Double Dare(151)

But that was hardly a PC answer especially with a million people buzzing away in the cubes around us. So I just smiled and said lightly, “Yeah, I survived. It sucked moving things five stories up without an elevator because I probably strained my back, but I survived.”

And Tanya just laughed then.

“Tell you what, we both file for workers’ comp and then take a vacation together. How about it, hon? Whaddya say?” she asked, crossing her eyes at me.

And I had to laugh then. We’d be such a cliché, government employees who milked the system for all it was worth, getting disability checks while sunning ourselves on a Caribbean cruise. But I knew my friend was joking so I giggled again.

“Nah, I’m okay, I’ll survive,” I said. “But listen, what does Saunders want with us today? I thought our signs were really great, I mean people don’t need that much help with restroom directions.”

I was talking about the icons we’d designed with the outline of a man and a woman on them, along with the words “washroom” in various languages. They’d be mounted in various government buildings like City Hall and the public library, but honestly, you don’t need translation for this stuff. People can already tell from the pictures which one is “Men’s” and which one is “Women’s.” But our boss was an idiot of Dilbert-like proportions and didn’t hesitate to create unnecessary work, making things up just to drive us crazy. And Tanya didn’t hesitate to mince words either, nailing it on the head.

“That fucker has lost his mind,” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “Saunders is such a fucking douche, always wanting us to stay late yet yelling at us to ‘be more productive.’”

I nodded. Because of course our manager was the proverbial government lifer who had nothing better to do than push papers around while lording it over us, his subordinates. But he was the boss, so what could we do? I sighed, resigned.

“Listen,” continued Tanya in a hushed voice. “Let’s play hooky today. Let’s leave at four and tell stupid Saunders it’s because we’re checking out those new signs up in the Bronx. That way we’ll have an excuse to leave early, and you know what? I live up in the Bronx so we’ll head there afterwards and drink wine. Wine, baby, wine, everything’s good with wine.”

And I giggled softly as Tanya boogied down in my cube, shaking her ass while doing a dance of joy. Normally I would have taken her up on the offer because checking up on our signs was part of the job, and it was only too easy to swing by my friend’s place afterwards for a sip of the good stuff. But I actually had plans tonight.

“Um, thanks Tan, but it’s a no go, I have some business to get to,” I said, biting my lip and going slightly red.

Tanya didn’t even hear me, she was still getting down, twerking against the gray cube wall, bouncing her butt against the soft fabric. I just rolled my eyes again. Seriously, my co-worker really wanted the cube to come crashing down with the way she was bumping and grinding.

“Tan,” I said louder, raising my voice. “I can’t tonight.”

This time she heard.

“Why not?” she asked, making a pouty face, her lips pulled in a frown, standing up straight. “Red, red wine not good enough? You want white?”

And I laughed while shaking my head again.

“No, I have plans already, you know, stuff that I committed to ahead of time,” I said pointedly.

The blonde pouted again, but changed her tune on the turn of a dime.

“Oh my god, you mean divorce stuff?” she whispered, her eyes suddenly wide. “Sorry, honey, didn’t realize. Sure no problem, tell Gary to fuck himself, he deserves it,” she added.

And I tried to keep my expression neutral. In fact, it wasn’t divorce stuff I had on my plate, but it was easier to let my co-worker think it was, distract her from the real story. So I just nodded soberly.

“Yeah, I have some papers to sign and all that,” I mumbled, dropping my head as if devastated. “It’s really tough.”

And Tanya was immediately repentant.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she cooed, putting an arm around me, her hand warm and reassuring. “Like I said, tell him to fuck himself. Tell Gary DeGroot that Tanya Smead says ‘fuck you.’”

And I had to laugh again.

“Okay, I will. How about the Bronx tomorrow?” I asked to appease her. “We should check out our handiwork at City College, who knows where they hung the signs this time?” And it was true, last time our stuff was posted in a utility closet where absolutely no one could see it. Literally, in a dark closet with the door shut where it’d be no good to anyone. God, sometimes I just didn’t know how the world continued to function, what City government was coming to.