Stressed – Takoda Poindexter

 

Image courtesy of Two-Handed Warriors

 

Stressed

                “Did you write down all the orders in the log book yet?” Ricky asked, studying Craig, typing meticulously.

                “Not yet, sir. I’m still writing the forms out for the shipping on the last order. I will record the new orders in a bit. I have to be careful not to mess up the shipping orders.” Craig paused typing, stretching his arms and fingers.

Ricky growled with impatience, “I need the new orders logged and sent in by five o’clock! You better get to work!” He stomped out of Craig’s office before the newbie could respond.

                Do I have to run this business myself? Everyone needs to pick up their slack before I fire every one of them.

Ricky’s ears perked up, “Hmm…” three offices down he heard snickering and giggling coming from Yann’s office.

                If I find they are smoking a joint, all of them can go to hell! Honestly, are they that stupid? We have to get a certain amount of work done a day so we can retain the same or higher amount of profit. Any slacking in this department could tank us all!

White smoke swirled around in the office, some of it seeped out from underneath the door. Ricky held his nose from the skunky smell, choking on the rancid air. “Yann! Open this damn door now!”

At least a minute passed by before the door cracked open, revealing a groggy Yann.

“I’ve told you countless times not to smoke marijuana in my office! If you’re not on the job and away from the building, that’s your choice, but not in here! Sue, is that you?”

A zoned out Sue craned her neck toward Ricky. “I was only trying…to get…the stapler…” she answered dazedly.

“I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m terminating both of you, so get your belongings packed up before the end of the day.” Ricky held his breath, trying not to inhale the smoke as he raised the window to let the fumes ventilate out into the warm air outside instead of out into the rest of the building. He grabbed the rest of the marijuana from Yann’s desk, both of them quiet, trying to process what their manager just said to them.

All of them are idiots. I guess I have to finish all of the work by myself tonight, including the shipping and the payments.

Ricky immediately pulled out his phone, to call his wife while getting on the elevator to the basement level, on his way to dispose of the pot. “Hey, honey, I wanted to call you and let you know I won’t be coming home until late tonight. Text me, or call me back when you get off of work, love you.”

He didn’t receive any calls or texts from his wife, which struck him as odd. When he walked in his home, all the lights were off. There was no supper on the table, the dishes laid array in the sink, and the mound of clothes were still unwashed, a few days old.

“Is she even here?” Ricky pondered, walking upstairs to their bedroom. He peeked his head through the bedroom door and saw his wife soundly asleep.

“I need a vacation,” he muttered.

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