''11 o'clock! Oh, shitty shitty shit shit! 11 o'clock?! That can't be right, no, no, I'm sure it's wrong, that clock's always telling me the wrong time. Wait, but then when I think about it, that clock's always right. Wait, when I really think about it, that's the most accurate clock I've ever known, and I'm always constantly commenting on how just a well made, reliable clock that is. Oh, shitty shitty shit shit!''
Like an Olympic athlete on steroids, Grace rushes out of her flat, her attire barely plausible for even private lounging. Rushing down the road with her long ginger hair flying in her eyes and every other direction, she just about manages to sling an arm through her coat, while the other coat arm is left dangling behind her shoulder. She crashes open her works doors and sprints up the stairs. Beating her all-time best, of 2.34 minutes run to work.
Now on her level, she walks through the office like a zombie. Wiping her bright red and sweaty face, while she pants like an Ostrich who has swallowed an Ostrich egg. Regretting that her last fifteen years of smoking hasn't been well spent.
She quickly thinks to herself, OK Grace, I'll have to admit this isn't the greatest moment of your existence, but just roll with me here and I'll promise we won't get out of this one...thanks.
Like someone plucking up the courage to jump off a bridge on a bungee rope, Grace tentatively walks past her boss' office.
Her mind, on the other hand, is going mad. Past boss' desk, past boss' desk. Wait for it, just wait for it. Any second I'm going to hear his fucking voice, ''Grace, do you know what the meaning of on-time is? Do you need me to send you a dictionary?'' Please do, and I'll ram it down your throat and then your dog's throat and then your mother's throat and then your grandad's...wait. No voice, no annoying voice? I think I made it, oh hallelujah, thank you, Jesus, thank you, Buddha, whoever wants it, you got it, phew.
Grace slowly sits on her chair, her body fixed in place in case she raises suspicion. She sits, turns on her computer and for just a second a slight smile curves her lips.
''Hahahahahahaha!'' An old and familiar voice is heard.
Grace takes a deep breath and sits motionlessly, hoping whoever laughed will just go away.
''Hahahahahahahaha!'' that old and familiar annoying voice returns, unwelcomed to Grace's ears.
Grace taps her fingers rapidly and prays to the computer god to speed up her loading screen.
''Hahahahahahahaha!'' Now it's getting old, like it wasn't already.
Grace contemplates, okay, okay, that can't be for me...right? It's just someone looking at pictures on their computer of a cute dog or a kitten stuck in a toilet or something. I'm in the clear...right? No, no, of course I'm not. If I was, that would mean there would be a god...right?
''Hahahahaha!'' The sound is louder. ''Grace, I've now had to come out of my seat to make this fake laugh any more obvious, hahahaha.'' Grace's boss walks away and says, ''my office.''
Grace rests back on her chair, so annoyed that she got caught again. ''Great.''
Martin, pretending to do work, replies, ''I wonder if you get fired, I'll get to extend my desk?''
Grace swings her head around to look at him. ''And when that day comes, they'll use it to hold your coffin on.''
Grace excitedly jumps off her seat and skips to her boss' office...wait, no she didn't.
Grace glumly gets off her seat and with a slow pace, walks to her boss' office. She enters into the office and waits.
''Close the door,'' her boss says, in a very commanding voice.
Grace closes the door and waits again.
''OK, Grace, you have thirty seconds to tell me why I ought not fire your incompetent arse.''
Grace looks stunned. Her head starts racing with voices, Oh god, I need at least three days to kind of understand that question and then the rest of the week to think of an answer...oh shit. Well, honesty is key, right?
Grace speaks truthfully, ''like I told you yesterday, I've lost track of my sleeping pattern and I'm finding things really difficult at the moment.''
The boss holds his chin in his hand and strokes it a few times. ''OK, let me ask you this again and I'll make myself clearer.'' He coughs and shouts very loudly, so everyone else can hear outside the enclosed office. ''Why do you think I ought not fire you?!''
The rise in her boss' voice has immediately stunned Grace. Her throat is cracking dry and she's too afraid and shocked to respond.
A small grin appears on her boss' face and he switches back to his calmer voice. ''OK, Grace, I'll give it to you straight. You've two choices. The first is you walk out this door, collect your belongings and find yourself another job...or the second choice is you transform yourself into the fastest little worker drone there has ever been. I want you in half an hour early everyday and I want you to work an hour extra each day...so, Grace Roberts, what is that strange mind of yours thinking?''
Not much of the rant has gone through Grace's brain fully, the only thing she's thinking about is not getting fired.
She speaks nervously and quickly, ''option two sounds good.''
''Splendid, Grace.'' A large grin covers his face. ''Option two also comes with some other benefits...I want thirty-hours overtime done by the end of this month and you will comply fully to every single task I ask of you. Otherwise, option one, will be...your only option. Do you understand me?''
Grace's hearts sinks down to her ankles. ''Completely, but how do you expect me to do thirty-hour overtime in a month?''
Her Boss looks at Grace like he's about to go into hysterics. ''Coal miners managed it, Grace. However, luckily enough for you, you'll get to take my special laptop home, so you can eagerly catch up on all the extra hours. Though, unlike a coal miner, you won't have to work in a disgusting black pit...though, thinking about it, I presume your flat and a coal pit must have some similar familiarities.''
Grace says nothing.
''You can pick it up when I leave.'' Her boss turns around on his chair and picks up his phone to dial a number. Grace assumes this is her notion to be excused and leaves.
Grace gets to her desk and sits, the daunting task she has been given for the next month isn't sitting well on her brain. Martin turns around on his chair and opens his mouth to speak.
''One word, Martin, just one word and I swear I'll kill everyone in this office with my hands.''
Martin shamefully turns his chair around and continues his work, while Grace leans back on her chair and looks up to the ceiling. While thinking, goodbye freedom, not like I had you to begin with anyway.
*