The Promotion – part 3

English: Female Jogger on Coleman Avenue in Mo...I read somewhere that jogging is a great way to solve problems. Well, let’s see if that works. Lots of traffic—Monday morning is always worse. After a weekend lots of people wake up late.

Wonder if Betty will show up. Five-day weekend. Hah! Three months as a supervisor and she sneaks out like that. Where does she get off doing that? Do I tell George? First thing—you bet! Problem solved.

Cool morning for August. Great jogging weather. Now for a tall glass of o. j. to keep me going. No cinnamon roll—Gotta lose weight.

7:05 AM, George was back. Already in his office—early as usual. “Is the coffee on?” Eve asked. Sandy turned from her receptionist desk pointing to the cafeteria as her other hand picked up the phone. The room bustled with fellow employees and department supervisors as each grabbed a quick coffee before going to their stations. The table was laden with pastries! “What prompted this terrific offering of calories this morning?” Eve laughed. No one responded as they picked through doughnuts, and turnovers. “Aw-w-w, dang, I promised—no cinnamon roll this morning.”

“Ain’t any cinnamon roll here, Eve. So go for it,” Jeff, the assistant manager, grinned as he bit into his powdered, jelly doughnut.

“No. That’s not the point. I promised myself to stay away from… . Well, actually, I meant ‘cinnamon roll’ to be any kind of pastry. You know what I mean?”

Jeff chuckled, “I understand. But c’mon. It’s free! Enjoy! Make you feel guilty as hell, but then you’ll be in good company. George bought ’em. Got to please the boss. Right?”

2006-06-27 - VeganDonuts-0002“Speaking of George, have you talked to him lately?” Eve said.

“Yeah. A few minutes ago. Why?” Jeff licked the jelly from his fingers as he eyed the remaining pastries.

“Oh, just wondered. He mention anything about—Betty?”

“Your new supervisor? Nope. How she doing? She sure looks happy these days. You know, she was the cr… .” Jeff leaned over and whispered, “Uh, don’t repeat this, but she was one bitch of a crabby gal when she worked in the plant. Never happy—about anything. But that seems to have changed since she got that job. How in hell did she become your supervisor? But as long as she’s happy… . Even the way she is, I like her—some looker for her age, the way she walks and talks to us guys—well, I mean, the way she, uh… . Well, it ain’t important, but she sure is something, ain’t she?”

“She sure is.” Can’t believe it! Jeff! Falling for Betty?

The crowd dispersed and very few pastries remained. Eve found a seat at the table—an effort to dismiss Jeff. She inattentively picked up a glazed pastry.

I don’t want to hear about Betty’s charm. What am I doing? A turnover! Blueberry. I can’t put it back. Not sanitary. Well, maybe I’ll eat it instead of lunch. She placed it in a napkin and caught Jeff’s smile as she walked out, “You’re in good company!” Eve nodded without a smile and retreated to her desk.

She turned to the window as a car sped through the parking lot. Betty’s new car. Purchased two days after her promotion. “Got to look the part,” she had said and insisted on showing Eve her “new toy” at lunch time.

My car, old “bondo-buggy”, serves me well and I’ve been here five years. Just how much is she being paid? No matter, I gotta talk to George—later.

High-Heels - Made in Italy

High-Heels – Made in Italy (Photo credit: Fashion Unlimited)

Betty burst into the office with one minute to spare. “Hi, Eve. Got that quarterly report for me? Hope there’s coffee out there! Got to get my caffeine fix! I’ll be back!” She scampered across the hall in six inch heels, and a new suit accompanied by a see-through blouse with a delicate, lacy bra peeking through, emphasizing her cleavage.

Jeff stepped out of the cafeteria as Betty brushed past him. He dropped his sugared crueller and spattered his coffee on his white shirt. “Damn it Betty, look what you gone make me d… ,” he fell silent. Standing in the doorway, he watched her in the cafeteria then barely moved aside as she ambled through the doorway. Betty reached down, picked up his crueller, then slowly pressed a napkin on his stained shirt. He grinned as he took both crueller and napkin from her hand and dabbed at the coffee stain himself. She leaned toward him, just a little, took a bite of his crueller, winked and slowly walked across the hallway back to her desk.  Jeff watched and dabbed, “Have a good day, Betty, don’t spill your coffee on your new blouse. If you do, I’ll be obliged to dab it off for you,” he chuckled.

I see what you mean, Jeff. ‘She sure is something, ain’t she?’ Eve shook her head.

“Got that report ready?” Betty practically sang.

“Uh. Yeah. Somewhat.”

“Oh. Well, that’s better ‘n nothing, I suppose. What you got?”

Eve handed over three days’ worth of printed data from New Jersey. “This is it.”

“Okay. What do I tell George? You got a written report?”

“No. You’ll have to do that yourself.”

“What? Nothing?”

“You got it. That’s your job, Betty. I got my job to do—they don’t pay overtime around here for doing someone else’s job.” Eve sat with her back to Betty and smiled at her calm frankness.

Shucks, I may not have to talk to George after all. That’s a relief. She’ll look like a fool with no quarterly report.

Betty quickly shut the door on her way to her desk.

What is she doing? Eve turned as Eve flipped through the report and began writing on a notepad. With eyebrows knotted, face flushed her hand trembled just so slightly as she lifted a cigarette to her lips. Just then, she caught Eve’s eye, “Eve, I’d like you to… .”

“Excuse me, Betty, I have a meeting to go to. I’ll be back later.” Eve pulled out three folders from her desk, quickly left the room and headed for the plant.

Don’t know what I’ll do there, but I want to get away. Two people can play this game, Betty.

A Glorius Morning for My G-man.

G-man also known as G

G-man was her name. My son named her.

“It’s a female. Why G-man?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just like it. But I call her ‘G’ for short. Can you take care of her  for me, mom?”

“Of course I will.”

So G stayed.

Several months later, G disappeared. I searched for two hours. She was just gone. Then I found a phone message waiting for me.

“Your cat was hit by a car. She is  at the vet’s. I told them to keep her alive until you returned.” It was Julie. My future sister-in-law. I called her for more information.

“I saw a white fluff on the road’s dividing line and thought is was a sweater or a bag. As I  got nearer, I realized it was a cat. When I stepped out, I recognized G. So I brought her to the vet’s.”

It was now after 5 PM and they were closed for the day. But I called the vet’s office anyway. The vet’s assistant let me in and escorted me to G’s cage.

She was blind, but she recognized my voice and crawled forward. She sat in her water dish but seemed unaware of it. She pleadingly meowed in the direction of my voice. Not only was she blind from the concussion, but her jaw drooped, her hind leg didn’t work right and I was sure her head ached. She was dirty, mostly with dried blood about her mouth. My heart ached to see her in such a state.

The assistant spoke with me about G’s fate. Because she was blind from a blow to the head and now had a broken jaw and an injury to her hind leg the recommendation was that she be ‘put under’.

“What’s the alternative?” I asked.

English: U.S. Fleet Activities Sasebo, Japan (...

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“Wire her jaw, and take her home in a week.”

“How much will that cost?”

“We’ll charge for the surgery, but  she can stay and be attended to for a week for free. Then you can bring her home. We can’t make any promises that she will see again.”

I agreed. And within a week, I brought G home in an open box.  Her tail wagged when I walked up to our house. She recognized its smells and was happy to return home.

My dog, ShiSha, was excited to see her buddy back home. But after a few sniffs, Shi Sha turned away and presented no further interest in G.

Once inside, I set up a little stage for G on the kitchen floor. A box set on its side placed on a small rug for G to sleep in with her warm, familiar blanket. To the right of the rug, I set a litter box and to the left, I set a water dish and wet food. G learned to stay in that small environment identified by the boundaries of the rug as she waited for me to come home from work. Upon arrival, I placed her in my lap, rocked her like a baby and sang songs of encouragement.

She still had blood stained fur under her chin. When she felt better I washed her fur to remove the stains from her chin down to her chest. Perhaps she could smell the dried blood. Being clean again, she began to regularly wash herself without my assistance.

One day I set G outside in the grass. She was curious and the smells enticed her to explore. I realized she still couldn’t see because I had to  rescue her from an imminent fall from a high retaining wall bordering the grass. ShiSha was not impressed and continued to ignore G.

Weeks later, as I readied for work in early morning. G walked into the bathroom and stopped in front of the long mirror behind the door. I observed from another mirror on the opposite wall. She seemed to watch me through her mirror’s reflection of me. I moved my hand. She followed its movement. She meowed.  I picked her up. ShiSha followed me as I brought the cat to the bedroom. I placed her on the bed. She recognized her old play-mate ShiSha looking at her with ears perked and tail wagging. G walked close to the  edge of the bed. The dog and I watched as the cat jumped off the bed!

G-man also known as G

I can see clearly meow.

“G can see, ShiSha!” The dog got very excited and jumped onto the cat. “No ShiSha, don’t hurt her.” ShiSha was happy to have her play-mate and buddy back. She also wanted to play with G—now. I calmed ShiSha who then followed G throughout the house. She didn’t bump into furniture and eventually jumped onto the couch. She lovingly grabbed ShiSha’s head as she accepted a juicy lick on the cheek from her buddy.

It was a glorious morning for all three of us!

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