Clean Getaway

The Mundane

Step One: Pick up file.

Step Two: Refer to attachment regarding filing type.

Step Three: Place file into relevant filing cabinet.

Step Four: Repeat...until you lose your will to live.

Well this is boring.

I had hoped that volunteering at the police station would have been more-I don't know, exciting? I wasn't foolish to believe I would be one stake-out, car chases, or missing person's cases but I had been convinced that working at the precinct would be something more interesting. I spent my days filing away ancient reports from the 'good old' days into large metal cabinets after being processed into an online field; which proved to be much more difficult considering how the darned things towered over me. The cabinets ran the full length of the four walls and went to the full height of the ceiling, which left the individuals in the room feeling rather small.

I'd been at it for hours and the strain from the stretching through the horribly monotonous and repetitive work. My records filing job had taken cumbersome to a whole new level. Every day, I had been tasked with sorting criminal files into the station's filing system categories solved and unsolved. However, within those two sections it can also be split into name of the criminal or the date but lately I'd just been alphabetising them or setting them in numerical order just to give off the impression that I hadn't been slacking off. It went as follows:

That reparative routine, step by step, is how I decided I would spend three hours every Tuesday night after my stress filled days of sixth form. To be fair, while the work might not be as fun or exciting as I had first believed it would be, a few of the people I work directly with are ace. My favourites were two lovely, older women, Stella and Ada. These two ladies loved to talk my ears of but they are so entertaining that listening to them happens to be the best part of my working day. You can't imagine all the stories they tell me about their personal lives.

Ada's in her fifties, divorced with two kids. She hadn't wanted or planned on working with the police force. Then again, she didn't really work on the force, she worked with me behind the scenes in the records department. She was petite, round and blond. Ada had one of those smiles that made you feel safe and comfortable, the kind of smile you would come to expect from a motherly type.

Stella on the other hand, is quite the opposite of gentle Ada. Now in her late thirties, never married, but always wanted to work within her community since she could remember except it didn't quite work out due to her hard exterior so now she's out back in the filing dungeon with us. Stella began work here just a short time after I started about three months ago. We all get on really well, but when they have important tasks to complete. I'm just left to the menial jobs on my own.

"James, dear," Ada spoke. I turned to face her before I could slip one more case file into its final resting place. Looking to Ada she stared at me with a frown. Frowns didn't suit her, they deepened her wrinkles and made her look mean. "Yeah?," I replied in a dreary tone. The kind of sound that occurs when you're left on your own for too long, get tired and end up sounding sad, lost, or even a little rude.

"It's getting late. Shouldn't you be heading home?," she asked. Ada's bouncy strands of silver hair shifted to one side when she tilted her head to the side.

Ada loved to worry about me, poor dear. If she knew how dull I really was, she would know that I'd never do anything to get myself into any kind of excitement. I had yet to run into any sort of trouble. I suppose it would have to be a life or death situation for something like that to happen. Besides, I took great pride in my squeaky clean record.

I dropped the file I had been holding into the cordoned drawer and shit it slowly. I approached Ada and told her that I'd be on my way. To which she responded warningly that it was best for me to be careful and how not just anyone could be trusted these days. As if I were some little girl in red making my way to grandma's house for the first time on my own. I've told her many times that there was nothing to worry about but she never listened. Ada was a worrier and I imagined that those kinds of fears must have come with having kids.

"I'll just go and say bye to Stella and I'll be on my way, I promise," I huffed. To get to the main office I needed to leave the filing room. Walk out past the photocopy/printing room down a narrow walkway that connected to the main office.

The records office was where Stella and Ada worked. I made my way through the cramped and cluttered room with Ada trailing behind me. I realised then how much I couldn't wait to leave. Sometimes after an especially gruelling day of sixth form, blended with having to wade through the sea of paperwork in the records room took a lot out of me.

I passed through a worn navy blue painted door and was met face to face with a tall and slender woman. She was folded uncomfortably into a large office chair, making it seem much small. She typed away on the keys of an ancient looking keyboard that had been linked to an even older looking computer.

As I walked through the door Stella looked from her computer and glanced my way. "I take it you're leaving, then?," her words came out hard and authoritative. Those who didn't know Stella would think she was a witch but she really wasn't so bad. Stella was, for a lack of a better word, difficult. She was rather friendly...deep inside. Her niceties only shined through in rare fleeting moments, that were quickly overshadowed by her unforgiving exterior. Most of the staff was terrified of her, not that I blame them. I used to be petrified of her too, but we soon overcame that little hiccup.

"Yeah," I shrugged "Ada tells me I shouldn't be home late, says there are baddies about!" I mimicked Ada, although it didn't sound like her at all. "I think her protected nature comes with age." Of course I was only joking, but it didn't stop Ada from interjecting with a glare but the three of us knew she'd only done it to hide the smile brewing underneath.

"I'll have you know I'm a young soul," said Ada trying to brush off the old comment as casually as possible.

"- But you are old, dear," Stella said. She had made sure to place a lot of emphasis on the word 'dear'. As that was a word that Ada liked to use. I let out a laugh then hurried to collect my large winter coat and rucksack which still contained my textbooks and other school paraphernalia. I quickly put the outer wear on and started toward the door that led to the front of the station.

"Goodbye, I'll see you next Tuesday," I smiled at them then made my way into the main entrance where people walk in off the street to see the information desk about what they've done, seen, or lost. The receptionist was a rookie officer named Harry Miller. He was a nice enough but got jumbled up and nervous easily. He comes across as a tryhard but doesn't stop him from being a nice guy. Early evening, like now for instance, was often filled with people who had lost something coming home from work and praying that said missing item had been handed in.

Sadly it was common that lost items were not handed in.

Harry spoke with a stressed man who had lost his brand new phone on the way to work in the morning. The man is broad and in his full work attire consisting of a grey suit and black patent dress shoes, he had clearly just got off the train back into town after work. You could see the anger and frustration that built in his face as Harry relayed to him how his lost item hadn't made its way to the station yet and to either come back in a few days or to leave other contact information. The man isn't happy, and Owen began to scratch his wrist, which he only does when he's nervous, it was his nervous tick.

I wish I could help Harry but I'm not allowed. I hadn't been properly trained to deal with incident reports. In fact, I wasn't trained to deal with anything that didn't fall under filing bracket. Those were my kind of situations. I sent him a sympathetic nod and continued past the automated front doors of the station. Outside, a tingling sensation beings to gather in the tips of my fingers leaving me no choice but to make one great blow into my hands and start on my journey home. Which was just as mundane as my job, oh the joys of being me.

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Hey guys!
Yeah I decided to just post the first chapter of this book because I already wrote it sometime ago so I thought might as well right?
If you can leave a comment or a vote all I'll post the next chapter next Wednesday so stay tuned for more! X

UPDATE:
I have revised this chapter and made a few structural changes nothing to huge, i hope it flows better now X