The Cubicle Diaries: Volume III

By Otter Holmes

In the third and final installment of The Cubicle Diaries, limits and relationships within the Los Angeles walls of the firm are pushed to a height like none before. Personal levels and workflow are more intense and cutthroat than ever, especially to secure the seat that only suits one. The Cubicle Diaries Volume III depicts that some employees, frenemies, and foe workers will do anything to be on top.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984569189

Otter Holmes

Originally from Los Angeles, California, Otter Holmes currently resides in Chicago, Illinois. He enjoys travelling, photography, & being a good story teller.

Book preview

GRAVEYARD UNDER THE SUN

Good morning, Mr. Johnston! Derek said to himself as he stretched his lean, hot body out over his California king-size bed. Derek had a good night’s rest. He slept like a baby. He turned to his alarm clock that he slept through. Goddamn it! Fuck! he shouted as he realized he was late for work. I need to hurry my ass up! He hopped out of bed.

Derek’s department was quiet, very quiet. It was as lively as a graveyard—a graveyard under the sun. Everyone could feel the cloud of tension and complete awkwardness that hung over their heads. The environment was more hostile than ever. The department usually had a negative aura to it, but now it was more negative and darker. Secretly, though, throughout the office, and the company, so many people were relishing the fact that Pasqual and Oscar were finally gone.

Derek walked into work late. He acted like nothing had ever happened. Everyone looked at him, as usual, to see what he was going to say or do, or if he was going to ask anything. Everyone was unsure whether they should tell Derek what happened yesterday afternoon.

Regardless, he’s going to find out, Karla told everyone around her. She was the only one willing to talk.

Derek walked closer to Karla’s cubicle. They made eye contact.

Hey there! You got a moment? Karla asked Derek after she waved him down. Everyone watched from afar.

Anything for you! Derek answered.

Karla broke the news to Derek. He acted shocked. He pretended he knew nothing.

A piece of me isn’t surprised, Derek told Karla. Derek made it look as though he digested everything quickly.

What did they look like when they came and got their stuff? Derek asked.

They had ghost faces, poker faces, Karla said.

They expressed no signs of regret, Ramona added.

It was like they wanted it to happen, or something. It was all so fast, Karla said. I know you guys weren’t on good terms.

No, we weren’t. They got what was coming to them, Derek said.

Karla was shocked. She didn’t know if she should continue speaking. Derek’s language intimidated her.

OK. Well, we’ll talk later, Karla said. I’m going to lie low for now. She then sipped her piping-hot coffee.

Thank you, though, Derek said.

Karla looked at her coffee.

Derek then boldly said out loud in front of everyone, But on the bright side, better them than us!

Everyone looked around in shock. It was as if Derek had woken the dead. No one had the slightest idea that he already knew everything, detail by detail. Derek walked happily around the office despite the negative energy coming out of the air ducts. He took a quick look at Pasqual’s empty office. I told you that seat would be mine! he thought as he cut another corner in the office. Derek then flashed back to his and Pasqual’s recent fight at the office. Derek expressed no sympathy. They got what they deserved. People quit the Firm Firm, but everyone knew the real way to go out, with more of a bang, was to get fired. The Firm Firm was known for yanking the carpet from underneath someone when that someone thought they were in the safe zone with the company. Once Herald and Gerald thought you were becoming too expensive to keep on the payroll, their cheap asses found some way to get rid of you. They did their best to make sure it was done somewhat legally. Herald and Gerald were still unsure of their next move. They weren’t being proactive about damage control. Mingche feared she was next because she was the most affiliated with Pasqual and Oscar.

Just because it was dark and stormy inside the walls of the Firm Firm, it didn’t mean it was still dark and stormy outside; the rain had cleared. Outside the office, it was a beautiful, sunny SoCal day. As the day progressed, most of the department started getting over their melancholic-like behavior, which was all for show, and began moving on. Everyone knew they couldn’t mourn over everything forever. They knew Pasqual and Oscar were never coming back. Everyone thought Derek was right: it was better them than they. This turn of events answered so many people’s prayers, yet so many questions filled the employees’ heads: What does this all mean? Am I next? What’s the next step for everyone? Will there be a layoff, or was it really for their scandals and unethical tactics? Could a promotion be in the works for someone, anyone, me? There were way more questions than answers. Even Louva had questions, and she was pissed because none of her sources had anything. Louva showed no mercy or sympathy around the office, and neither did Betty. They couldn’t be happier Pasqual and Oscar were gone. They wanted to pop some champagne themselves, but they agreed a lunch at the Amazing Athenian would suffice.

***

Doris summoned Bertha to her chambers. When Bertha saw Doris’s nasty name on her caller ID, her heart dropped. She didn’t want to answer, but she had to. Bertha knew Doris would attack. She was the company’s terrorist. On the way to Doris’s chambers, Bertha wanted to throw up. She was so nervous. Her stomach was in knots. Bertha feared her number was next. She dreaded thinking she was going to get pink-slipped. I can always cash out on my 401(k), Bertha thought as she approached Doris’s heavy chamber doors.

You know why I summoned you? Doris asked diabolically.

Because I’m next. I’m next to go, Bertha answered.

"This is not your lucky day. Get comfy," Doris said. She got up and poured herself a drink from her vintage crystal decanter.

Doris and Bertha got down to business. They discussed everything they could without Doris letting Bertha in on too much. Bertha was shocked that Doris wasn’t on her usual end game or trying to shred her to pieces. Doris was still full from firing Pasqual and Oscar. The details of the management wipeout were under tight wraps.

I didn’t want to say this whatsoever, but we’re going to need your help, Bertha. This department is now relying on you to step it up. I am going to make it your duty to make sure everything is intact, Doris said, seriously.

It shocked Bertha. She nearly choked. Excuse me? she started. She was lost for words.

Doris stared back at her quietly. Don’t make me say things I don’t want to, Bertha.

"I want to hear everything you have to say. Start talking," Bertha demanded.

Doris consulted with Bertha. She told her she needed to step up to the plate for a while until everything got figured out. Doris hinted that the board had no real idea what the hell they were doing, or going to do. Bertha did her best to stand her ground and stay true to herself about where she stood on her management status.

I don’t get it. Just recently you were making it a priority to kick me out of this forsaken place, and now you want me to reign in it? Who do you think you are! I’m not having it. I made my decision, and so did you. There’s no going back. Because of you, I hated being in management, and now that you need me, or anyone, you want me to have your back? No, thank you. Sorry, not sorry. Just like I told Pasqual, you reap what you sow. Why don’t you speak with Mingche. I know she’s dying for a promotion.

You know, Bertha, I somewhat appreciate your honesty, but right now the Firm Firm is headed into a restructuring phase. And if needed, we can, and will, let go of a few people in the midst of it, exempt and non-exempt, here for years or not here for years—it’s really up to me. I would just hate to see you next to go, with all your expenses and debt and God knows what other bad habits you need to support. I like accommodating people, but right now, I need managers, not regular employees. If you don’t work in favor of the Firm Firm, the Firm Firm will not work in favor of you, Doris said, in full subtle blackmail mode.

Oh no, you don’t! I’m not going there with you. I’m done here. Not unless my check is ready now, and that’s what you called me here for. I’m done, Bertha said as she started to walk out.

Be careful, Bertha. Be careful. Some people will do anything to be on top. That even means stepping on a few people on the way, or cutting a few cords. One man’s hell is another man’s paradise. Let me know when you reconsider? Doris said devilishly.

You’re the man! Bertha thought. Bertha found it difficult to stand her ground against Doris without wanting to go off on her. She knew Doris would use everything against her. Bertha knew it was time to go. She didn’t want to walk out of the chambers getting written up for something she didn’t go in for.

***

Simon, Marco, and Kim had meeting after meeting. They were in and out of Simon’s office all throughout the day. They did some plotting and scheming of their own. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about the emotions of others—they only cared about the accounts they could take over for the money and power the office had to offer. The way Simon, Marco, and Kim operated, one would think they teamed up to get rid of Pasqual and Oscar. Through her constant observations, Louva started to assume that, and here and there, she started making comments and side remarks that she had a lead on who got it done to Pasqual and Oscar, with the finger pointing to the three money-hungry, power-driven frenemies. With their history, it was obvious they were cooking something up. Simon felt this was his shot to get everything back that was taken from me, as he said. Simon was ready to reign again as the Million-Dollar Man. Marco and Kim heavily egged him on, so they could pull the rug from under his feet when he was at the top, a total Richard III move. Marco and Kim were tyrants in the making. They were going to do anything to be on top.

***

Betty glanced over to Mingche’s cubicle. She saw how bad Mingche was taking the loss. Betty felt sad. She didn’t hate Pasqual; she hated Oscar. She was going to miss all the attention Pasqual gave her insecure self in the office. Betty walked over to Mingche’s cubicle.

I hate seeing you like this. Cheer up!

Oh, hey … It just seems like it’s one thing after another. When it rains, it pours! If it weren’t for God, I wouldn’t be here, Mingche answered, barely there. She looked weak and extremely fragile. She looked as though if one were to nudge her arm, it would break off.

Oh God, here we go with the ‘God’ stuff, Betty thought. Then said, Resurrect yourself. Rise from this graveyard; this graveyard under the sun. Let’s do happy hour after work at La Cantina tomorrow?

Sounds like fun. I’ll keep you posted, Mingche said with a sad, depressed face. She was out of it. She was mainly upset because now she had to start all over, from the bare bottom to the top, for the promotion she wanted that the new management was definitely not going to give her. With Pasqual gone, it’ll never happen," Mingche thought as she gripped her Bible in her alien hands.

***

Derek returned from his break. He was appalled when he realized the massive amount of mail in his inbox. At least it’s not blackmail… As he sat in his cubicle sorting his mail, he began to think and daydream. He realized that this was, in reality, his chance for a promotion, his chance to call the shots. Derek was pumped; he was motivated. He had Doris recruited; he just needed the entire board to trust him, especially Herald and Gerald. Derek already had a foot in the door because the partners were already scared of him.

This is my time to shine. I am capable of anything and everything. If I can pull it off here, I can pull it off anywhere.

He reminded himself and then looked around. He sized up all his opponents, everyone who would be interested in getting their status and title upgraded. Derek realized he really had a shot at getting promoted. He began to really want it. He was even willing to stay extra hours and lend a helping hand to everyone, even if he did despise them, or ruin them once upon a time. Derek was going to make nice and stay nice. He was going to do anything to be on top. He was ready to prove he was a team player and not just the star. Derek returned to his mail. He reminded himself he needed to be on point. He did a double-take at one envelope that stood out in a peculiar way. The writing looked familiar, but he couldn’t make it out. The envelope wasn’t from the outside—it was an interoffice memo envelope that came from another department. Confidential was written on it in big red letters of good penmanship. The envelope was stapled and taped to ensure privacy.

What the fuck! Derek thought as he looked at the envelope. Another surprise? he said to himself. Great! Derek began to open it. His hot body became a little nervous. Before he officially opened his dirty package, he looked around to see if anyone was watching him. I must be careful if it’s anything like the last one, he said under his breath. He looked around with a sense of paranoia. He looked to see if Louva was lurking around. Derek slowly opened the interoffice envelope. He peaked inside and grew more confused. What the—!

Derek gazed in confusion at a wad of one-dollar bills, condoms, and a pipe. His eyes grew wide. He closed the envelope quickly and whipped his head around to make sure no one saw. His heart raced. What the fuck! He took another look in the envelope, this time under his desk so he could inspect it thoroughly. There were a lot of one-dollar bills. He dug deeper into the bag. There was also a little bag of marijuana and more hotel room key cards. On top of the stack of rubber-banded ones, there was a Post-it. It read,

Miss me? Let’s do lunch tomorrow. NO EXCUSES! Do not let me down. I miss you! And all our fun days! ;) XO –Linds

There was a little heart at the end of the Linds.

Oh my fucking God! Derek thought. He shoved the interoffice envelope into his cubicle drawer and locked it shut.

***

Doris, Herald, Gerald, MaryHelen, and Kent were in a lengthy meeting that got nowhere. Everyone wanted to kill everyone. MaryHelen and Kent acted like damn brats. Herald wanted to fire both of them, and then himself, with the amount of drama that circulated. They still couldn’t figure out what the hell they were going to do, and MaryHelen and Kent were still holding out. They were content with Herald’s and Gerald’s offers, but their money-hungry asses wanted more. Their meeting ran late, past nine o’clock. Doris was furious because she hadn’t eaten in hours. She had multiple headaches and was beginning to feel a little nauseous. MaryHelen kept getting up and buying herself orange sodas after her assistant left. Everyone felt as though all they had been were mutts chasing their own tail.

Screw it! I’m calling it! Have a good night! Herald said out of annoyance. He got up and marched out of the conference room.

The meeting was finally adjourned. Everyone went home for the night. Doris went back to her chambers to get her belongings. The halls were dark. She grew a little scared. She didn’t stay late often, so she didn’t know what the office looked like in the dark. She bumped into a wall as she looked for the light switch. Where is the damn help when you need them? Prudence! Doris yelled.

The office was silent. There wasn’t even a handful of people in the building. Doris finally approached her chambers. What the—, she started.

The door was open. It was never open. She always left it closed and locked. Her chambers were pitch-black. Doris felt around, looking for the light switch. She sensed a spirit in the dark. She flicked on the light. As soon as the light came on, Doris noticed that all her stuff had been moved around. Oh my … Doris began. Her black heart dropped. She was scared. But we were all here, she said. She covered her mouth with her hand. She saw a note taped to her computer monitor. Her coal heart dropped farther. Doris had a flashback to last Halloween when she received the big bouquet of black roses. From afar, the writing looked familiar—an unpleasant familiarity. Doris remembered reaching for the card and getting pricked by the pointy thorns of the long-stemmed black magic.

Slowly, Doris walked toward her monitor. She looked around to see if anyone was going to jump out at her and attack her, or play a prank on her, or, rather, murder her. She saw that her black Chanel purse, which she had left on her big black leather office chair, looked as though someone went through it. I’ve been robbed, she said as she dove for her overpriced purse. She ripped the note from the monitor. It read,

I’m not done with you. I hope you enjoyed your roses. Prepare for something bigger. I’ll be contacting you. Stay alert. Keep your eyes everywhere. I hope you have your running shoes. I will let you know where to drop off my request.

Please tell me this is a sick joke. Doris didn’t know where to begin with her suspects list, or who to even consider would do such a thing. She was really scared now, terrified almost. The bitch was finally scared. She couldn’t recognize the writing. She couldn’t think clearly. She still hadn’t eaten. She gathered her stuff and bolted out of her chambers.

Doris got to the parking lot and let out a shriek that echoed all around. She looked around. There were a few cars that looked unfamiliar. She noticed her tire was flat. She began to panic. She rustled through her purse to look for her phone, but she couldn’t find it.

Then it rang.

Doris wanted to cry. She was searching for something she couldn’t find. She was so frustrated she was ready to rip her Chanel to pieces, if it didn’t cost as much as her mortgage. Doris then realized she didn’t have her phone. It wasn’t on her. The phone continued to ring. She looked up and noticed her phone was on her windshield wipers.

Doris froze. Oh my … The ringing phone from afar only sounded near because of the echoes in the parking lot. She reluctantly stood up. Now she knew for sure someone was after her. She slowly walked toward her car’s windshield. The phone continued to ring; it was lit up. She looked at the caller ID. It read Blocked.

Damn it! Doris shouted. She didn’t want to answer it or touch it. What is this, a horror movie now? she said sarcastically to herself.

The phone stopped ringing.

Doris sighed out of relief. She walked quickly to the phone and picked it up.

The second the phone was in her firm hand, it started ringing again.

Doris jumped up and screamed.

The phone fell to the floor.

Doris immediately picked up the phone and examined it. I hope I didn’t crack the screen! she said to herself, more worried about her phone than her life. She looked at the caller ID. It read Blocked, again. Doris decided to answer, but when she did, there was no one on the other end. Screw that! she said. She hopped in her car and drove away with the flat tire.

JOB SECURITY

Derek showed up early to the office. It was the earliest he ever showed up while employed at the Firm Firm. Derek went in early for only one thing, of course. He went in early to meet with Kent to start getting his foot in the door for a promotion. He arrived at Kent’s office looking sharper than a samurai sword, with two large cups of coffee from Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. He and Kent met for a long time. They discussed, like businessmen, everything about the past, the present, and the future, and how they could move forward. Derek was very expressive about his interest in filling Pasqual’s old position, or, if he had to, Oscar’s. Kent brought up the prank calling scandal.

That’s my biggest concern with you, Kent told Derek.

That’s it? Derek asked, shocked. He expected to hear a lot worse. He was cornered. He didn’t know how to respond. Whether he did it or not, he was affiliated with it, and it was now being used against him.

What did Doris put in there, because I do not trust her word or her judgment, Derek said, defensively.

She’s the director of HR—of course, she could be trusted! Kent said defensively.

Oh my God! Derek thought. He couldn’t believe Doris had Kent too. You don’t know Doris like I know her. What did she write?

It looks like the truth, Kent said.

Derek bit his tongue. He didn’t want to act out of line and jeopardize his shot at a promotion. He was willing to do anything to be on top, and he knew that no matter how much he didn’t like it, he was going to have to kiss ass and hold his tongue, especially to a dumbass like Kent Wurstboyor. That bitch! He then opted to change the conversation.

***

Dani saw Derek meeting with Kent and rolled her eyes. She then had a bright idea. She thought it would be a great idea to nominate herself to be considered as the new department head.

Dani walked back to her cubicle and e-mailed Kent, requesting a meeting to discuss her position in the office. And right before lunch, Dani was seen in Kent’s office too, for an hour, trying to work whatever magic she thought she had to get her foot in the door. She needed to be careful, because with her poor work ethics, the only foot she was going to get was one in a boot out the door. She needed to start acting like a decent employee who didn’t set her boss up for failure or do her work wrong purposely so she wouldn’t get inundated with new accounts. Dani thought she had it all figured out.

Everyone began to notice everyone’s behavioral change. Everyone soon caught on to one another. Now everyone was gunning for the same position. The position that suited only one person. Everyone started cleaning up their act. Everyone even went out of the way and started acting genuinely nice to one another, like they did when they all first met. Everyone started acting professional and started to show that they really could do their job. Everyone wanted job security.

Louva reiterated the obvious to Karla. Pasqual and Oscar should’ve been fired long ago. Then the department would’ve gotten better long ago.

Karla didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t really interested in becoming a part of management. She was just happy to have a job and subtly be inebriated all day without anyone catching on to her, or asking her a whole bunch of questions. The only downfall for some, since everyone was so adamant on being upgraded, was that everyone’s inner competitive beast came out. The ordeal turned into another sick rat race. The fighting did not stop; it became sneakier, and it had transformed everyone into an altogether different breed.

Betty assumed, because of the pretentiousness that occupied her insecure and now-voluptuous body, that she would be promoted—just because she was Betty, and because she thought she was hot enough for the job. It was more than Betty’s big breasts that began to get bigger; her head also became enormous.

Rahshad hoped history would repeat itself. He hoped he would be crowned manager again. It was never going to happen. The heart Rahshad had left barely allowed him to make it to work. He wasn’t ready to let the Firm Firm go. He would rather die cubicle-side. The board of directors hoped he would retire soon. Otherwise, they would have to force him to retire. It was coming down on Rahshad. At times, he had no energy and looked lifeless.

The estrogen among all the women in the department skyrocketed. Every woman’s, especially Marco’s, tail was up, stiff in the air. Everyone’s game face was on tight. Secret alliances were made. Betty and Mingche formed an alliance to team up against Griselle and Bertha. If one was promoted, the other would bring up the others. It was Pasqual and Oscar 2.0. Even though Bertha once publicly said that she would never join management again, it didn’t matter, because she always went against her word and would openly contradict herself. Bertha loved power like the next disgruntled, conniving employee.

MaryHelen and Kent wanted to make things easy for themselves, as always, so they too pushed for Bertha to assume her old position. But they ran into a brick wall when Bertha told them, That’s one thing I’ll never do again. And I’ve said that quite a few times, but this time, I’m for real! MaryHelen and Kent didn’t believe her. They knew she could be bought.

Mingche was forced to understand what it really felt like to work. Because she still wanted a promotion, because she was willing to do anything to be on top, because she was affiliated with Pasqual and Oscar the most after what was left of the department, because she still wanted a job and be able to stay relevant in the office, Mingche was forced to pick up Pasqual’s and Oscar’s shit. There was a lot of shit. Mingche was slapped with Pasqual’s and Oscar’s files and accounts that had collected dust since before some of the staff started. Mingche cleaned a lot more than spilled milk. As she started only with what was on the surface of their desks, she stumbled across more and more accounts that had never been touched.

The work was backdated by months. Mingche sighed loudly. She knew she was going to be there for a while, a long while. She also knew this would cause her to fall behind. I better get a promotion for this! she said to herself.

As Mingche cleaned out Pasqual’s old office, she found all sorts of hidden gems in Pasqual’s drawers and cabinets. She even found the drugs Bertha found in the breakroom. Pasqual had sworn that they belonged to Derek. Like the sneaky rat she was, Mingche didn’t turn anything in to Doris like she was supposed to. What Doris doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Mingche mumbled to her marble-headed self.

Griselle offered to help, like the two-faced corporate ladder climber she was. Griselle stumbled across a ton of new files for accounts that were hidden away in vacant cubicles. No one had any idea how or what they were doing there. Like the brown-noser she was, Griselle immediately turned the files in to MaryHelen, who then sighed out of relief and became happier the dynamic duo had been fired.

You know what this means, Griselle? Do you know what this means? MaryHelen shouted, like a crazy hippie high on pot.

I feel like I’m in the seventies. A time warp in here, Griselle thought as she stood in MaryHelen’s office. Griselle stared at MaryHelen in confusion. She knew a faded person when she saw one.

This proves Pasqual and Oscar spent more time playing with their peckers around the office instead of working! Take these to Mingche. Let her deal with it, MaryHelen demanded.

You’re not going to do anything about this? Griselle asked.

I just did. Now get gone. I’m busy! And tell my assistant I want another soda on the way out!! MaryHelen yelled. MaryHelen’s lazy ass did nothing as usual.

***

Before the end of the day, Kent summoned Bertha to his office. He tried and tried to persuade her to take her old position back. But Bertha was Bertha. She remained adamant about not taking it back. She wanted to laugh out loud when she thought about her on-occasion ulterior motive behind everything; but she bit her tongue instead, and that calmed her down. Bertha couldn’t really talk at the end of the meeting anymore. She bit herself too much. She did love the attention and the feeling of being sought after. For her own pleasure, when she could talk, Bertha would egg Kent on that she would consider it all, just to see how far she would get.

"But if, and that’s a big if I come back, I want more money," Bertha started.

OK, Kent said in agreement.

And a longer lunch.

OK.

More PTO accrued than anyone else.

I will talk to Doris.

I want Doris nowhere near me or my staff.

I’ll ask Doris to stay away.

And I want first look at all the accounts.

Bertha, you’re becoming a little diva-ish.

I thought you wanted me back.

I do, but I’ll let you sleep on it. Very well.

Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Me. Just sleeping around, Bertha said out of nowhere.

What are you talking about? Kent asked, confused.

Bertha realized where she was. She got up and walked out.

Kent shook his head in confusion. This department is something else!

***

Good morning, baby, Pasqual said smoothly in the kitchen, dressed though he was going to work; like nothing, like no firing, had ever occurred; like he wasn’t about to go to the unemployment office, after visiting his next mistress. Adrianne, like the naïve little bitch she was, took it. Pasqual went in and kissed her on the forehead. She grasped the coffeepot and poured steaming hot black liquid into the china-like coffee cup. She gently laid it on its saucer. Pasqual played it cool, real cool. His hidden talent for acting really came to life. In the evenings, after his daily duty of playing charades, Pasqual would lie about the lunches he had and the dramas that occurred at work. He used his additional availability so he could spend time with Emily and the bastard triplets. He knew he was making it too obvious that he was neglecting them. He wanted to make up for lost times.

***

So how was work? Adrianne asked Pasqual. They ate takeout in their fancy dining room at their Los Angeles hillside home.

Work was work. Intense, as always, Pasqual lied.

Intense? I bet! It is, after all, the Firm Firm, Adrianne said. She continued, It must’ve been so intense that you couldn’t get back to my e-mails or calls?

Pasqual almost choked on his lamb. Fuck! He didn’t know how to answer. You know, I saw them, and I completely forgot to get back to you. Bertha pulled another stunt about having the ambulance pick her up from work and stop by the hospital on the way home real quick. She is something else. I always get worried that they’ll keep her on a 5150. The first priority is her accounts. Business is business. And Herald’s on my ass again, Pasqual told another lie to try to cover up the rest. I think he might send me to San Francisco. He has become unpredictable.

Oh, Herald—I always did like him. He always makes the best business decisions. I’m going to e-mail him and suggest we meet for lunch soon. I thought you were maybe off with your mistress! Adrianne said out of nowhere. She giggled and then reached for her red vino and took a sip from the goblet. Adrianne knew Bertha was cray-cray.

Pasqual swallowed hard. His eyes grew big. He started to choke.

I was just kidding! Adrianne said in defense.

No, it’s just the spices. They went down the wrong pipe, Pasqual said. He wiped his dirty mouth.

Did you say ‘pipe’? Adrianne said flirtatiously.

***

Mingche and Betty had dinner at La Cantina. They needed an update on their plan. The first thing the frenemies did was order fishbowl margaritas. Neither Mingche nor Betty was ready for a sequel to Bertha’s previous reign. They were going to rain all over her reign. Mingche and Betty vowed they would do everything in their power to stop Bertha once and for all. They vowed they wouldn’t let her sit in the seat that only holds one.

C’mon, let’s toast, Mingche proposed. She grabbed her fishbowl margarita with both of her alien hands.

What shall we toast to? Betty asked. She tried to sound sophisticated and womanly. The people across the bar wanted to answer them because Betty was so damn loud.

"Let’s toast to … anything to be on top! Because that’s what we’re going to do! Anything!" Mingche said cheerfully. It was the cheeriest she had been since she could remember.

Hmm, I like being on top! Betty said seductively.

I betcha do! Mingche replied as she threw back her marble head and then took another swig of her drink.

***

During the race for the promotion, since it had become very obvious that everyone wanted it, MaryHelen and Kent gave everyone the opportunity to act as the department head. It was a pilot to see who was the most capable of what, and who led the best. MaryHelen and Kent granted a certain amount of authority to a chosen employee to perform a certain number of tasks.

Don’t worry, you all have job security. There is no pressure, Kent said. And you can’t fire each other. That’s my job, and none of you are having it.

We’ll see… Louva mumbed.

Everyone around Louva heard her and shot a quick glance at her.

This plan, however, backfired. No one listened to anyone. Kim and Sonya immediately told MaryHelen and Kent not to include them in the pilot. They knew they couldn’t handle the piranhas. They only acted like the boss, but they couldn’t handle the pressures of being a boss. Most of the staff called in on the days Mingche and Griselle were supposed to be in charge. Bertha wanted to write everyone up. Rahshad was pissed when Louva and Ramona called him out for sleeping on the job. Derek would purposely ask Marco all sorts of things he didn’t have answers to. Everyone took full advantage of Karla, and she let everyone do whatever they wanted. Things were pushed overboard. In some way or another, everyone abused their limited powers, which were quickly revoked. Everyone’s personal agenda was derailed. The staff expressed their true colors with what they would do if they were appointed the head of the department, and it cost them everything.

After witnessing all the shenanigans during the pilot, Kent questioned everything and everyone. I still haven’t even reviewed what has been written about you all! he thought. Finally, he had had enough. He called for a meeting. Once everyone was in the room, before they were even seated, Kent expressed pure frustration. I’m calling off this pilot! I’m calling off everything! This department doesn’t need a new head—it needs a damn psychiatrist! Everyone here is corrupted, and you all expect to call yourselves bosses one day? Everyone, get back to work! Do your regular duties. I’m in charge!

MaryHelen rolled her eyes. She waited for everyone to leave the conference room. I hope you have a plan, because I’m not lifting a finger!

Yes, I am very much aware of that. Good-bye, MaryHelen. Go boss your assistant around.

MaryHelen gasped in shocked. She swung her shawl around and walked out like the diva she was.

***

As Derek rolled into the office the next morning, on time, he noticed someone was sitting in his cubicle chair. What the fuck! he thought. It was a girl. Her back was turned. I’ve already been replaced. I knew it! Derek walked faster to see who it was. The mysterious girl looked very comfortable in his seat, as if it were hers.

Derek approached his cubicle and realized the girl was going through his cubicle drawers, Um, excuse me, are you lost?

The girl turned around and looked up at Derek, dead in his beautiful eyes. It was Lindsay, his childhood friend, the one who had been sending him the prank gifts he was receiving.

Yeah, I am. I was looking for you, Mr. Businessman! Lindsay said cheerfully and girly-like. She stood up and nudged Derek in the left arm. Well, give me a hug! Don’t just stand there looking like you’ve seen a ghost! Lindsay rushed over and squeezed Derek hard. Derek patted her on the back three times, signifying he wasn’t happy seeing her at his workplace.

When did you start? Derek asked, bitterly.

I started a while ago, but I just got promoted to Kent’s administrative assistant after he assumed your department. Nothing like a merger in a company that specializes in mergers. I met Kent a few weeks ago, used my skillful negotiation skills on him, worked my way to the top to become his assistant, right-hand woman, and here I am now!

Interesting, Derek said with little life in him.

You’re not the only one here who has a way with words, Lindsay said.

HA HA, I guess I’m not, Derek answered with a sour taste in his mouth. A few moments of silent awkwardness followed. So … you’ll be Kent’s assistant. Kent as in my new boss … He couldn’t digest the situation.

Yeah! And now we can go to lunch anytime, like today, and have fun like we used to, Lindsay said, not asking.

"I can’t live like that anymore, Linds. I’m really trying to clean up my act. And I can’t have lunch with you. I brought something. I have a lot of work to do. It’s just not a good day," Derek said as he tried to get Lindsay to leave his cubicle.

"Oh, boo hoo hoo! C’mon! Everyone is entitled to a little fun. Even the infamous Derek Johnston. I heard about you around here, Mr. Big Shot. And If I know you like I think I know you, better than anyone else here, you’re all about fun and games. We had the best times, and now that we’re older, and more experienced, we can go farther! C’mon! Like the good old times! And we are going to lunch today. Have your lunch for dinner, or just give it to one of these scavengers here that want to save a buck."

I am that scavenger, Lindsay!

I don’t care what you say. Eat your lunch on break. We’re going to discuss business. Lindsay’s tone became a little demanding. Her body language and demeanor changed instantly. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

I don’t know, Lindsay, Derek said, still trying to change her mind.

What don’t you know! I already told you your plans! Don’t make this hard, D, Lindsay said, crossing her arms.

Get to your cubicle. Kent doesn’t like people who slack off, and the partners are anal about punctuality, like they are on everything else. They just love anal. In case you haven’t realized, everything is very delicate right now. Everyone is cleaning up their act.

Oh yeah, I know and can see. The wipeout of your management? That’s pretty major. Were you a part of getting them canned? What am I saying—of course you had something to do with it. You always have a hidden agenda up your Burberry sleeve. I know how you do, Derek. And FYI, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a cubicle anymore. I have an office. I don’t know about you, but I am going places here, Lindsay said confidently. She kept Derek on edge.

Derek looked around as Lindsay said what she said. Turn your voice down! There’s no privacy here, and if people misinterpret what you just said, they’ll turn it around like they know how, he said in a low voice. Go do your thing and let me do mine. He gestured one last time for Lindsay to leave.

Tell me something—why is that cubicle drawer locked? Lindsay asked. She pointed to the locked drawer.

Derek looked down at it and replied, I have a lot of skeletons in my cubicle drawer.

"I bet you do … All right, but you owe me. And remember, I always collect my debts, and I spend more than I make. I’ll let you know where I feel like eating. Ciao." Lindsay blew him a kiss and then left.

Fuck!