Babe In the Woods

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I waited nervously outside of Mr Clavers office, pulling my tweed skirt down over my knees every time my fidgeting made it ride up. I've been a bookkeeper in his office for four months, ever since I finished my college classes for accounting. I wasn't so good yet as to earn a promotion so I could only guess I was in some sort of trouble. I wondered how I could already have gotten myself in trouble till I remembered how unprepared my 'education' actually left me. Honor rolls and Presidents lists didn't mean much in the work place, experience did. Something I was severely lacking.

"Please just don't fire me," I muttered to myself as I rubbed my neck under the collar of my white blouse.

I was startled by Mr Clavers opening his office door, the bamboo blinds rattling against the glass.

"Come on in Maybelle," he said to me brusquely.

I quickly stood and straightened my clothes before entering his office, closing the door behind me. Mr Monroe, my supervisor was there as well, reminding me a bit of Colonel Sanders in his white linen suit.

"Have a seat," Mr Clavers said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

The wooden chair squeaked as I sat down in it and awaited judgement. Mr Clavers was a military man, retired now. Instead of a military uniform, he wore a business uniform, which in his mind was a three piece pinstripe suit. Today it was charcoal gray with a red tie.

"Mr Monroe tells me you're having some trouble doing your work," he says as he sits behind his desk.

"Trouble?" I repeat, confused. "No, sir. No trouble."

"He says you keep bringing up errors that aren't really there, is that true?" Mr Clavers tries to clarify and interrogate simultaneously.

"I do bring up errors that I find, sir. Isn't that what you want? Accurate bookkeeping free from errors?" I answer him.

"You see sir," Mr Monroe whined. "She just doesn't get it. I've explained to her a thousand times that all the money is properly accounted for, she just doesn't understand."

"I do understand," I almost snapped. "The liabilities are understated but assets are not overstated by the same amount. There is money unaccounted for."

The two men share a look.

"Maybelle," Mr Clavers began softly, interlocking his fingers. "I know you're new here, you just finished college and have your student loans to repay. Couldn't you be the one taking the money and then trying to get some bonus for blowing the whistle?"

I was dumbfounded. My mouth fell open and I nearly floundered like a fish.

"Of course I'm not stealing! If I were, then shouldn't Mr Monroe have believed me when I said the books were wrong?"

"I've had my suspicions thus far," Mr Monroe said solemnly. "I had brought it up to Mr Clavers earlier and we were waiting to see if you'd stop on your own."

I was mortified, I couldn't believe this was happening to me.

"Sir, I haven't stolen a cent, I swear to you," I said with desperation disguised as conviction.

Again, they exchanged a look.

"I'll tell you what," Mr Clavers said, leaning forward like a car salesman making an offer.
"An army buddy of mine needs some help at the base. Why don't you go down there and work for him, and we'll see if the books work themselves out while you're gone."

My brows knit in confusion.
"Are- are you firing me?" I asked.

"No, not if you accept my offer. If we have this same problem while you're gone, we'll know it wasn't you. We'll get it squared away and you can come back to work here. Otherwise..."
He shrugged.

I didn't have a clue what to say to this.

"If you quit now it's as good as admitting you're guilty," Mr Monroe 'helpfully' pointed out.

Mr Clavers heartily nodded in agreement.

"Well I'm not guilty," I stated firmly.

Mr Clavers gave a smug smile.
"Alright, I'll let old Suggins know he's got that new kitchen hand. We'll call you tomorrow with the details. You won't have to come in to the office from now on."

I sat there staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time just trying to process whatever the heck just happened. He must've gotten impatient with my lack of understanding and waved a hand to shoo me out of the office.

Slowly I got up and made my way to door on shaky legs.

"Be sure to clean out your desk!" Mr Monroe called after me.

That's all it took for me to go from bewildered to boiling mad. I did clean out my desk, loudly. And I did leave, in a huff. I threw my stuff in the backseat and got in my car. After turning on the engine, I gripped the steering wheel and screamed.

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