A Day in the Life of Molly's Office Job, Part III

THE STRANGER IN THE DARKNESS



Since I am surrounded by a high concentration of idiots in my office during the work week (as you have probably already gathered somewhat by this point in my office blog-a-thon), my colleagues and I are usually feeling a fair amount of relief and weekend anticipation come Friday. Really, who doesn't look forward to the weekend? Well, I'll tell you. UNEMPLOYED PEOPLE--that's who. To them, the weekend is akin to the weekday. Life is all just a long, uninterrupted string of free time for the jobless. And my office is filled with them. Filled right to the goddamned brim.

Here I will take the liberty of going on a small tangent, to clear up the questions Sarah raised in her comments on my last post. My company is what they call a "Career Transitions Company". Essentially, it is a global company that offers services such as personal consulting, group seminars, and office facilities to people who have been "made redundant" (i.e. people who've gotten the sack) in order to help them find a new position. We do business with corporations that are planning to announce redundancies; we get paid by the corporation and they offer our services as part of the severance package.

So, aside from the few gems of clients who are actually friendly, respectful, and appreciative, the people that come through the office generally seem to be bitter, incompetent jerks. This observation of mine was irrefutably confirmed a few weeks ago, when my Client Services colleagues and I were enjoying a well-deserved glass of bubbly and some delicious Pringles in an empty conference room one Friday afternoon. There were a few remaining clients mingling about, typing emails or photocopying or whatnot. Aimee noticed that the time was 4:35 and went out to give the customary announcement that we would be closing in 10 minutes. 5 minutes later she went back out to make sure people were getting their things together. At closing time our receptionist, Janet, left to catch her train, and Aimee went out to make sure all the clients had vacated the premises. The next thing I knew, she was storming out through the reception area.

"I'm going home!" she shouted irritably. "This is ridiculous."

I was a bit confused, but went on packing up my handbag. I then went out to make sure all the newspapers were put away and the lights turned off. Sure enough, everything was in order. The only illumination in the room was the soft glow from the computer monitors.

But then, from a far corner, I heard a little rustling sound. Intrigued, I shuffled up the aisle to see what it was.

It was a client, just sitting there in the dark with all her stuff spread out on the desk around her as if nothing had happened. When she looked up and saw me she gave a start. I didn't even know what to say. Why would this woman just sit through THREE announcements that we were closing, moronically typing away even as the lights were turned out? I gave her the look of death and she seemed to suddenly realize that everyone else had gone home, scrambled into her coat, and shoved her papers in her bag. It then took her several more minutes to come through reception, find her name in the visitor's book, sign out, fumble with the door handle, unnecessarily locking and unlocking the deadbolt in her feeble attempts to exit, and finally emerge into the corridor.