The Difference Between Getting and Needing

s e v e n t e e n

i guess that sometimes
good things fall a p a r t . . .

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I was having the most atrocious Monday I think I've ever had in my life.

It was always a given that they were the worst day of the week. Unless I was on vacation or asleep the whole day, I couldn't recall a single good time I had on a Monday. This one, in particular, was like a living hell.

My Uber driver almost got into an accident on my way to work and we were sent through four different detours due to construction around a sinkhole in the middle of the city. We had a staff meeting right away in the morning that, of course, I was twenty minutes late to. The power in our building went out for nearly an hour, which was like a death sentence in itself because an hour of work lost at Donatella's was like being gone for a month, coming back, and having no clue where to start.

On top of this, it was pouring fucking rain. All day long.

I'd just gotten off a forty minute phone call with Donatella's credit card company, spending half of the time straining my ear to understand the mumbling on the other end and the other half debating on barging into Donatella's office so I could hurdle myself out her windows and end the madness.

My forehead hit the surface of my desk with an alarming thump, barely missing my keyboard by a few inches.

Nadia cleared her throat for my attention, but I didn't move. Instead, I heard her voice from across the room ask with genuine curiosity, "You okay over there?"

"That's debatable," I grumbled.

"I'm surprised there's still enough room in here for us with your negativity all over the place."

Her accurate retort and disapproving sigh made me pick my head up. I saw her already staring at me; one eyebrow raised, arms crossed, and a judgmental look on her face. It made me feel like I was the biggest disappointment of a person she'd ever seen.

That was probably true, though.

The sheepish flattening of my lips was all I had to offer. She threw her hands up as if she were done with my bullshit.

"Get your sorry ass up. It's time to leave," she announced, theatrically pushing her rolling chair back and standing up.

I didn't believe her, but when my eyes darted to the clock on my computer screen and I saw it was almost five o'clock, I jumped out of my seat. For two reasons.

One being the motivating mental image of downing a glass of wine the size of my head as soon as I got home. The second was Donatella emerging from her office with her eyes on me.

My stomach clenched at the impassive look on her face, while her bright red cashmere sweater reminded me that Christmas was next week and I still had some shopping to do for presents. I wasn't sure which stressed me out more.

"Bayla. A word?" She uttered. I knew she wasn't really asking, so much as telling me.

I inhaled shakily. "Okay."

She simply nodded. I did nothing. She backed away and the frosted glass doors shut.

When she was gone, I finally exhaled with an aggravated, "Fuck."

Her tone gave me no insight on why she wanted to speak with me. If I had to guess, it was either about my shitty attitude all day or my late arrival to the meeting this morning. Either way, I figured it wasn't going to be good. But what was one more thing added to the pile of shit that was becoming my life?