Mind of His

3. Interest

"Don't forget to fax that application over to Richard," said Georgianne, my co-worker, as she picked up her bag from off her desk next to mine. "Got it," I said, finishing typing and email and hitting send before leaning back in my chair to stretch my arms over my head. "Who even faxes stuff anymore?" I asked to no one in particular.

"Apparently Richard," said Georgianne with a smirk. She picked up her Starbucks and patted my shoulder on her way out. "See ya. Don't work too hard."

"Thanks, see you tomorrow, Georgia," I said, returning my attention back to my computer. Just then the phone on the desk rang. "Hey, Fiona, I'm going to need you to stay a little longer to organize some of Richard's files in his office," said Mrs. Holt, the second in charge at the office, besides Richard Pelletier, my boss. "Would you mind?" I knew that wasn't really a question, so I just answered as cheerily as ever, "Not at all. Should I come get the papers now?"

"No, I'll drop them off by your desk so you can put them into folders there and then put them in his office," she said briskly. She always speaks so quickly that my brain has to scramble to keep up with her words. "And make sure that all his partnership transactions are kept together in one of the silver folders and keep the most important stuff most easily accessible."

"Got it," I said. "Okay thanks." Didn't know why I was thanking her.

She hung up without thanking me. I hoped I would get a raise. I often stayed overtime to work on stuff, sometimes for other people, which bothered me sometimes, but I needed to make money and pay off my college debts. Going to Columbia doesn't pay for itself, as my dad used to love to remind me. I sighed and picked up a couple papers and walked over to the fax machine. Hopefully I could get everything over with quickly and go get some better dinner tonight instead of microwaved ramen noodles.

As I waited for the fax machine to start whirring, I soon realized something was wrong. I groaned. "Hey Michael?" I called. "I think the fax machine isn't working again."

Typical office worker-looking Michael sighed and walked over to it. "Not again," he mumbled. "Who even faxes anything anymore?"

I smiled. "I said the same thing. I don't see why Richard has to be such a..." I left my thought unfinished, but Michael, who seemed a little more grumpy today than usual, finished, "Old school bastard?"

I chuckled. "Something like that."

I went back to my desk to finish a few other little jobs as I waited for him to fix the machine, which usually took a few bangs and mumbled curse words. I looked up as a giant cart was wheeled over beside my desk. It was Mrs. Holt's young assistant, Nathan, or as I liked to call him, Nervous Nathan. I had a feeling he had a crush on me, even though I was also led to believe he was gay. Not really sure.

He adjusted his glasses and smiled at me. "I know it looks daunting, but I know you can do it," he said, motioning to the piles and piles of papers on the cart. I smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"Wish I could stay around to help like last time, but I've got Mrs. Holt's iron fist today," he said, adjusting his collar and smiling sheepishly.

"Ah, don't worry about it," I said. "I'll get it done."

"Good luck," he said, with a little thumbs up, then trotted away. I surveyed the messy stacks of papers and folders and bit my lip. This was going to be a long night.

With one more bang, Michael called, "Fiona, it's fixed. For now."

"Thanks, Michael," I said heading back over and faxing the papers. Most of my co-workers were starting to leave now, making me further dread my monstrous stacks of chaos sitting patiently beside my desk. A couple of them said bye to me on the way out. My only real friends in the office are Georgia who sits in a desk beside me, and James, Ethan and Anna who were all college buddies. We sometimes all go out for drinks after work sometimes, and it kind of stings when they still go out without me when I stay behind to do more work. But this is the real world I guess.