Thursday, March 19, 2009

Shirley

Her name was Shirley, and from her corner of the office she reigned heavy over the goings-on. She permeated that corner, woman and space twinned. Until my permanent workspace was finished, I was placed next to hers, and from there I observed Shirley carefully.

She was as round as they come. Her head looked as though molded from a sphere, a we’re-in-the-army-now haircut showcasing every bump and curve, crown to nape. Her very generous, rounded girth was perpetually clad in double-knit, elastic-waist slacks and topped with a variety of colorful pocket t-shirts. She wore the kind of pointy-toed gym shoes that we wore as children to run around outside in after school, and the tightly-stretched bands at the tops of her white crew socks were always visible below the hems of her pant legs.

She was missing most of her teeth. She had one good one in front and there were possibly some near the back where they weren't quite visible, but her open mouth looked mostly like a black hole. She pitched from side to side when she walked, arising from her groaning chair on only the most urgent occasion. Fatness is fair game to many, and, though I have to admit that I was impressed by her circumference, it was certainly not nearly what made me hate the woman. What made me hate Shirley was her utter lack of even one spark of pleasantness.

There was nary a person of whom she approved. She bossed and cajoled, yelled and sneered. She was a long-timer at the company, one of those employees that an unobservant boss never saw fit to fire because she always got the job done. Had there been a human resources department, she may have been put on probation, but most likely she'd have found herself out on the streets. But on she stayed, for years and years, until she, from her corner, wielded a force that was powerful enough to ward away the faint-of-heart and cause even the strongest of us to make sure our journeys into her presence were completely warranted.

Finally, I found a new job and quit that one. I was much happier, Shirley-less.

3 comments:

wildmary said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
wildmary said...

You SURELY deserve better!

David said...

Maybe you should reach out to her on facebook and talk about the good times. Surely not!