Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back at your desk doing that thing that you do so as to earn that money that you need.
It is not that you dislike working for The Man, per se, for indeed your work is mostly not unpleasant, and the majorities of the peoples with whom you work are mostly somewhat not intolerable.
Yes, there are the exceptions, co-workers whom you believe need to be fired…out of the cannon…into the ocean, such as that officious and meddlesome woman in accounting, Harmony Voldemort, a.k.a. “She Who Must Not Be CC’d in Memos.”
It is strange, for although this dour woman, the mere “assistant clerk of accounting operations”, would appear to have no exalted title nor position, everyone in your office is deferential to her. Even your hard-charging, take-not-the-prisoners boss, Bob Gummidge, speaks to her in the most polite and civil tongue, occasionally even flirting with her(!), this despite the fact that she looks like the dyspeptic French bulldog, squat and jowly, with the half-lidded, vaguely mammalian eyes.
Of the course, this effort at forced civility always leaves Mr. Gummidge spent, you know this for the fact, because he locks himself in his office for the remainder of the day following one of Harmony’s visits.
Your own interactions with this bureaucratic gorgon have always been unpleasant: ranging from the simple elevator snubs, to brusquely offensive notes about picayune discrepancies on your expense reports, the wrangling over which can often delay the reimbursement for your business travel for the months and months.
And yet, throughout all of this, the actual source of this woman’s power remains mysterious.
“Oh, she’s in charge of something or other, expense accounts, I think,” says your best office pal, Julia.
“Yeah, but then why does Gummidge bow and scrape before her,” you reply, “I’ve been here nearly ten years, and as far as I can tell she’s never been promoted, she’s still in the same clerk’s job.”
“I heard that she was the one that got Jeff C. fired,” said Julia, referring to the cheerful and handsome young man who was briefly the best thing about going to the office. (Ahh, if only you had been twenty year younger, fifteen-pounds slimmer, and not married to Gary…but then, twenty years ago, Gary was not unlike Jeff C., all sunny and funny and young.)
“No way! Really? Why?”
“Sexual harassment,” interjects Deadpan Mike as he walks by your cubicle.
And you and Julia laugh and laugh at the idea! So ridiculous!
And then you both suddenly stop, as you realize that Harmony Voldemort has the very symmetrical features and the amazing bone structure underneath her middle-aged jowls, and as you both simultaneously recall those old rumors about the womanizing reputation of the ancient Old Man Jones, the Founder and CEO Emeritus, and how he supposedly had to give part of the company to some employee or other because of it.
Look! Gucci! Gucci!