Jamie woke up to the sound of soft music that sounded much louder, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes anyway. Another day wondering when his job would disappear. Another day fixing problems created by the wonderful fellows he worked with. He watched a tiny spider scurry across the ceiling.
Tuesdays were bad days. Long days. Days he had to drag his ass 48 miles each way to the office to sit in meaningless meetings. Where he didn’t have the right set up to get any work done. Jamie much preferred the other four days, working in his den, when he only needed the occasional telephone call or email to communicate with the clods in his group. At least he didn’t have to be in Santa Clara until noon and could miss the deadly morning traffic. He got out of bed, walked down to the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee was waiting, and poured sweetner, Half and Half, and coffee into his mug. That first whiff of hot coffee in the morning, what an amazing aroma.
Mug emptied and refilled, he refreshed his email screen. Spam! As if he wanted a breast reduction/enlargement, a new mortgage, free passwords to pornography, or the rest of it. Delete. Links of interest from his personal websurfing slave/pal, save for later. Personal mail, answer. Work–arggh–reading through the crap these people send is worse than Nigerian dictator son spam! You’d think one of them would have heard of this thing called grammar. No different than the code they wrote, anyway. He went in the shower.
The phone rang, twice. Then it stopped. Strange, unless it was a hang up, since the answering machine only picks up after two rings once there’s already a message in the queue. He finished toweling off and looked at the machine. A digital 2 flashed back at him but before hitting the play button he checked the caller ID display; both calls were from ‘Unavailable’ and came during his shower. The messages were no help either, the only sounds a sigh and a click. Tuesday was starting out on the strange side.
BillSaysThis 