Towards Zero Hour

Towards Zero Hour: Chapter 3

Hour 7

Fifteen minutes into this hour and Frank receives a message from an old friend named Camden. Camden too was a co-worker once, in fact one of the very first friends Frank made in his short professional life. Frank found the entire incident of how they met quite fascinating. They met while appearing for interviews at their previous organization. They would keep bumping into each other after every interview round. While waiting in the general reception area for the human resources manager to announce whether they had made it onto the next round they would exchange their thoughts on the questions they faced in the previous rounds.

Frank was lucky in this way of hooking up with people attending the same job interviews as he did. He would hit it off with these other anxious guys around him and stay in touch with them getting news about other places where they might have a shot of landing a suitable job.

Camden's message left Frank thinking again. Their country was playing a match at home and one of their best players was playing his last game of what could be considered an incredibly long and glorious career.

Camden, using one of his playful taunts, suggested that people who were working that day and not following that historic match should learn to relax every once in a while and get a life. Frank chose not to reply to that message and admit he was working to others in that group message. He thought it would only add to his geeky image. Camden had started attending graduate school and could probably skip classes and watch the game at home. But employed folks like him were bound by stronger bonds of commitment that force them to report to work day in and day out. Frank wished so many exciting things would not happen on the same day. He would miss out on most of the match and would have to catch the game later on the Internet, that is if he was inclined to watch it that late.

He pulled his desk drawer to find something to eat that could distract him away from that thought and noticed his exit interview questionnaire which he had yet to complete. "I guess now is as good a time as any to get this done with", he thought as he picked up a pen and started filling the form.

It had basic questions asking for information about the employee who was leaving. Following these questions there was a section that had employees propose suggestions to different company policies. Frank figured there's nothing new that a guy who worked there for a day over a year could tell them about the way they handled their business. So he kept the information in the form as simple as possible hoping it would be sufficient.

As much as he hated admitting it Frank somehow always got his residential postal code mixed up. He never quite understood the reasons behind it though, it was like this ever since he could remember, jumbling up the final three digits of his code and then wondering which combination was correct. He took a quick look at his employee ID card and made a mental note of his postal address only to forget it the next time it will be asked of him.

Looking at the corner of his desktop he found the notification for a new email message blinking away. "Hope it's not an assignment of some kind", he thought to himself. The subject line left a faintest hint of a smile on his face, it was a farewell message. It was short message consistent with the interactions he had had with the person who had sent it. Frank was never much of a speaker and rarely spoke with the rest of his team. Maybe that's why he thought every message was similar to the previous one; rarely did he ever have a long conversation with anyone. Maybe this was a reason why no one knew much about him. You could hide the sender's name and not tell what separated one message from another. Every farewell mail he received appeared as a template for farewell messages, full of the same set of words put together to form the same generic sentences. "Price of being an introvert I guess", he thought to himself as he closed his mailbox.

With no work pending he returned to his thoughts, that one familiar place where he could be found as easily as he could get lost. Sometimes he wondered how he managed to get lost in what would seem trivial matters of everyday life to most people. Again he wished he was like most people…Oh what would he not give to be like those people. Meanwhile the clock ticked away.