinda does…).
Yep, business as usual. Another Wednesday at the office…
Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more posts. And don’t forget to give my Poppy Cove Mysteries a try if you haven’t already.
Toodles, Barbara Jean