Temporary Secretary

Part 22

Haha you fucking silly geese. Story's not over hehe. We're not even close :D Sorry to do you like that ;) 

Okay here we go hehe ;)

5 March 1981

3:00pm Thursday 

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You'd begun working at your new job. Nearly a month now to be exact, and already well fitted in as a cog in the machine.

It was alright, and you had more coworkers now, as well as better prospects to move upward.

As you were new, many people enjoyed asking you to take care of their filing backlog, given stacks of upwards of 600 documents to be filed by name.

It wasn't so bad. In fact, you didn't mind the monotonous repetitive work, a sort of peacefulness being alone in the record rooms.

You pre-alphabetized them using a sorter, a set of slots, ABC in the first, DEF in the second, and so on. Then you'd take the ABC section, and put them into more precise order, then the same with DEF... and so on.

One thing you didn't like though, and weren't happy to return to, was making copies. You were out of practice, and it was a lot of pressure not to screw it up. You had to use all these layers... original, carbon paper, pink paper for the first copy, another sheet of carbon paper, yellow paper for the second copy...

In all honesty, you felt a bit scatterbrained lately. Perhaps you'd gone soft working for Paul, less dashing about, less interaction with so many coworkers, the small talk... the office gossip. Suppose you'd have to get acclimated, and it wouldn't feel like such a big change.

Perhaps your illness from a few weeks back had come back, your better health only a fluke. You've been waking up feeling groggy. Must be the aftershocks maybe, or returning to full time work and waking up early again. You still felt a touch under the weather, a bit dizzy.

It was a bit hard staying focused on your work, but you'd always been scatterbrained, really.

It was a lot being in the loud environment of an office again, the large space filled with people, desks and cubicles.

It had been much easier to focus at Paul's office, even with people coming in. Your work hadn't been leisurely with him by any means, but being the only secretary and receptionist, it was certainly a lot more quiet! Much less running about too. You didn't have to traverse an entire workfloor for every little thing.

Working with Paul, you'd also sometimes fuck after work, an employee benefit, as he so elegantly put it. It had become even more so commonplace toward the end.

But these days, you'd be more or less wiped out by the end. All the talk was exhausting, you already fatigued from all the running about. Last thing you wanted to hear about was how that whore Beverly dropped her pen a little too often in front of Michael's desk for such a stuck up bitch. Or about their children... how little Billy scored the winning goal and football practice... or how little Susie drew the loveliest portrait of a cat the other day (would you like to see?)

Oh... you shouldn't be so judgmental. Your tiredness was in turn only making you more impatient, not a very good combination. But it was difficult to listen to, really. Made you want to collapse onto your desk, or begin dropping your pen in front of Michael's desk, so maybe you'd be the office scapegoat instead.