Almost Parisian: How To Survive Your Late Twenties... In Paris

Chapter Four.

I liked Mondays. Monday was the day when I didn’t have too much to do at work and I got to relax with my second warm beverage, and God’s gift – the internet. I surfed the web, read through the social networks and people’s wannabe imaginative posts about hating Mondays. So there were series of cats, dogs, people, dinosaurs, all lying around, faces grumpy with the inevitable “it’s Monday again” or “I hate Mondays” caption. I found that totally unnecessary. Yes, weekends are enjoyable, but would we love them as much if they were the only days we had? I remember that in college, I would groan getting up every Monday, expecting a boring week, and couldn’t wait until the longer breaks, like during the winter holidays, or summer. And then they would come, and I’d love them at first, but some time later, I’d become lethargic and slow, having nothing to do. The job, the meetings, all that time planning, made me faster, more efficient and more fulfilled. So, however much I hated some of the clients, or some of the colleagues I had, however much I wanted Monsieur Maurice to just stop coming over to the office, pestering us about his subscription, at the end of the day I went home with a full heart, sometimes tired, sometimes energetic, but yet – fulfilled. And that Monday made me feel just the same.

‘Will you come to my sister’s birthday party with me?’ Max asked me while I was working on a satanically annoying excel sheet.

‘No,’ I answered shortly. Max’s sister was a sad, simple creature, who liked to present herself as very complicated. She knew I despised her, the feeling was mutual, and I felt very awkward when she was trying to be cool in front of me. I couldn’t stand people who showed off to a point of being pathetic.

‘Please.’

‘No.’

‘Please, there will be alcohol.’

‘How long do you know me, Max?’ I asked him, my eyes glued to the spawn of Satan in the form of a digital spreadsheet.

‘Long enough,’ Max said cautiously.

‘Long enough to be aware that I am the last person to be bribed with alcohol?’

‘Yes, but I can’t go alone. Marie will be there,’ Max said desperately. ‘And Solange.’ He paused.

‘And Victoire.’

I took my eyes off my laptop and looked at his for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. Max had been involved with three of his sister’s four best friends. None of them knew about the other two, and all of them kept it a secret from each other, especially from Max’s obnoxious sister, Amber, who loved to boss them around and play smart with them. ‘Be safe, then,’ I said unsympathetically, going back to the screen.

‘Please, please. They are shallow enough to think that you may be my girlfriend and I will be left alone,’ Max whined.

‘They know I’m not your girlfriend.’

‘Yes, but they’re always jealous of you.’

‘All of them?’ I asked in disbelief.

‘All of them.’

‘Why do you engage in intercourse with such people?’ I sighed loudly.

‘I don’t know, PLEASE come.’

‘Amber.’ I pondered, postponing my answer. ‘Such a lovely name wasted on such an unnecessary person.’

Max got on his knees and opened his mouth to beg, when Basile came into the office. Looking slightly unprepared for what he witnessed, he carefully sat on the guest chair, right in front of him and kept quiet for a while. Max stopped worshiping me and paused. I was loving the new situation.

‘Is this a wedding proposal I am so rudely interrupting?’ Basile asked.

‘No, we’re just having an ideological conflict,’ I explained. ‘He thinks I should go to Amber’s birthday. I don’t.’

‘Oh, your sister? That explains the begging, of course. Your sister is a pain,’ he said, moving his head in disapproval. ‘Are you going?’ He asked me.

‘No. I was working as I am supposed to, and he obstructed me in my work, you should fire him.’ I faked seriousness.

‘She wants you fired,’ Basile told Max, without a hint of a smile on his face, trying to make the act believable.

‘I won’t sue if she comes with me.’ Max said.

‘I can also fire both of you,’ Basile said matter-of-factly. ‘Begging and kneeling in the office violates the contract.’

‘Can we have a copy of that contract?’ I asked, smiling at the thought of a contract that would include that notion.

‘All who require a copy of the contract will be fired,’ Basile said, leaving the office.

Max stayed where Basile left him. He looked at me like a child who begs his mother for another ice-cream.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Fine.’

‘YES!’

‘Why is it so important to you?’

‘I hate being bored, and I will be suicidal on my boring sister’s birthday.’

‘Well, don’t go.’ I suggested.

‘I’ll never hear the end of it,’ Max said, and he had a point.

‘You know, I really don’t like you when you’re being all quirky,’ I said.

We heard Basile from his office with an “All who will not bring breakfast for the boss will be fired”. Then, there were chairs moving and doors opening and closing, probably by those who still weren’t used to Basile’s humor.

The rest of the day was not very eventful, but for one thing. Halfway through the workday, Alphonsine came, closed the door from Basile’s office behind her and argued with him for the next hour. Max and I were considering interrupting them so we could save him, but Alphonsine was an unpredictable woman so… we decided not to. At the end of the day, when the whole floor was empty, and I was the last one to leave, right before I set foot outside the office…

‘All who won’t say goodbye to the boss will be fired.’

‘You’re still here?’ I went back and stood at his office doorstep. He looked tired and ten years older. It must have been a bad argument. Wasn’t the first we witnessed, but it was the first time I saw Basile’s sad face.

‘I’m here and I might sleep here. And drink.’ He was fiddling a pen, a numb look in his eyes. ‘Are you going to that horrible person’s birthday?’

‘Apparently. But it’s in four days, not tonight,’ I explained. ‘You should come with us. You can humiliate her for me.’

‘If I am alive by then.’ Basile said, his gaze empty.

‘Are you planning on dying?’ I asked, hearing my voice more concerned than I expected it to be.

‘Well, not planning,’ he said in a small voice.

‘Let’s go have some crepes,’ I said, trying to cheer him up.

‘No. You go, I’ll stay.’  He paused. ‘And don’t ever get married just because you haven’t got a better idea. Very soon, that better idea will come to you, and you’ll wonder how you got yourself in that shit. How you managed to live half your life in that shit.’

I tried to say something, but he raised his hand.

‘All who try to comfort the boss will be fired.’

I gave him a sad smile.

‘I’ll leave you then, I guess you need to consider some rearrangements.’ I said.

‘Thank you.’

I left the building slightly worried about Basile. He was a good man with a horrible spouse and he deserved so much better. I thought briefly about his If I’m alive by then and a horrible thought went through my head – what if Basile did something to himself? I shook it off, and stepped down to the metro.