So, here's a little clippit of something that was highly inspired, I truly chased for this baby :D.
Admittedly Secretarial work is probably not the best job for me; after all, my seriously short attention span and careless nature have to be taken into account. However, I enjoy it immensely as I get a desk and a charge/employer of my own and the power to control who gets to see him and who doesn’t. It’s incredibly satisfying, so satisfying in fact that it keeps me coming to work consistently and on time(ish) every morning.
I especially enjoy when work becomes slow and I can spend time chatting with Gracie who brings around the sandwich cart and Jules from accounting. Both of whom provide me with enough daily gossip to last me through my 8-5 pm shift, and in return I offer them my bitchy opinions and whatever treats I have stashed in my drawer that day.
Today, however, I don’t have any sweets or cakes.
“What the hell is this?” Gracie complains, thrusting a carrot stick between our equally unhappy faces.
I grimace and attempt to avoid her eyes, “too healthy?” ‘I knew it!’ “I got stuck in the vegetable aisle in Tescos and panicked; carrots were the only trustworthy items that I emerged with.” I grumble whilst nibbling one of the offending food stuffs with deep disgust and pondering the ‘anti-calorie’.
Do they exist?
If I eat enough will they balance out a slice of chocolate fudge cake?
Gracie snorts and pops one into her mouth, obnoxiously speaking around it as she crunches. “I just don’t understand, like, why you suddenly want to lose weight.” She swallows painfully and sighs in a manner that suggests that she is disappointed in me.
“I’m sure that the man -rude as he may have been, like- wasn’t actually making any reference to your weight. Besides, you boy, are one of the skinniest people that I know!” Gracie’s voice has a distinctly Cork accent from growing up in Ireland, it is an endless irritation for me to hear as working in Birmingham already exposes me on a daily basis to an accent that grates mightily upon my nerves.
“Can we, like, put sugar on these?” Gracie asks hopefully as she braves another carrot stick with the look of one charging head first into a pit of snakes. She has soft, curly brown hair, azure eyes and round cheeks with a dusting of freckles and this girlish look often contradicts with her irritable and sharp tongued nature.
She and I get on very well.
I tut at her and absently allow my pen to wander over a piece of paper that may or may not have been important.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn, lifting up my false glasses to admire my work.
A cat-bird on a stick.
“Abstract,” I mutter and Gracie glances at me without any real interest.
When Jake gave me the job I ran a mile with the title ‘Secretary’. I bought fake glasses, brushed up on my rumour-mill handling skills and splurged on all a manner of office supplies, most of which I have never had –and most likely will never have- any use for.
“So,” I say nonchalantly, catching Gracie’s attention. “I’ve joined a gym.” I wait for her to stop laughing before I can continue on. “I’ve met a guy.”
Gracie instantly perks up and the Carrot Stick Drama in forgiven and forgotten.
“Details?” She gasps and I smirk at her.
“Scruffy, toned, green eyed…” I sparsely supply, like a pimp drawing out the addiction of his crack whore.
Indeed this information is not enough to satisfy her. “Name?” Her hands a planted flat upon my desk and she faces me head on, expression lit up with eagerness.
“Harry,” I announce with an invisible flourish, there is no need to give his last name as it is irrelevant.
Gracie grins and winks at me, “ooh, he sounds delicious, mind sharing, like?”
I snort then throw my pen at her, “not likely you common hussy!” I grin, suddenly glad to know and have her in my life.That wil be all!
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