Alison Tryst, a do-everything office superstar with a frustrating personal life, crosses paths with a new company hire at just the right time in..."Office Furniture" (1 of 13 stories found in the #UnacceptableBehavior set).
“Alison, did you get the email about the new accountants we’re having transferred in from the Indianapolis office?”
“No. Let me check my junk mail folder…” she replied. “No, I don’t see anything here either. When was it sent?” She replied looking up from her screen.
“I’ll take the blame for that, I should have checked with you sooner. I believe Danny sent it about three weeks ago. I just assumed he would have cc’d you. I’ll resend it, so you’ll have official record of it. But in short, we’re getting three new accountants from the Indy office to help with the backlog from that big marketing department audit.”
“Talk about a nightmare, how could I forget. What’s up?”
“Don’t kill me, but we’re getting two of them up here. They’re going to share the big office in the corner. But those desks are well…”
“Say no more Christine. I’ll put a rush order in to our company distributor. If they’re the same make and color as the rest of the department, we should be able to get them in about three days.”
“And that’s why you’re never allowed to leave this department Alison. We don’t want them arriving from corporate and being seated at those old relics. First impressions are everything. Thanks again lady.” She said as she walked back across the hall into her office.
Alison Tryst was the do-everything Finance Manager, in the Sales & Promotions Department at The Metronome Corp., North Region. A global telecommunications firm based out of Houston, TX. Thanks to reorganizations over the past two years, she had begrudgingly taken on more administrative duties. A decision made somewhat easier due to the relationship she had with her supervisor, Christine.
Looking back at her screen, the Unbreak My Heart, Toni Braxton look alike with the inviting gap tooth smile, minimized her in-house messenger system and opened a seventh tab on her Chrome browser. Pulling up the company’s account info on the Superior Office Pieces website, she began entering the necessary information just as a message popped up on her screen.
Mark Jackson: Ms. Tryst, have you had a chance to locate those missing data reports from last month?
Alison (that’s me): I did. Emailed them over last week.
Mark Jackson: No, you didn’t. I’m in my inbox now and don’t see anything.
Rolling her eyes, she pulls up the email from her sent folder and prepares to send it over again, when another notification pops up in the system.
Patricia Arthur: Alison, wyd?
Alison (that’s me): Running reports. Ordering some new desks and listening to Mark tell me what I didn’t do. Wassup?
Patricia Arthur: I can’t stand that big water head, hairy bastard.
Alison (that’s me): WAIT!!!
She typed in the reply and couldn’t keep from laughing out loud before she caught herself. Entering in the last of the necessary information for the desk order, she pushed submit. Forwarded the confirmation to Christine once it arrived, and closed the tab.
Alison (that’s me): you are a damn fool. I’m going to mess around and get fired fooling with you.
Patricia Arthur: oh whatever. You could change a shitty baby’s diaper on Christine’s forehead and she wouldn’t say anything.
Alison (that’s me): LMAO! Good bye Tricia. I can’t deal with you right now.
Minimizing that window, Alison resent the email to Mark and replied to his message window with the date and time the information was sent originally. As he continued to refute her claim, there was a pause of about two minutes that caused her to assume he was looking at the attachments that she had resent.
Mark Jackson: Thank you for these Alison.
I’m sure I’m being called all kinds of bitches right now, she thought to herself. Good thing I don’t care.
Responding to new emails that were making their way in, she continued moving numbers all over the screen, as she went back to reaffirming why she’s widely considered the most irreplaceable employee in the company.
As she continued to work, her vibrating cellphone pulled her attention away from the screen. After seeing who it was, she pushed ignore on the call, opting not to speak to her almost sister-in-law. The woman who no doubt, was griping about something stupid as usual. Less than thirty seconds later her office line began ringing.
“Good afternoon. The Metronome Corp., North Region. Alison speaking, how may I assist you?”
“Baby, it’s me.”
“Samuel?” she asked incredulously, while looking over at the caller ID. “Why are you calling me from Cece’s house?”
“You wouldn’t take my calls any other way. Never mind that though…”
As she sat on the phone shaking her head and looking down at the desk, the elevator door at the end of the hall opened. Occupied by her ex’s nonsense, she was left completely oblivious to the individual who stepped off and was heading in her direction. The visitor stopped short of introducing himself once he saw she was on the phone.
Sighing heavily at the latest empty claim, Alison began to tap on her forehead on what felt like the beginnings of a migraine. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally noticed the presence of the man standing on the other side of the wall in front of her desk. Both surprised and embarrassed, she mouthed SORRY. Which was met with a friendly grin from the unfamiliar face.
“Ummm, Mr. Falls, can I call you back?” She hung up without a single fuck in the world to give to his opinion on the question. Curiosity had fully gotten the best of her.
“Ms.…Tryst?” he asked, reading her name off a granite business card holder. “I’m here to see Ms. Ngozi. She said you all had some furniture that needed to be moved.”
“Ummm yes, just a second.” Calling Christine to distract the sudden tingling sensation massaging her inner thighs, became a welcomed idea. Looking at the nametag sewn into the man’s shirt, “yes Christine, there’s a Mr. Keith here to see you about the furniture you needed moved. Yes. Sure, no problem.”
Hanging up the phone she looked over at the young man and relayed the message from her boss that she would be right out. He nodded and sat down on the leather bench in the receiving area. Leaving her pulse to quicken, her mind racing, and her posture to become oddly straightened, in peace. On the other side of the wall. Where no one could see how hard of a time she was having, coping with the lust this specimen of a man had drawn out of her. She looked over at her screen and maximized Patricia’s messenger window.
Alison (that’s me): what happened to Butch?
Patricia Arthur: I don’t know. Ate his self to death. Why?
Alison (that’s me): there’s a guy that just came up here from maintenance that’s looking at these old desks we need moved. Let’s just say he does NOT look like Butch.
Patricia Arthur: I’m on the way.
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