A Nobodies Heart

Chapter Four: Nine to Five

''I don't like you.''

''Ah...what?'' I wasn’t sure whether I heard him right or not.

''What do you kids play your music too loud? Let me shout it for you…I SAID I DON’T LIKE YOU!''

 

And that ladies and gentlemen; is how our beautiful relationship begun.

So, now every time I arrive at work I am either greeted with:

''YOU'RE LATE!'' When I'm not.

Or

''I don't like you.''

Which will it be today? I wonder. Yesterday, it was ''I don't like you.'' adding a little bit of a hiss at the end (something different!).

''YOU'RE LATE!'' He roars.

''I have five minutes until I start...you stupid old bag.’’ I insult him on a regular basis.

''YOU'RE WRONG! You are 24.5 seconds late!''

Does it matter?

''Whatever! You change that clock every morning just so it gives you a reason to shout at me!'' I reply. He changed the subject because he knew I was right.

''You better sell something today, boy!'' he shakes his fist at me.

''I sell more things than you do in a month!'' I snap back.

Larry begins rambling to himself about how today's generation are so disrespectful towards the elderly.

I have been tempted many times to strap him down to a wheel-chair, wheel him to the retirement home and do a Harry Potter thing and just dump him on their door step leaving a small note in ridiculously neat hand writing saying:

''No returns''

Unfortunately, he is so brain-numbingly annoying that even the retirement home would reject him. Instead, they would roll him into the centre of town and just leave him there to rot. People will think he is a homeless old man, somehow feeling sorry for him and donate money to him. People would question: who could do this to a poor old delirious man, and the stupid bag would blame me and next thing you know…I’ve got an angry mob of people storming into my crappy apartment with pitch forks and torches.  

I would get sent to jail for some bogus non-existent crime and then the old bag would get the satisfaction of knowing he sent me to jail and ruined my life even more.

Just another good day at work…right?

Not.

 

Hours pass and all I have really done is just collect dust at the counter. Not a single customer all day. So, I do my favourite past time at work: stare at the clock and figure out how long until I am finishing.

 

I should know by now that staring at a clock doesn't make time go any faster...However it certainly beats actually doing my job. The mere thought of freedom being only one hour, thirty two minutes and four seconds away is what entertains me the most.

I try to convince myself that I love my job but let's face it...

No one likes their job...

No one likes to be taken away from their precious life and forced to work.

Sadly though, we have to work to survive.

I hate that.

I don't even know why I work here...what on earth possessed me to apply for a place called 'Doggie Heaven' which has quite possibly the most embarrassing and worst slogan in the history of business slogans...