Suburban Confessional Part 5

Six minutes and counting.1

I stare, quietly at the silver clip in the back of her golden red hair. She still hasn’t realized I have been starring at her for 6 continuous minutes. Rebecca just continues tapping away at her keyboard, Ipod on, bopping away to herself completely oblivious of my rather pointless endeavor. This is what my Monday’s are generally reduced to, starring aimlessly at the back of Bec’s head for hours to see if she will start to get that “I’m being watched” feeling and turn around. At this current point she is still completely and utterly clueless2

Welcome to cubicle land. I’ve named mine Detroit; don’t ask me why it just seemed appropriate. To be honest I don’t even entirely know what’s in Detroit or exactly where it is but I know that’s what my cubicle is called. Unfortunately this is the life I have been reduced to, glorified button monkey in a never ending land of sterile cubicles. Despite all my artistic pretensions and my predilection to all things numbing I somehow have managed to develop an uncanny way with numbers which has lead to me selling me soul and become the one thing a pretentious pill popping artist hates. I am an accounts officer. Not to be mistaken with an accountant. Oh no they are the ones that have their fancy piece of paper and very happily and willing like to rub in your faces despite the fact that half of them don’t even know how to send a fucking email when they first step through the doors, but just because they actually stuck around and finished their university course they think they can treat you like their fucking personal assistant.3

Eight minutes and counting.4

The office I work in is the most sterile place I have ever seen. It is completely soulless along with half the people that occupy these walls. There is no such thing as windows, the only one in the place is in the CEO’s office and the only time a person goes in there they tend not to be seen in the office again. As there are no windows there is no comprehensibly link to the outside world for 8 hours of my day. The thermostat, which is temptingly located on the wall next to my desk, is always set on a constant temperature of 17 degrees in both summer and winter. We are on the 5th story of an eleven story building so we don’t even hear the rain outside. It could be a heat wave, flooding rains, snowing or nuclear holocaust and we would still be none the wiser until we go out to get some lunch. The office is almost in silence except for the constant taping of keyboards. Radio’s are against company policy as they cause disagreements amongst staff which reduced team moral. Oh woop de fucking do, no one likes anyone anyway so I don’t think a radio is going to do much damage. Like Bec everyone just sits with their MP3 players on bopping away to themselves, miming the words to themselves like contestants on Australia Idol for the mute. Occasionally someone will forget where they are and you’ll hear a random song lyric in the air, followed by refrained sniggers. 5

Nine minutes and counting. This girl is completely oblivious today.6

The company I work for is one of those multinational companies which has an abbreviated name, FSH. No-one really actually knows what we do exactly, and ask anybody here what the hell FSH actually stands for they will look at you blinkingly hoping the person next to them will know, unaware that they have put their earphones back in and have cranked up the music to avoid the question. And what exactly we do is an enigma into itself. All I know is I have a lot of spreadsheets to play with and make add up, a lot of pieces of paper to put special codes on (which I don’t know what they mean) and put in a rather large cabinet which is about a five minute walk away. So using the assumption I work with lots of dollar signs and a lot of pieces of paper, I think that maybe, possibly we have something to do with finance, or mining or something. Truth be told I really don’t have a fucking clue.7

Ten minutes!8

Becca pauses, slowly presses stop on her Ipod, removes her earphones and slowly spins around on her chair; “Yes?”9

“WOOT! Ten minutes! New record!” I quietly squeal spinning around in circles on my chair. Bec rolls over to me, grabs my chair and stops it spinning; “Ten minutes? What the hell? Ten minutes for what?” Dizzy now. She’s no fun.10

“I’ve been starring at you’re the back of your head for ten minutes now and you have only just realized it,” I reply in a childish giggle whilst trying to retain my balance, “Usually it only takes you about 2-3 minutes tops.” She just rolls her eyes at me and turns her chair back to the monitor, “Christ Evie do you not do any work?”11

“Nope,” I slide my chair over to hers and spin her around so she was right in my face, “Come on Becs, think about it do you have idea what the hell we’re doing here? When was the last time anyone asked as to submit these stupid reports or asked us how many pieces of paper we’ve filed? We haven’t seen our manager in months. Come on have a bit of fun. It’s not as if I’m looking up gay porn on the computer!” Hey that’s an idea.12

Over the last couple of months I have grown quite fond of Becca. She is one of the few people in this office that I get along with. Ok she is the only person that I get along with in this office. Becs is one of those people that you can’t help but like, all she had to do was to open her mouth and you would instantly love her. She came from Australia from Ireland about 9 months ago on a working visa in hope of backpacking around the country. It was her first time away from home and was a little naive; thinking that everyone in the land down under was like the people she saw on Australian soapies. Sadly this is not the case and dear Becca was taken for a ride by one very sleazy and dishonest bloke who she stupidly loaned her credit card to do some food shopping with. She never saw him or her credit card again but the she certainly did see the bill. Within 48 hours he had charged around four grand on it, leaving it maxed and her penniless. Being a traveler the bank didn’t believe her story and left her with the bill to pay. She had no money, no way to get home and her only option was to stay put on what she had and try to earn as her fare home. Her parents back in Ireland could have easily have paid for her flight home if she had wanted to but by doing that she felt like she could never come home with her pride in tact and if she left now she knew she’d never come back. That’s why she stays, and desperately tries to abide by the rules. Like the rest of us, she desperately needs the money. However, her accent wasn’t the only Irish thing that endeared her to my cold heart, it was her Irish capacity to drink like a fish and any girl who can do that is ok in my books.13

“Yes I realize that Evie, but you never know when they are going to check,” She says pushing me back slightly; “Anyways you of all people should start watching what your doing around here. Half the people in this building know about your medication.” 14

She has actually made a semi valid point there. My out of work habit does seem to have become the point of rumors of late. And like Becca I do need to retain this job, my money situation is rather grim and to loose it may mean I might have to take a very frightening step back in my life, one that I’m not entirely prepared to make just at this time. 15

“I know,” I quietly concede, “But it is medical, so if they fire me I will sue their pants off!” I continue spinning on my chair as with every turn I can see Bec shaking her head at me whilst trying to contain her smile. Suddenly I stop, “It’s half four, fancy going to the pub?”16