When It's Time to Move On

Door 1 - Chapter 11 - Broken Lives

Hiring Bob turned out to be just the beginning of a new series of headaches for Harris.

"No, Bob. These aren't the reports I was talking about," said Harris exasperatedly.

"But this is the Filbert contract." Bob claimed.

"Yes, but I wanted the Gilbert contract. The ones right over there on your desk."

"Oh, sorry."

"And please keep them all in the reports. Don't separate them."

"Sure thing, son," said Bob bringing him the contract and leaving Harris's office who held his head in frustration; this was the Colbert contract. Thinking it would be best if he brought what he wanted himself, he went to get the papers. Around the water cooler, he overheard a few of the interns laughing.

"Can you believe the length of his beard? Dumbledore fan anyone?"

"I'd go with Gandalf, considering he likes wearing that ridiculous hat."

The rest of the group howled in amusement.

"Excuse me, do we pay you to stand around laughing with each other?" Harris stepped in. "Get back to work"." They scattered accordingly although Harris heard one of them remark under his breath.

"He's probably his uncle or something. Why else would he stick up for that old guy?"

This wasn't the first notion to pass around, and he couldn't fault them for it. After all, Bob was almost next to no good. He frequently brought the wrong files, didn't understand how to work the scanner or the printer, and forgot to write down important client appointments. Although Harris had refrained from asking much from him – considering their age gap – Mr. Littman had assigned Bob to bring him his morning coffee which Bob botched frequently by bringing him the wrong one.

The small positive he could gather was that Bob was at least trying, although he didn't see how far this could go. If it remained the same way he was likely to get the sack soon enough.

"Have a minute, son?" Bob entered.

"Sure, all fine?"

"Actually, there's something I think you might want to know."

"What is it?"

"Porter looks pretty down, I've noticed. I have a feeling he might be hiding something."

"You mean the Risk management supervisor seems suspect, is that what you're saying?" Harris asked skeptically, "I told you, Bob, you're not going to get his job."

"No, that's not what I meant. He might be sick or something."

"I'm sure if there's some problem he'll come out with it himself."

"Maybe I should ask him."

"No," said Harris quickly. "Leave him alone, Bob, you're not exactly in the good books of the office as it is. Keep a low profile."

"But..."

"Let it go," Harris said sternly. Bob nodded dejectedly in acknowledgment and bowed out of the room leaving Harris feeling guilty about it.

But he was trying to watch out for Bob, he thought, and he was pretty certain that Porter wasn't sick. He tried to busy himself with work but what with the confusion among files and his own thoughts swirling around, another headache materialized. He left the office to get something to eat thinking that might help calm him down.

The taxi skidded to a halt as it came to his realization he had stopped by The Corner Inn.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asked the driver.