Author: Princess Jess
Published @ WordPress? Blog
Vignette/ Short Story (Shortz)
Date: Feb 2023
Pacing: •*Vacation speed (experimental label, we’ll see if I continue it)
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to specific real people or places are coincidental.
Hard work: short story/ Introvert + Train + Pet Peeves
Sitting at the train station, I pulled out a coloring book.
It was numbered and came with the exact colors needed.
I’d liked this picture, so I bought the whole book.
I didn’t like everything inside, but I judged the book by it’s cover. Good job advertisers. You got me.
Sighing, as I made sure the pencils were sharp, I began outlining the edges of each shape using the correct pencil.
The train was running late today . . . again. That was why I had to leave my house ridiculously early and buy a very early train ticket, because the one scheduled for just before work would never really have me arriving on time.
I clipped my coloring book to a clipboard and looped a string pouch to dangle from the top loop, so I wouldn’t loose my pencils to feet, train tracks, nor under vending machines.
Focusing on each stroke paralleling the limits of each shape with the #1 colors, I didn’t care about the train’s inconsistency, the smell from the trash bins or restrooms, the sweaty dirty humans of all ages, or the sticky gunky bench I had sat on, dirtying my nice coat. All I saw was the building of that perfect line, clean curves, and feeling the slight tremors as my colored pencil glided over the fresh smooth page. No stains, no wrinkles, no wonky shapes in my tool making it hard to aim or control like an old crayon, just clean, light, perfect beauty, according to a design.
When the call came to get on, I checked my watch. I’d be on time, despite the trains being an hour late.
I’d be irked, if I weren’t so used to submitting to the inevitable by now. Becoming accustomed to such an unreliable system had been a struggle. If a business promises to leave at a specific time, they should. Don’t name a train by time, adjust to what train is currently there and label when it leaves, like a plane in an airport, and apologize if there is an unavoidable error. Trains usually have limited directions to go, so it’s not as complicated as airports that have 360 degrees to turn plus elevation and go through great efforts to plan, record, and communicate. An airport may not be perfect, but for how complex it is, everything combined is much more efficient, because everyone is held to a higher standard.
Perhaps because it is worth so much and those paying well cause a fuss if those paid well underperform.
I used my card as directed and put the money saving tool into my purse again. Being a regular customer and getting a loyalty card for a constant discount after paying a bulk sum up front for the month, or in my case a year. One time payment charges less. Since I ride twice a day, my original cost becomes a better deal within a week.
Bored, as I review my mental criticisms in an almost numbing habit, as I take tiny steps to follow the slow crowd without running into anybody, I file in and pick a seat with a bar on one side and a handle like a leathery loop from the ceiling on the other.
Then, I began to color again.
I kept my eyes on my paper, ignoring everything around me, except to confirm there weren’t any creeps staring at me or showing signs of weapons. Not that I was an expert, but my parents read about muggings and robberies or murder on a train, from anywhere in the world and call me up to encourage me to use my saved up money to get a car or ride the bus.
They didn’t seem to understand how risk went up with more drivers in a less controlled environment, and the risk of injury and error was greater. A safer machine with minimal risks and factors to account for, plus faster and cheaper, not to mention more reliable than trying to find a parking space. No, better for my finances, my time, and my brain that didn’t want to think about useless things unless there was a real need. Trains, despite the negatives, were the best choice for distance travel in a big city. I checked the news regularly, just to be sure the trains weren’t down, but they hadn’t let me down, and I hadn’t gotten so much as a bruise from other people, just when I bashed my knee that one time because I tripped. Really, the worst problem was loosing my colored pencils and trying not to loose them in common situations of crowds, changing speeds, and not enough space for everyone to have bags, trays, and tables. Statistically, based on the number of people regularly using it, the number of times they use it, and other variables, even including mugging and hijacking, the probability of a cheap, introverted, average woman having more trouble than the random heckler was much smaller than almost any other transportation…
3 stops in, I had most of my pencils less sharp, but all of my pieces outlined, ready to color in. A dull pencil was better to color with anyways, which is why I did it this way.
I was just starting when a little girl bounced over with an overly fancy braid pulling her hair back, ready for kindergarten. She greeted me, by name, as I suppressed a groan. I could keep hoping the family would be sick, on vacation, get their own vehicle, or anything to give me a break, but that clearly wasn’t today.
Putting a smile on my face, as fake as a 3 dollar bill, I greeted her and her mother politely.
The girl immediately expressed interest in my coloring page, wanting to finish it.
I pulled my book from my clipboard and found one of my least favorite, tricked the little girl into being excited, and then had her happily taking away the ugly things she’d draw a princess on, scribble, or otherwise ruin it anyways.
The mother took a seat next to me, smiling, and said I was always so kind to her daughter.
I hid my annoyance, remembering the first time we met and how I told the little girl no, causing tears, and for the mother to give me a dirty look. The next time, I had tried to ignore the kid, but the threat of tears had me deciding just to let her do it once.
Her scratching roughly, outside the lines, and in the wrong places, with colors not coordinated for beauty had me cringing and hating every second.
I swear, I only looked away for 30 seconds, and I lost 3 more pages to whole body scribbles. Tips were broken, handles sticky, and my irritation was through the roof.
After that, I mentally thought the mom didn’t have to sit near me, should bring her own child something to do, and not expect so much from strangers minding their own business. But, with the currently successful strategy of discarding my unwanted ones like a shield for childish greed and disapproving motherly glares or snide whispers, I didn’t care that the book designer’s electric variety wasn’t wasted.
Today, the mother pulled out a half empty box of crayons, and the girl started to whine she wanted red and blue! Since she lost those ones previously the nervous mother tried to console and apologize, but it wasn’t there. When she turned to me with tears threatening, I had my hair swing over my face like I couldn’t see her, and kept coloring, even though my relaxing activity wasn’t erasing the currently growing tension from fear and anticipation. Here it came, again… loosing pencils mostly wasn’t my fault. I was tired of it. This tyrannical child, who most would see as beautiful or adorable and sweet, with big puppy dog eyes to beg and plead, was a source of annoyance, wariness, and discomfort until she shut up and ignored me.
She tapped on my knee, with a finger she likely had been picking her nose with or holding in her mouth moments ago, because I could feel the wetness, as she got my attention.
I thought, ‘Ew, ew, ew, ew, stop touching me, you nasty, selfish little snot goblin!’ What came out of my mouth instead was, “Hmm, what is it?”
“Can I-” she began.
I let her finish, barely listening, as I kept coloring.
She wanted to use the one I had. I’d just pulled it out, was nowhere near being done with it, and with me just starting this coloring book, that was most of the pages without the correct color, or worn down and broken, so maybe not enough later. I built up my will power, strength, making a decision before it was my turn to speak, and then recalled the mother’s words about always taking care of them. My determination started to crumble, as I imagined making it seem like I was heartless and didn’t understand or care. But, then I remembered his those crayons had been lost, one after the other over 2 weeks of school days and with 10 days and half a box of barely used crayons gone, I had a suspicion that she’d seen this coming and said this to make me feel guilty enough to be a pushover, again. I made a decision…
I tried to be gentle, as I thanked her for asking so politely, and then told her no.
The tears threatened, but I looked her in the eyes and suggested she try to find hers, because these were mine and I was using them right now.
Then, I braced for impact.
To my surprise, the mother did not give me a dirty look, and chose to coax the bawling girl to try.
She found the red, but not the blue.
A few nearby passed over things near their feet, to the suddenly grateful mother, who produced a ziplock baggy to put everything inside.
All I could think was how gross those things had to be, and relief that the crying had been short, with no one angry or disapproving of me, for not sharing my art tools with a little girl.
I got to my stop, and moved like I was in a hurry.
I walked out, and felt my tension fade.
I did it! I said no!
I had to get around the corner and sit out of view as my legs wobbled, now that I’d escaped and my adrenaline was wearing off.
It was just the start of the day, and I was already exhausted!
Breathing, drinking, and putting my belongings into various pockets, I calmed down and smiled to myself, before feeling like I needed a nap.
I pulled out my list of tasks for today, reviewed notes, and read my emails on my phone, as I started walking.
Time to be professional.
Outside, it was raining.
I put everything away, and tried to subtly shift my jacket and movement to rinse off anything likely gained from seats and casual brushes in the dirty public spaces.
Inside the office, I pulled a plastic cover and hanger for my nice coat, and then used my spare decorations to throw a decorative scarf around my neck, and then walked in as invisible as possible, by being an average professional working woman. None of my clothes were skin tight, nothing too short, revealing, nor sexy, and my make up was almost unnoticeable.
Clothes nice but plain in color and easy to match with other things in my closet.
I walked to my desk, returning greetings, but not offering any to those passing by, even if I knew their names or worked with them often. Instead of reaching out, being friendly, or networking, I was focused on my list, as I mentally reviewed, put them in order of importance, optimum time, and estimating effeciency, to put them in order of what to start first.
Printers would be used all morning, by others in a rush, hoping it didn’t jam, so unless I had an immediate need, I’d delay those to be when it wasn’t in use.
Anything near the entry, boss, or snack area would also be packed.
My cubicle was empty, mostly plain, and undecorated. Most thought I should personalize it, maybe with pictures or pet, family, or quotes.
No thanks.
They would either make a cluttered mess, lead to conversation starters I didn’t want, or give personal clues like in books similar to a Sherlock Holmes novel. Of course, it wasn’t always good people investigating or prying, and I’d rather avoid people as much as possible.
Instead, the only things on my desks were there when I was at work, after pulling them from my locked drawers. They were for tools I used for writing, stapling, and organizing. Mostly, I worked on a computer.
I typed in my very long password of multiple words with characters or punctuation between, and delved into the sensitive world of numbers and mathematics, using spreadsheets, tables, graphs, charts, and equations.
I did my timely reviews, monthly updates, and then scanned my device for trouble with the screen blackened, while walking away to do my printing just after the morning rush, but before lunch when the internet would be slowed down by everyone playing games during their break.
There was only one other person, but they printed a lot, delaying my time estimate.
I read more mail and shuffled my papers to do extra prep for the machine to organize and staple for me, since I had to wait anyways.
Almost ready to start, a guy rushed in, panicked, saying he had a lunch meeting, last minute, and needed them printed in 5 minutes.
I stepped to the side, as he rushed to throw his in first.
He babble, of thanks turned into an awkward conversation as he tried to fill the silence, like he didn’t want me to be bored. All it did was annoy me, as he asked personal questions, always having more to say, until my short polite answerability turned into shrugs, sounds instead of words, as I shifted from foot to foot. He thanked me again as he ran out, and I let out an unsteady breath, glad that was over.
I used the good settings, starting set after set, until walking out with nearly 5 boxes to check off, when it would’ve been 2, maybe 3, without the delay and using extra effort.
I rewrote my list, to add in the prep, to be in the right order, and then checked them off.
I was about to clock out for lunch when I was called into that last minute meeting, to discuss why the charts weren’t as good as expected.
Don’t blame me for other’s recorded work. That’s as bad as shooting the messenger. But, I knew when I took the job, my work might be questioned, with naive people thinking it was my job to make it look both nice and as hopeful as desired.
It was the worst part of the job, but I’d been practicing in the mirror.
Too bad they didn’t read off the same script.
I thought their comments would be tactful, or at least intelligent … like they knew how to do their job and read basics, not, “What is this garbage?”
As the sounds grew and words overlapped, I couldn’t hear anything.
Chaotic, noisy, and wasting everyone’s time.
Creating a structure in my mind, on how to teach these useless loudmouths, I bought time by stating the name and type of document, before asking them to clarify their question to be more specific about what kind of answer they were looking for.
They asked how the percentage could be down so much from their prediction.
With a strain on my heart, I said softly it was not my job to know their prediction, nor control anything about the business decisions and implementation. All I did was compile the numbers and figures to show what was happening. The question was not under my list of responsibilities, so to ask those responsible or change their question.
Internally, I was silently swearing, my shoulders were in knots, and my already tired mind and body wanted to eat and then take a nap.
I didn’t think that was going to happen though.
I was still borrowing things from math to create a PowerPoint, just in case.
After the feeling of an hour, to flush out my responsibilities, but the clock said it was only 5 minutes, they wanted me to explain why I chose this form of demonstration over another.
I pulled out my phone and showed the email from the one asking, it was what they requested.
I estimated which I would’ve normally used for this, but when the request was specific from my boss, I did as instructed.
Then, with my boss looking uncomfortable and annoyed, as I threw him under the bus, because I was not going to be blamed for doing my job, he requested I reprint this in a different style.
I used my phone, finished it in 3 minutes, and sent it to the printer, without being present.
I sent the guy from earlier, saying it was from the same printer as earlier.
He jumped up, nearly running, and was back very quickly.
They continued the meeting, looking much better, while I ate the free lunch, whatever was delicious but more expensive than I personally purchased. Free food was the least I could get, after being yelled at through a working lunch, for doing as my job expected and boss expected.
After lunch, I went back to work.
The PowerPoint hadn’t been needed, but I still wanted to finish it. Maybe I’d be brave enough to send it to my boss before the end of the day.
All sorts of people approached my desk after the meeting, with everything from comments and questions to requests.
Exhausting!
I just wanted to do my work, alone, and then go home…
People were hard work. The job was easy, if only there weren’t social, stupid, or selfish people causing me so much stress…
I had to talk to my boss, who tried to coax there were better ways of saying things.
Easy for a hypocrite to say, Mr. ‘What is this garbage?’ Blaming me for your incompetence… were you trying to get me fired? Maybe I should quit. I disliked job hunting, but an unreliable boss who blames others for their flaws was someone in the wrong job position. It made things inefficient. I should never have needed to go to that meeting, or this one for that matter. I didn’t care about his feelings, if he sucked at his job and was trying to spread the blame or make excuses.
Cowardice… not that I could throw stones in that regard, I barely managed to tell a six year old she couldn’t have my colored pencil. So, I kept my mouth shut and just let him rant…
I left, promising to get him a PowerPoint by tomorrow for him to go over, if he wasn’t going to ask for suggestions on how to best show the information for each type of data, especially for those done repetitively, like a theme and gathered together for comparison. He was just too new, power hungry, and trying to change things he didn’t understand. If you can’t do the job, don’t apply, just because the pay is good. Know your strengths, weaknesses, and what you need to learn before biting off more than you can chew!
Of course, this negative rant only existed inside of my head… no one would ever hear it from my lips.
The hard work finished, and I went back to my list and my now virus free computer.
I colored on the way home again, trying to ignore my sluggish body, as I ate my lunch for dinner, after using the staff microwave and paper towels to make the meal portable.
I arrived home, showered, plugged in my phone, checked my alarms, and got into bed. I turned on music, to listen to as I drifted off, to be done with the hard work in my empty, clean, and organized home, just the way I liked it.
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