TGIF

Chapter 5: Time and Time Again

"That was a quick chat," Mildred observed when I walked out. I took a mint to celebrate.

"He liked what he heard."

"He was telling me as he was looking over it before you came that it was stellar. I wish I had his brains for business," she said dreamily.

I was just deciding where to display my war trophy when Jordan and Abby came by again.

"Abby and I wanted to come by and congratulate you on your presentation. How did it go?" Jordan asked from the doorframe.

"It went great, though it was an awful quick session. He said he'd get back to me Monday. I'm feeling really optimistic. I gave this heroic speech about the 'fragrant harbor'—you told me that's what Hong Kong meant in Cantonese, Jordan, and he loved the metaphor!"

Abby looked at me disappointedly.

"So that's cool, Mike. How are you gonna celebrate?" Jordan asked.

"It's been a long week. I was going to head home and eat leftovers."

"That sounds fun. I just have my volunteer meeting tonight."

"Nobody asked," I saw Abby mouth. I think Jordan was too focused on admiring my whiskey bottle, or perhaps himself, to notice.

"I'm glad it went well," Abby said.

"All in a day's work. I'm just happy all this is over. The stress was getting to me."

"We'll leave you to your whiskey," Jordan said, and once he left, Abby left.

I left a bit earlier than I usually would on a day like this. On other days I'd spend some extra time spinning around in my chair replaying the failures of that day and imagining an alternate universe where I'd leave Mr. Robinson's room and come out to a red carpet stretching down the hallway and a garland of flowers around my neck. I had spent so long imagining failure that I didn't know what success felt like, and if it was supposed to have a faint stink of what had come before.

When I left, I ran into Heather, who was just leaving then.

"Hey Mike, I just saw your email, and I'll get to it Monday," she said hurriedly.

"No rush. Have a good afternoon, good evening, and good night! TGIF!"

"What's got you so cheerful on a Friday night?"

"I'm happy to be going home." I gave a toothy grin so she knew I was telling the truth.

"Abby was asking me earlier if I wanted to go to Truman's tonight. Wanna come?"

"That's the bar where all the college students go, right?"

I had asked Jordan once about the place, since he was the youngest of all of us and consequently a subject matter expert. "I graduated college early to avoid college students," he scoffed, and I decided that if Truman's wasn't good enough for him, it wasn't good enough for me.

"Yeah... but Abby likes those sorts of places. Have a good weekend!

By then I'd had my fair share of busy Friday nights, and I was glad to have earned myself a bit of rest and relaxation before a weekend that was going to be similarly restful and relaxing. Mr. Robinson had said yes! Or something that I'd chosen to take as a yes. That optimism was celebration enough. My last thought before bed was that I'd earned a nightcap of whiskey, but I remembered I had left the bottle in my office.

I woke up to an article my dad sent me from one of those clickbaity websites—and I interrupted my usual train of thought to scream.

"Working nine to five, what a way to make a living," I muttered to myself as I threw on business clothes and my usual Friday fun socks. What a load of bullcrap that was. Eight to six was the modern worker's anthem, every day older and deeper in debt.