Self-Control and Indulgence

World's Worst Job-Chapter I

I desperately needed this job. Despite how unsavory it was, dealing with the doppelgangers and all, I had no choice. I HAD to take it. As I sat down in my well-worn worn squeaky office chair, I kicked against the desk in front of me, spinning the chair. The air in the room was mildly cold, and a slight bit dry, but I didn't mind. The walls had different things mounted and taped on, like files containing information on the residents, the phone number for the D.D.D, and of course, the daily entry list. My desk was a bit dusty; it was clear that they hadn't had a previous doorman for quite some time. Or maybe they did, and it ended like it always did, with the former doorman's decapitated head on the desk, their blood making a scarlet red mess all over the paperwork they spent so hard doing that day.

It was not unusual for the doppelgangers to "deal" with the doormen, and it was unfortunately normalized. However, the people who get hired as doormen get a damn good pay, but that's probably because most people also don't want to deal with the constant fear of being killed by a monster that they let in. They prefer to be accountants, chefs, or maybe even performers. But there are some bonuses to being a doorman. For example, most apartment complexes provide free housing if they work there too, so woohoo for me. Since these apartments and buildings are in desperate need of doormen, I got hired on the spot despite my unsavory record with my former job. I looked up at the ceiling, reflecting on my last job, and my memories of the last day on my job came to the front of my mind...

My former manager had just called me into his office to have a "chat". When I entered the office, he already had the termination documents in hand. The yellowish-white folder with the papers was held together by a single paperclip which read: "Great Job Champ!" in bright cheap blue plastic. Not a very tasteful choice for the occasion.
"I'm sorry Y/N, but this just isn't going to work out for you here. Truly, on behalf of the management here at-"

"What about Thalia? Does she agree with this? Does she even know?" I interrupted. My manager paused, not expecting to get cut off.

"Well, it was Thalia that wrote this," He continued, running his fingers through his moderately long blonde hair. His tone conveyed some discomfort, but he was trying his best to sound like he knew what he was doing. It was very clear that he had never had to do this before. Thalia was a close friend that I made at my previous company, and she worked for HR. She and I used to work together quite closely as friends before she got a major promotion and moved up to her fancy new HR job higher in the company. She was probably one of the best friends I have ever made at this shitty company, to be honest. She never failed to advocate for me and help me with whatever I needed. But what the fuck is this? I was shocked that she would even comply with this kind of thing, but I guess it was her job after all.

"But I don't understand, what did she say? Why am I getting fired? I've only ever done what you've asked of me." I pleaded, anxious and a bit defeated. My manager sighed before continuing,

"I don't want to be rude, but here. A list of all of the things that we believe that we should remove you for." He said, passing the folder with the insensitive paperclip to me. I fought the urge to roll my eyes when I saw the paperclip. I opened up the folder and skimmed through the document. Questionable customer service skills... Snapped at an upset customer, escalating the situation... Attempted stealing company items.

"Attempted stealing company items? Are you kidding me? When? Do you have footage of this?" I asked, my panic making me lose control of what I was saying. My self-control was slowly wearing down thin. My voice was beginning to raise, and my voice cracked slightly.

"Now there's no need to get aggressive..." My manager said with a slightly uncomfortable inflection in his voice. He leaned against his desk, raising his hands in defense. I took a breath in an attempt to cool down a bit. After a moment or two, I spoke again, my voice quieter, but still a bit weak.