One Terrible Day (Short Stories)

Day 22 of 100: Which Man to Vote for?

As a lady, I don't mind letting a man walk into a store before me. What's that ancient saying? Age before Beauty.

He's distracted by the person on the other side of the phone and I'm distracted by how upset the woman sounds. I tailgate him while trying to activate my third ear.

"What the heck!" He removes the phone from his ear and turns around speaking down to it, "That's not how this works, Karen and you know it! Custody -"

"I'm sorry," I make it look like I'm in a rush to get back to duty as I feel his eyes dig into my back the whole way to the counter. "Is he still watching me?"

"Who?" my colleague says with her eyes still on the screen in front of her, a bit suspiciously.

"Never mind . . ." I turn to check myself and the man-in-question has taken his conversation somewhere else. "Would you look at that?" I say to no one in particular.

"He's cute, isn't he?"

"Who?"

"The man you were grinding up against," my colleague says with a cheeky grin.

I roll my eyes, "So you knew who I was talking about."

"Not the point -"

"That is the point though, Hailey."

"Annyywaayy, what about him?"

I ignore her weirdness, "I think he's getting a divorce."

"Oooh, tell me more . . ."

"That's the thing -" I prepare myself to help the next customer in line, "That's about all I know." I raise my arm, "Next customer please!"

"You see, now that is something I don't like," I hear once the customer has left.

I shift to see what she has on her screen, "What do you mean?"

"No man, I'm not talking about work," says Hailey. "It's about this cutie. You say he's having a divorce based on the little you heard, and it clearly sounds like you think he's the good guy." She leans against the counter behind us, "I think, if you wanna have an argument in public, then at least put the phone on speaker, you know. I need to hear both sides of the story to know whose side I'm on."

"Why are you picking sides to begin with?"

"You clearly chose one."

"You weren't there." I find myself defending him, "She sounds like a monster, and he wants to be in the lives of the kids. Unlike my babies' daddies -"

"Michelle," a voice from the side.

I turn to see a brand-new-bold-sun-reflecting badge, Supervisor, all caps. "Yes," I reply.

"Manager wants to speak to you . . ."

Great . . .

"Close the door behind you," I hear as soon as I enter the office. I do as I'm told. "Please, have a seat," he says.

"Uhm, you wanted - to see me," I'm hesitant to speak to someone with their back to me.

He continues with what's in front of him, "No, Michelle, if I wanted to see you, I would ask you to go out with me." He almost whispers to himself, "God knows, it would be the most stable relationship you've ever had in your life. Never mind the things I would do -"

Unprofessional, but okay . . .

He finally turns his full attention to me, "I want to speak to you, Michelle."

"About?"

"The 29th -"

"Voting day?"

"Yes, election day." He sits down opposite me, "And this year is especially important as it marks thirty years of freedom in the country. That is why I don't want you to take it the wrong way, but I think it's best that you don't vote this year."

"But the whole point of having the day off, is so I can go and vote."

"Honestly, it's fine." He says, "You can rather use the day off to spend time with your kids. As long as you don't vote, I'll figure something out for you."

"I don't understand why you don't want me to vote," I say, offended. "You don't even know the party I'm going with."

"It's better that way."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Here's the problem, Michelle," he sets his elbows on the desk between us. "You've never been engaged never mind married before, yet you have four children with three different fathers. To me that shows bad judgement, and quite frankly, you have a history of choosing the wrong men. It makes me feel like this election day will be no different. You'll end of voting for the wrong man, that will probably fuck us over and leave as soon as he can." He leans back on his chair now, "Honestly, Michelle, I just want what's best for you . . ."

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