Desk Jockey Jam

Big Swinging Tricks

She was The Senior Analyst.  Which meant dancing in the tea room on her first day as The Senior Analyst was probably inappropriate.  But it was 7am and no one else was in yet, so Bree turned the jug on and had a little boogie, shaking her tail feather and shimmying her other assets while it boiled. 

This was her favourite part of the day.  The office was library quiet, emptied of the ego and testosterone that usually drove it, the competitive spirit that made it the most exciting and exhausting job she’d ever had.  When it was empty like this, she felt completely in control.  In thirty minutes, the peace would be shattered, as would her belief she knew what she was doing.  First to arrive would be the big boss, Bryan Petersen, grandson of the founder, and the smartest man in the room, any room.  He scared the heck out of her.  Fortunately senior analysts had very little to do with the big boss and she only had to worry about her smaller boss, Doug, and the other analysts in the equities research team.  That meant Anthony. 

She had to worry more about Anthony Gambese now that she was The Senior Analyst, because if pissed off had skin and could walk around, it was a tall, thick set, dark eyed, swarthy complexioned, sharp suit wearing, booming voiced, hunk of ridiculous, brooding man-boy of Italian origin.

She did a quick spin because it would be a cosmic joke if he was standing behind her.  All clear.  He rarely came in this early.  He tended to slog through the other end of the day.  Bree was turn the office lights on, Anthony was turn them off.  They knew this about each other because on occasion the pattern got messed up, he came in early, but rarely as early as she did or she worked late, but rarely as late as he did.

On the whole this was a useful thing.  It was easier to avoid Anthony when the entire team was in the office.  Not that he was a bad guy.  He was almost exactly the kind of guy she was attracted to, except he was a bit too intense, a bit too loud and confident.  Unless he was mad about something.  And then he was a lot too intense, incredibly loud and confident and scarily surly.  Plus he was different to the other guys.  He made working hard look easy. 

And Bree had long ago sworn off tall, dark and surly men to whom things came too easily.

They’d been doing the almost territorial morning-evening ownership thing since they were hired, both of them keen to get through the traineeship, the probationary period as analysts and make it to senior analysts without getting bounced out of the program.  Maybe a better word for what they were both like was determined.  Though in Bree’s case her doggedness was based on being shit scared of failing and in Anthony’s... Ah, she had no idea, what drove Anthony to work like he did.  He was the one everyone thought would get the senior analyst job.

She made a plunger full of coffee, filled her personal milk jug, grabbed a mug and danced her way to her workstation.  When she next lifted her head out of weekend market reports the office was beginning to wake. 

“So what happened at the track?” said Chris. 

Christine Matthews was the only other girl in the team of six, the only other girl in the whole office who wasn’t an admin assistant, and most definitely the only person of any sexual persuasion in the office who knew about Kitty Caruso and what she did on a flat track most weekends.

Being in a Roller Derby League team called The Big Swinging Tricks wasn’t the kind of thing an up and coming Senior Analyst at Petersens did.  An up and coming Senior Analyst at Petersens went to the art gallery or a foreign film on the weekend.  She didn’t belt around a track on wheels aggressively trying to knock people over.

“We smashed ‘em.”

Chris laughed.  She didn’t get Bree’s enthusiasm for roller derby but she was heartily amused by it.