Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

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elbull
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Re: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby elbull » Thu Mar 18, 2010 12:49 pm

My boss, Derrick, a die hard fan of the Old West, has an annoying habit of holding his empty coffee mug by its ring as if it were a pistol, and pointing it at whomever he’s talking to. At the end of the conversation he spins the mug backward and slips it back into his imaginary holster. Usually he does this when building up to what he considers a world-class reaming. But in truth, I’ve sat through much worse.

For the third morning in a row I’m more than twenty-minutes late, and I’m positive Derrick's gunning for me.

In the cubicle next to mine, Tom, my co-worker and—as it were—my next-door-neighbor, isn’t at his desk, which is unusual. Tom’s extremely conscientious, and in the three years that I’ve been around he’s never once been late, or is yet to miss a day of work.

I avoid Derrick’s potent stare from across the room and slip inside my cubicle knowing I’m far from safe. As I predict, Derrick appears inside my prison cell. He plops down on the corner of my desk—another habit of his I loath—and looks down at me, daring me to explain my habitual tardiness.

My face squeezes into a tight frown and I hide my eyes behind my hand.

“Everything all right, Julia?” he asks with false concern.

I’m proficient enough at this game to know Derrick’s question is nothing more than a ploy; a segue to a stern reprimand.

“No,” I say, choking back tears. “No it’s not, Derrick, if you really want to know the truth.”

Derrick perks up, as he always does whenever he finds himself in the position to apply some cheesy communication skill he learned at one of our many mind-numbing company seminars.

I sniff behind a dry tissue. “It was terrible,” I blubber. “Just terrible.”

“What was, Julia?” Derrick asks, now showing genuine concern.

“The cops,” I say, needlessly blowing my nose. “They were everywhere.”

“What cops?” Derrick asks, shrugging at Connie, our office manager, who cautiously enters my cubicle after she hears my whimpers.

I sniff into my hanky the best I can and explain.

“Last night Tom invited me to his house for Happy Hour. I accepted not knowing I was the only one on the guest list,” I say with my eyes shifting from face to face. “And then he starts to act strangely.”

“How could you tell?” Mary, my co-worker from the adjoining cubicle asks over the half-wall.

“Good point,” Derrick mumbles.

“Okay, stranger than usual,” I clarify.

Everyone nods, and I continue.

“He plied me with vodka tonics; one right after the other. All the while leering at me from across his kitchen table. It was nerve-wracking,” I say, trying hard to look anxious.

Mary says, “I never trusted that Tom. He’s got evil eyes.”

“How’d you get away?” Connie asks.

“After a respectable amount of time I excused myself, and then I ran to my house next door and locked all the doors and windows.”

“And that’s why you’re twenty-minutes late?” Derrick asks skeptically, pointing his mug my way.

“No Derrick, that isn’t why I’m late,” I say testily. “This morning police cars were everywhere. All over my neighborhood, up in a helicopter, parked in front of my driveway, and two detectives were at my door.”

“Why?” Connie asks.

I look at them. “Tom. They’re looking for Tom.”

“Tom?” Derrick asks.

I vigorously nod my head. “The detectives asked me a lot of questions about Tom. They told me that last night an eyewitness saw him in a downtown ally with his hands around his latest victim’s neck. He positively identified Tom through a police photo lineup. And now every cop in the state is looking for him.”

“What do you mean ‘latest victim?’” Mary asks.

“Yes, latest victim. They suspect that for months Tom’s been preying on single women that he invites to his house for drinks. Then he strangles them and buries them inside shallow graves in his backyard.”

Mary gasps. “My God, you just never know.”

“Know what?” Tom asks, making his way inside my cubicle with an open box of doughnuts.

Everyone looks at him, and then at me.

I smile sheepishly.

“It was my turn to bring the doughnuts? Wasn’t it?” Tom asks, looking from face to face.

Derrick gets up, spinning his mug back into its holster and gives me a wink before heading for his office.

hobbyist
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Re: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby hobbyist » Thu Mar 18, 2010 4:30 pm

Disclaimer: This is a character talking, not me!

Oh, I was hoping not to bump into you! Sorry I’m late.--OK. The truth is I have been feeling so exhausted lately, I just can’t get out of bed in the morning.--Yes, I know you hate that, but I swear it’s not laziness. And I love my job; it’s not that I’m not motivated.--Well, thanks for asking. I’ll tell you why. It could have something to do with all the late nights I’ve been having with my new beau…if it’s not too early to call him that. I met him at the conference we had here, last weekend. He was due to go back to England two days ago, on Tuesday. And when I offered to show him some of the attractions of our fair city, he couldn’t refuse. I thought I was making our company look like a friendly and welcoming place. Little did I know, well, of course I did really, that I was the attraction, more than the actual attractions were. Do you catch my drift? I took him to the beach, and he looked at my bikini more than anything else! So we’ve been going out every night when I get home from work. A lot of it is at his expense, which does suit me nicely, I must say. But I admit, though it’s been fun, I’m finding it very hard to keep up with it all. I’m so tired. And now I’m getting worried—he cancelled his flight back home. He says he loves it here, and he’s extended his stay. It’s open ended. He doesn’t even know when he’s going back! What can I do? –True, but I feel I can’t confront him about it, he gives me the creeps. It was fun at first but how exactly how long is he planning to hang around for? That’s what I’m wondering. Yesterday I got to work a little bit late as well—I shouldn’t be telling you this really—and there’s a dozen red roses waiting for me at my desk. Did you see them? It freaked me out. I mean, I love roses, but not from him. Do you get me? This guy is starting to freak me out. He needs to go back home. To his wife. My God, what have I done? Please boss, you need to understand I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. I feel like I can tell you anything. You’re like a caring, understanding uncle. Mr uh… James—do you mind if I call you Jamie? Will you do me a huge favour? Come over tonight and pretend you’re my angry boyfriend.--Don’t worry about the age difference. You know what they say—forty is the new thirty! Anyway, that would be sure to get rid of him. Would you do that? I know it sounds crazy but it would mean the world to me. You could stay for a glass of wine. What’s your favourite? I’ll pick it up on the way home tonight.
And I promise I won’t be late for work anymore…unless you want to sleep in tomorrow, that is. I make a great breakfast in bed…

goddessarashi
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RE: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby goddessarashi » Sat Mar 20, 2010 4:07 am

Country Roads

John looked at his boss Mike who also looked back with a raised eyebrow, “Well I am waiting and this better be a good one. I detest you late night party types who do not get to your morning shifts on time.” He growled at John.

John swallowed and launched into his elaborate ‘I want you entertained so I will not get fired for being late story’.

“It all started with my drive in. I decided instead of going highway for I had time I was coming in the back way to work, country roads.” He sighed straightening his tie. “First thing I came across where these chickens they covered the road for about a half a mile. I stopped and got out of my car completely dismayed that there were that many chickens sunning themselves on the road. As I walked toward them they all flew or ran off to the sides, I was completely amused by all the different types of chickens that I was scaring off the road, I went back to my car and drove some more amused by the chickens and not paying attention to the time as I cruised the roads knowing I had left time to get here.” John paused dramatically as he went on, “the next thing that blocked my path, I was beginning to regret coming that way were cows.” He looked at his boss as he looked at his hands. “They had gotten out of their pasture and where standing in the way of my car in the middle and sides of the road. So I shooed them into their paddock. Then got into my car once more, driving down the road once more watching the road and all things that like to appear sudden on the side like those bloody chickens what I was not expecting to see was a horseman or a horsewomen that was some way in front of me. As I drove up I realized that the person I rode up on was a very naked woman riding bareback. She smiled and winked at me and I drove off the road into a ditch. That is how I ended up late today.”

Mike looked at his employee with a slight smile. “I am completely amused for I know you take the subway to work every day, we live in New York, John.” Mike shook his head and watched John look still a bit off balance. “Although the naked horse woman,” He thrummed his fingers. “Reminded me of my sister, she loves to do that and guys are forever driving off the road near our country home in northern New York.” Mike laughed as John looked completely deflated in front of him. “Get to work John you keep your position for now.”

John scurried off as his boss watched him disappeared into his office. “Now that was the best story ever.” He sat down in the chair and looked at his computer and read his email.

Reverend Never
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RE: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby Reverend Never » Sun Mar 21, 2010 3:01 pm

Ever forget to change the batteries of an alarm clock?

Well, I do. All the time. I don't know why I just don't get a new clock.

Working for a small business owner, Mrs. Grandie needs things ran smoothly. To that end, she's a little tough on people. Understandable, of course, but this means even honest mistakes can become major problems. Over sleeping included.

Especially, actually.

There is, however, one thing that's always redirected her fury, and that's a great story. I swear, this woman believes anything she's told, which is fine by me because I haven't the slightest qualm to lie. Besides, it's kind of fun making things up. She seems to enjoy it.

I pull into my parking space about half an hour late and begin thinking up whatever comes to mind. Cops? Robbers? Killer clowns?

My God, all the stories I've told this woman, what haven't I done?

Too bad for me, I haven't got the chance to think about it. The second I slam my car door, I hear Mrs. Grandie clear her throat.

Do you have any idea how frightening that is when you're in La-La Land, thinking up an excuse?

"So, Patrick, why are you so late? I hope it isn't because you've over slept. You got away with it once, which was once too many."

"Mrs. Grandie, of course I didn't over sleep. I learned my lesson the first time." That lesson, of course, was to never tell her the truth about sleeping in.

"Well then? What excuse could you possibly have?"

Great, now she's making me think on the spot.

"Well, Pat?"

"Okay, admittedly, maybe this isn't really an excuse, but here goes." I take a deep breath in and let it out slow, you know, make it look like I've got to calm down.

"When I first moved to Sussex, it seemed like a nice place. If there was any crime, it hid itself well, which is fine by me. But, let me tell you, Mrs. Grandie, hidden doesn't mean it won't leave you alone.

Last weekend, someone tried to break into my house. Thankfully, they ran off when I turned on the light. To make sure nothing like this ever happened again, I did something I read in an old manual. Nail some nails into your welcome mat.

Wouldn't you believe, last night, I hear someone yell from my front door, 'Ah, damn, my feet! Are those nails? I can't afford a tetanus shot.'

Of course, this actually makes me feel bad. I mean, the guy's stealing for a reason, right? So I got outside and see this kid I've seen around the streets, holding his feet. And, believe you me, it was the saddest thing I ever saw."

I pause for a moment to gauge Mrs. Grandie's eyes. She still looks like she's believe me, so I go on.

"The guy, he hasn't any shoes, and the socks he's wearing have holes everywhere, well, more now that he just stepped on my little trap. His clothes were tattered, too. To top it off, he's crying, just nonstop. I felt bad, so I did the only thing I could do. I took him to the hospital."

"Really, now, Pat? You took the man who tried to rob your house to the hospital? Aren't you just the kind-hearted man. And, let me guess, you two are now the bestest of friends?"

"Uh, yeah! That's right. How'd you guess?" Man, did she throw me off big time.

"Last month, you saved a kitten from a building that was about to be knocked down, barely escaped with both your lives."

"That's right. Max."

"The week before, you out ran your drunken neighbor because he thought you were to kill him."

"Well, you drink a few too many—"

"I've heard enough from you. I knew from the first time you lied. I've been letting you lie this entire time so I could collect enough stories. Know why?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."

"Any time you put in an application, and they call me, I can tell everyone your fantastic lies. You'll never work anywhere decent again. Goodbye, you're fired." She turned and began walking away before adding, "Why don't writing your little lies! You've certainly got enough stories!"

Ever forget to change the batteries of an alarm clock?

Ever since that little light bulb moment, I hadn't needed an alarm clock. The best perk of being a writer.

Reverend Never
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RE: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby Reverend Never » Sun Mar 21, 2010 3:01 pm

Ever forget to change the batteries of an alarm clock?

Well, I do. All the time. I don't know why I just don't get a new clock.

Working for a small business owner, Mrs. Grandie needs things ran smoothly. To that end, she's a little tough on people. Understandable, of course, but this means even honest mistakes can become major problems. Over sleeping included.

Especially, actually.

There is, however, one thing that's always redirected her fury, and that's a great story. I swear, this woman believes anything she's told, which is fine by me because I haven't the slightest qualm to lie. Besides, it's kind of fun making things up. She seems to enjoy it.

I pull into my parking space about half an hour late and begin thinking up whatever comes to mind. Cops? Robbers? Killer clowns?

My God, all the stories I've told this woman, what haven't I done?

Too bad for me, I haven't got the chance to think about it. The second I slam my car door, I hear Mrs. Grandie clear her throat.

Do you have any idea how frightening that is when you're in La-La Land, thinking up an excuse?

"So, Patrick, why are you so late? I hope it isn't because you've over slept. You got away with it once, which was once too many."

"Mrs. Grandie, of course I didn't over sleep. I learned my lesson the first time." That lesson, of course, was to never tell her the truth about sleeping in.

"Well then? What excuse could you possibly have?"

Great, now she's making me think on the spot.

"Well, Pat?"

"Okay, admittedly, maybe this isn't really an excuse, but here goes." I take a deep breath in and let it out slow, you know, make it look like I've got to calm down.

"When I first moved to Sussex, it seemed like a nice place. If there was any crime, it hid itself well, which is fine by me. But, let me tell you, Mrs. Grandie, hidden doesn't mean it won't leave you alone.

Last weekend, someone tried to break into my house. Thankfully, they ran off when I turned on the light. To make sure nothing like this ever happened again, I did something I read in an old manual. Nail some nails into your welcome mat.

Wouldn't you believe, last night, I hear someone yell from my front door, 'Ah, damn, my feet! Are those nails? I can't afford a tetanus shot.'

Of course, this actually makes me feel bad. I mean, the guy's stealing for a reason, right? So I got outside and see this kid I've seen around the streets, holding his feet. And, believe you me, it was the saddest thing I ever saw."

I pause for a moment to gauge Mrs. Grandie's eyes. She still looks like she's believe me, so I go on.

"The guy, he hasn't any shoes, and the socks he's wearing have holes everywhere, well, more now that he just stepped on my little trap. His clothes were tattered, too. To top it off, he's crying, just nonstop. I felt bad, so I did the only thing I could do. I took him to the hospital."

"Really, now, Pat? You took the man who tried to rob your house to the hospital? Aren't you just the kind-hearted man. And, let me guess, you two are now the bestest of friends?"

"Uh, yeah! That's right. How'd you guess?" Man, did she throw me off big time.

"Last month, you saved a kitten from a building that was about to be knocked down, barely escaped with both your lives."

"That's right. Max."

"The week before, you out ran your drunken neighbor because he thought you were to kill him."

"Well, you drink a few too many—"

"I've heard enough from you. I knew from the first time you lied. I've been letting you lie this entire time so I could collect enough stories. Know why?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."

"Any time you put in an application, and they call me, I can tell everyone your fantastic lies. You'll never work anywhere decent again. Goodbye, you're fired." She turned and began walking away before adding, "Why don't writing your little lies! You've certainly got enough stories!"

Ever forget to change the batteries of an alarm clock?

Ever since that little light bulb moment, I hadn't needed an alarm clock. The best perk of being a writer.

opaline
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Re: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby opaline » Tue Mar 23, 2010 5:41 pm

O-Oh, h-hello there, sir! How are you? N-No, no, sir, I did not oversleep. N-No, of course not, sir. In fact, I was just up and about at the right time--what was that, sir? Yes, sir, I got up at precisely six in this morning. W-Why am I late, sir? Why, sir, that is a most interesting story.

You see, sir, I woke up at precisely at six in the morning, and, like any other human beings, I was tired and decided to mull around for a while. A minute or two later, I managed to push myself off my bed and get started on my morning routine. HOWEVER, sir--

It seems that I had left my window open over night, so when I awoke this morning, I awoke to piles of newspapers--tossed everywhere in every shape and form on my white carpet. Of course, sir, you know me--I have issues with this type of thing. I set about to cleaning them up and made my way over to close the window. W-Where am I getting at, sir? Well--

As I piled all the newspapers into one corner to sort out later today and closed the window, I finally managed to get back to my morning routine. However, I noticed that I was a few minutes off schedule, and thus, I began to hurry. Things seem to be going against me this morning, for I nicked my chin. And, sir, you know me--

I absolutely am faint at the sight of blood. As I ran around, trying to tame the vicious flow of the thick, red liquid, I became light-headed and thus, made my way over to my bed where I lied down. When I was finally able to think once more, I noticed that the window was open--what was that, sir? Get to the point? But, sir, I am, or I will!

You see, sir, a flock of birds had flown right through the open window! Each bird was the size of my thumb, and each one could peck my eyes out. Thus, I ran around, once more, trying to lure the flock of birds into another room where I could lock it.

However, upon reaching my study, I discovered a small, red and white ball. Curious and frantic, I grabbed it and threw it at the flock of birds. The ball burst, bright light shone through and a creature came out!

Yes, sir, I am absolutely telling the truth, sir. A creature! It was the strangest animal I had ever seen, possibly not even a creature, but perhaps some genetically mutilated one. Bright yellow with red, circle cheeks, long, thin ears with a thick, black stripe; brown stripes on its yellow back, small paws and a long, zig-zag tail... this creature saved my life! I don't know how! I closed my eyes because of a bright light, heard a sizzling, and when I opened my eyes again, I found that the flock of birds had left my study.

Sir, the creature turned to look at me and I was afraid it would go for me next... So as I huddled in a corner and willed it to go away, I happened to chance a glance at the clock. When I saw how late it was, I immediately rushed out--regardless of that creature. To be honest, sir, it wasn't very fast. Perhaps it is still waiting for me back at my house...

Hmmm? What, sir? Well, yes, that is all, sir. What? Oh, t-thank you, sir... I won't...over sleep next time.

opaline
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Re: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby opaline » Tue Mar 23, 2010 5:41 pm

O-Oh, h-hello there, sir! How are you? N-No, no, sir, I did not oversleep. N-No, of course not, sir. In fact, I was just up and about at the right time--what was that, sir? Yes, sir, I got up at precisely six in this morning. W-Why am I late, sir? Why, sir, that is a most interesting story.

You see, sir, I woke up at precisely at six in the morning, and, like any other human beings, I was tired and decided to mull around for a while. A minute or two later, I managed to push myself off my bed and get started on my morning routine. HOWEVER, sir--

It seems that I had left my window open over night, so when I awoke this morning, I awoke to piles of newspapers--tossed everywhere in every shape and form on my white carpet. Of course, sir, you know me--I have issues with this type of thing. I set about to cleaning them up and made my way over to close the window. W-Where am I getting at, sir? Well--

As I piled all the newspapers into one corner to sort out later today and closed the window, I finally managed to get back to my morning routine. However, I noticed that I was a few minutes off schedule, and thus, I began to hurry. Things seem to be going against me this morning, for I nicked my chin. And, sir, you know me--

I absolutely am faint at the sight of blood. As I ran around, trying to tame the vicious flow of the thick, red liquid, I became light-headed and thus, made my way over to my bed where I lied down. When I was finally able to think once more, I noticed that the window was open--what was that, sir? Get to the point? But, sir, I am, or I will!

You see, sir, a flock of birds had flown right through the open window! Each bird was the size of my thumb, and each one could peck my eyes out. Thus, I ran around, once more, trying to lure the flock of birds into another room where I could lock it.

However, upon reaching my study, I discovered a small, red and white ball. Curious and frantic, I grabbed it and threw it at the flock of birds. The ball burst, bright light shone through and a creature came out!

Yes, sir, I am absolutely telling the truth, sir. A creature! It was the strangest animal I had ever seen, possibly not even a creature, but perhaps some genetically mutilated one. Bright yellow with red, circle cheeks, long, thin ears with a thick, black stripe; brown stripes on its yellow back, small paws and a long, zig-zag tail... this creature saved my life! I don't know how! I closed my eyes because of a bright light, heard a sizzling, and when I opened my eyes again, I found that the flock of birds had left my study.

Sir, the creature turned to look at me and I was afraid it would go for me next... So as I huddled in a corner and willed it to go away, I happened to chance a glance at the clock. When I saw how late it was, I immediately rushed out--regardless of that creature. To be honest, sir, it wasn't very fast. Perhaps it is still waiting for me back at my house...

Hmmm? What, sir? Well, yes, that is all, sir. What? Oh, t-thank you, sir... I won't...over sleep next time.

Take-Seven!
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RE: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby Take-Seven! » Wed Mar 24, 2010 9:12 am

You've seen my car boss. You'd think If there ever were an excuse that would have to be it. No, not hardly. Spiders! Yes, spiders have invaded my apartment! I'm not kidding! I woke this morning with plenty of time; even before the alarm went off. You know how you pretty much know where everything is as you sit up in bed and grab your robe slipping your feet into your slippers without even opening your eyes? Well, as I shuffled a crossed the bedroom floor I felt a spider web touching my ear. That opened my eyes alright. I cried out, WOE! Eyes now wide open man. I started to brush my self off as fast as I could: looking frantically for where that critter was. I didn't see him but before taking another step I looked up, only to find a heavily webbed spot just over my bedroom door with thousands of little baby spiders crawling in all directions. I took a horrified closer look at the big (the size of a silver dollar) shinny black body of the mother black widow. I knew I didn't have much time. Their spreading! I dove for my jacket on the back of the chair and fumbled to get at my cell and dialed 911. The lady on the other end asked me what the emergency was, so I told her as fast as I could talk. I didn't hear any response so I said, "hello, Hello!". I then heard a mans voice come on and angrily ask me, "what did you say that made my operator faint"! I then proceeded to tell him, when my eyes caught a glimpse of something moving down the wall by my headboard. I stopped my explanation and yelled, Help! Please hurry their coming down the wall and I'm trapped in my bedroom. He asked me, "do you have a show in your bedroom?" I said, "yea". Then get in it and turn it on a stay in there until we get there. Well dam boss that's why my hairs still wet.

Take-Seven!
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RE: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby Take-Seven! » Wed Mar 24, 2010 9:12 am

You've seen my car boss. You'd think If there ever were an excuse that would have to be it. No, not hardly. Spiders! Yes, spiders have invaded my apartment! I'm not kidding! I woke this morning with plenty of time; even before the alarm went off. You know how you pretty much know where everything is as you sit up in bed and grab your robe slipping your feet into your slippers without even opening your eyes? Well, as I shuffled a crossed the bedroom floor I felt a spider web touching my ear. That opened my eyes alright. I cried out, WOE! Eyes now wide open man. I started to brush my self off as fast as I could: looking frantically for where that critter was. I didn't see him but before taking another step I looked up, only to find a heavily webbed spot just over my bedroom door with thousands of little baby spiders crawling in all directions. I took a horrified closer look at the big (the size of a silver dollar) shinny black body of the mother black widow. I knew I didn't have much time. Their spreading! I dove for my jacket on the back of the chair and fumbled to get at my cell and dialed 911. The lady on the other end asked me what the emergency was, so I told her as fast as I could talk. I didn't hear any response so I said, "hello, Hello!". I then heard a mans voice come on and angrily ask me, "what did you say that made my operator faint"! I then proceeded to tell him, when my eyes caught a glimpse of something moving down the wall by my headboard. I stopped my explanation and yelled, Help! Please hurry their coming down the wall and I'm trapped in my bedroom. He asked me, "do you have a show in your bedroom?" I said, "yea". Then get in it and turn it on a stay in there until we get there. Well dam boss that's why my hairs still wet.

KRMBurns
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RE: Late-for-Work Excuse - 3/16

Postby KRMBurns » Mon Mar 29, 2010 2:35 pm

I walk into the office, checking corners, looking over the cubicles…hoping he’s no where to be found. But no; he is standing at my cubicle, whistling the theme song to “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” This is not good. I sit down in the chair in the cubicle that I’m hiding in. It must be Kim’s because it has her rubber stamp for depositing the checks. The black ink pad gives me an idea.

I smear the ink on my clothes to test it. Looks like dirt to me. I then smear more on my shirt and hands and gently tear a few corners. This is easier than making a pie! I take one of my shoes off and break the heel and begin my Oscar performance.

“Stupid cops!” I yell coming down the aisle of cubicles. The announcement makes people jump and look over their cubicle cages. My boss even jumps and slows his whistling to a dull, flat expiration of air. “Stupid cops. No brains among any of them.”

“What happened to you?” he asks, looking me up and down as I come down the aisle.

“I got chased. I got pulled from my car. I got thrown to the ground and then they realized they had the wrong person. That’s what I got this morning,” I said as I throw my broken shoe and purse on my chair. “And all I did was stop for a quick cup of coffee. I was even earlier enough this morning to get donuts!”

I grab a handful to Kleenex to wipe the ink off my arms, but it just smears more. I let out a gasp of disgust and press my lips together to suppress a cry that is actually a laugh. My boss is falling for it…hook, line, sinker and the boat! What a performance…maybe I should take up acting.

“Are you sure you can work today?” he asks in a quiet voice backing up as if I just announced that I have a contagious disease.

“I’ll manage. For the company. I’ll manage,” I say putting my hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh that is going to explode if I continue any longer.

My boss turns to walk towards his office, looking over his shoulder to make sure that the contagiousness of my imaginary disease has not caught him. Right before closing his door, he shakes his head and looks down.

I kind of feel guilty that I have made him upset, but figure it is better than getting reamed out or fired. I turn to find my co-worker, Kim, staring at me.

“That’s ink, not dirt and you don’t have scrapped up knees. Plus your skirt has not one mark on it,” she said point blank. I stared at her, not sure what to think or do. Was she going to turn me in? The sound of my phone ringing makes me jump, but the announcement of my bosses extension make my stomach cringe. I picked up the phone and tried to put my somber voice back in place.

“Yes, sir,” I said cautiously. All I could hear was laughter. In between fits, he requests me to his office. Here it is…I’m fired. I put the phone down, look over at Kim, who is now worried, and start the long walk to his office. I pause before gently knocking on the door. He tells me to come in. I enter and stand by the door. What is the point of sitting down?

“That is the best pile of muck, I have ever heard!!! You do know that I use to be cop, right?” he says with a smirk on his face. “Ten years in the highway patrol.”

My throat locks, I can’t swallow or breathe. I realize I am holding the door handle so hard that I’m surprised that I haven’t ripped it off. Somewhere, a voice echoes from my mouth.

“Yes, I had forgotten that,” I say trying to hide the quivering in my voice.

“Your story may have work, but as a former cop, I have to ask you a question,” he says leaning back in his chair. After a moment that feels like eternity, I find my voice again.

“What would that be?” I say trying to keep my performance going.

He grins and holds it before asking me his question. “Where’s the donuts?”

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