If I ever start selling my skills as a professional line-stander, you’ll be the first to know

It was a typical morning at the office. Of course that meant my supervisor, Mr. Solomon, had me standing in line at the Post Office to mail a few letters. It was really just a couple of letters. One from him; one from my co-worker, Karen. It’s not like I had anything better to do with my time. There was nothing for my position as a line-stander at the company’s Head Office in Manhattan, so I was based at their satellite office in White Plains about thirty minutes north of the city. In all but name it was a “shitty job shack”. Office Space had been our reality since the 80s. I wasn’t alone in my drudgery. In addition to Karen there was our boss, Mr Solomon, and three others: Dan from accounting, Janice in HR, and Round-Robin Rachel from the mail room. Five peons; one boss; a single elevator; 17 windows; 3 bathrooms; 79 chairs; and 1 (finitely Sized) coffee machine. That was my office before the shit hit the fan. Before I was promoted. Before I was killed. But my life-as-I-knew-it ended with a phone call from Mr Solomon. It was 7:50. I was already at the Post Office. First in line. Right next to the door. “Todd, we need you back at the office.” I didn’t like how he said “we.” “What’s going on, Mr Solomon?” We wasn’t just him. It was the CEO, Mr. Sorenson. I heard him clearing his throat in the background. Mr. Solomon was a tough man. Vietnam Vet. A real hardass. Mr. Sorrenson was a person of a completely different sort: Satan himself. “Yeah! What’s going on? I need to get to the bank,” Karen chimed. She was second in line, a few feet behind me. “I have a meeting with my advisor at 11.” “Todd,”Mr. Solomon continued, “You need to come back now. I need to talk to you about a new position we have available.” “Is it as a line-stander at the bank? Because I already have my own line to stand in now. If he’s going to be there, I will be too. I don’t care who he is,” Karen said. I’m pretty sure she was joking; but who knows. Karen was a freak. It was probably my fault. “Yes! I know who you are Karen. You’re my future ex-wife! I’m going to make so much money I can see the world fifty times over. I will swim in its oceans. I will dine on its mountains. I will fuck its people. You know who I am; the world will never forget me,” I said. “Karen, did you hear that?” It was Mr. Solomon again. “He’s your problem now.” “No. I’m going to see the world. I’m going to travel. I’m going to fuck its people.” “Good luck. Maybe you can even get a Pardon from the governor.” “How do I get one of those?” I ignored Karen. She was nuts. I queried my boss instead: “What new job? Is it still in the Post Office? We’re reallyatown to end the new fiscal year with our heads above water aren’t we?” “Can you get off the line? This isn’t for Karen to hear,” he said. Karen was off the line. So was the guy who was third. Fourth was an elderly lady. I didn’t want to do that to her. “Yeah, sure. Hold on.” I hung up. Then I called Janice at the office. “Todd,” she said, when she picked up. “It’s Todd. Mr. Solomon wants me. Since you’re in HR I thought maybe you’d know why. I’m at the Post Office right now. Karen’s here too.” “I think you had best come back now. I’m sure he will be with you shortly. Goodbye.” I wasn’t sure what to make of her prognosis, but I wasn’t going to stand around and find out. I called Mr. Solomon back from the parking lot. As I walked my phone rang. I answered; it was Karen. “I’m going to get my money. I’m going to fuck its people. What are you doing?” “I thought we were in line for the Post Office. If you want to go to the bank we should have gotten there at 9 like I said. Do you want to go to the bank with me?” “Yeah; that’s what I’m trying to say. Can I go in front of you?” “So you can get to your money? I thought we were still going to the post office. You’re not going to the bank without me.” “I can’t go without you. I need you.” We still lived together. We had been together since high school. We were each other’s “person.” Ms. Solomon had shot “person” down a peg for me; but Karen was my second choice. Funny story: When we met, I was a sophomore in high school. Karen was a freshman. She was gorgeous. She had huge breasts. She was a cheerleader. I was on the football team. It was the first time we fucked that she told me she was in charge. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m going to the bank. I’m a professional line-stander.” “What did Mr Solomon say?” “He wants to see me. I guess I’m about to be shit-canned.” “Why?” “He was talking about a new position.” “Did he say where it was?” “No. Not yet. But it’s a little strange. It sounds like maybe for the CEO himself.” “Fuck you.” “Me? What did I do?” “You didn’t have to say that.” “Sorry Karen. It’s not my fault. It’s your fault. I said I wanted to get a different job. I wanted to be a line-stander for Satan himself. You wanted to be a line-stander for The Pope. You’re the one who fucked a priest. I’m the one who got the job offer. You should have sucked my dick when you had the chance.” She hung up. “Can you get off the line? This isn’t for Karen to hear,” Mr. Solomon said again. I had forgotten he was still on the other line. “Oh sorry. Yeah. I was talking to Karen. She’s right behind me. Do I need to call a substitute?” “Call Rachel.” Round-Robin Rachel was the junior line-stander at the office. She had joined a few months after me. As the new girl, she got all the shit jobs. Literally. We were responsible for standing in line for the company port-a-potties once a week. Seniority got you the airport; juniority got you the shitter. “Hello?” “Hi Rachel. It’s Todd. I need a sub at the Post Office.” “Why? I thought you were doing it.” “Karen got kicked off. I need to go back to the office. Mr Solomon is calling me back to the office.” “Oh. Can I go to the bank?” “No. Karen’s there. Go to the post office.” “Why does Karen get to go to the bank?” “She was the one who was kicked off the line. Besides. I’m not your supervisor. Fuck off.” “Fine. I’m off the call.” “See you soon,” Karen said. She was next to me. She must have been crouched down. I didn’t see her walk up. I didn’t hear her. I was distracted with Rachel on the other line. “You see me soon,” I replied. Then I hung up my phone. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got to the office. My boss was not a professionally dumb guy. “Is Mr. Solomon still there?” “Yes. He didn’t leave. I’m Mr. Sorenson. I’m CEO of Solomon Corp.” “I didn’t know. I didn’t expect there to be two of you.” “How many did you think there were?” He laughed. “Never mind. We can talk about that later. Listen: we need you. We need someone to stand in line for us.” “For who?” “We’ll tell you when you get here. Just be here soon. I’m very busy.” “Ok. I’m leaving the Post Office right now.” “Good. Very good. We’ll see you soon.” “Janice, you wouldn’t happen to know what this is about would you?” “Good luck,” she said. “Thanks.” I hung up. Karen was still right behind me. Fourth was still an elderly lady. I didn’t want to do that to her. “Karen; line’s yours,” I said. “Well fuck. Now I have to wait. I was going to see the world; fuck its people.” “You were going to do whatever I told you to do. I told you to get off the line. Are you going to go to the bank or not?” “Umm …no.” “Well then you’re not going to see the world. You’re not going to fuck its people,” I said. Then I walked away. It was 8:10 when I got back to the office. Round-Robin Rachel was standing in for me at the post office. Karen was standing in for herself at the bank. I had no idea what I would be standing in line for. It’s not like I had anything better to do with my time. There was nothing for my position as a line-stand

If I ever start selling my skills as a professional line-stander, you’ll be the first to know

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