Curiosity Killed the Receptionist PT 1

The first few months of my job as a receptionist were nothing like I imagined.  My mind was left to wander and in its wake it left me this story.  I posted each part on Facebook four years ago to an eager audience and got my first glimpse at what it felt to have others (outside of family) enjoying my work. 

Please forgive the typos and possible plot errors.  That is the downside of posting each part as its written.  It leaves little room for correction.  I do still hope to compile this all into a book one day, add on and even write part two eventually.  The comments on my last post demanded it.    :)

Hope you enjoy!

Everyday I sat.  Everyday I watched.  And everyday I had no idea what was going on.  The mail man came and went.  The Fed-Ex man too.  They all seemed normal, but… something still wasn’t quite right. 

            My job was simply to receive shipments.  I accomplished this through merely sitting behind a desk for hours out of the day.  Anyone only slightly less observant than me wouldn’t have found it anything less than completely normal.  For me and my sharp eyes though, I caught on only a few hours into my first day.

            An average day went something like this.  I used my key to unlock the doors at ten in the morning, never a moment past.   I would take a seat behind the desk and wait.  One by one, people came in, passing me on their way inside and through the door behind me, which required a code for entry.  A few sometimes smiled but most just walked on past.  At first I took it personally, their ignoring me.  Then I realized it must be because they had a lot on their mind going into work.  As the day went on, though, I couldn’t for the life of me think of what their work really was.  

The Stance

A woman is standing in line for something that she has desired but the longer she stands, the realization of how long her line is begins to drain her.  Look!  The line over there is shorter!  Does is matter that the line leads somewhere else?

A man selects a book to read and is quite involved, having read half of its contents already.  But wait!  There is a book that has a nicer cover, or that one which is shorter!  Should he set his book down to go for another when it seems that it may be more interesting?

But the woman remained in her line!  She’s not budging from her original desire.  Surely she must feel like her line is better than the others!  How dare she stay in one place?  Does she think less of us in our other lines or even disgust for those that move often?

Look!  The man kept his book!  But there are so many others to choose from, some that are easier to read, shorter, more colorful, inviting.  Could he really believe that his book is superior to all the others?  What arrogance! 

Or could it merely be that these individuals simply have their own stance?  Does the act of having an opinion that doesn’t engulf all others mean that the person is close minded?  Or does that make them firm in belief?

When has standing for something shifted to kicking others down?  

If I own one type of vehicle does it indicate that I abhor all others that aren’t mine?  No.  It simply means I prefer mine.  I may share satisfaction with my choice of transportation but does that suggest I wish for all other vehicles to cease?

I’m saddened at the present understanding that to hold a definitive, albeit unwavering, opinion is synonymous with narrow mindedness.  Is that not a stance as well?  When did the only acceptable opinion become one that is not really an opinion at all but a sponge that takes everything in, even the unwanted?

When one doesn’t stand for something, he shall fall for anything.  Why are we condemning those who stand firm?  Someday we may need them to pull us ashore when we’re lost in the waves and cannot find our footing.  And in the sea of constant change should we not respect those who manage to stand strong against the raging waves?  

Matchsticks

Your presence is no mystery

Though with My eyes I cannot see

I see your works like wind moves trees

The rush of rain, the roaring seas

You fall on me like rays of sun

You're everywhere for everyone

But then my hands become like ice

I've turned to things that won't suffice

I grab a match to warm a face

Dropping candles as I race

Towards the things that please me most

Silencing the Holy Ghost

I pass the Son for a matchstick

Turn from God for wax and wick

A moment they burn and then go out

Dark and cold, but what's that shout?

He's still there though I closed my eyes

The eternal truth that stamps out lies

The coldness I may feel some days

Are representing my own ways

He calls me back, the warmth returns

A little wiser, a lesson learned.

Prompt "So these were my friends."

"So these were my friends."  I showed her the faded photograph, our eyes resting on the image that was frozen in time.
     "They really meant a lot to you."
     It wasn't a question.  She could tell by our faces, the silent laughter erupting from the youthful smiles.  I couldn't answer.  The unexpected lump in my throat forced me to set the frame back on the mantle where until tonight it had rested unnoticed for so long.
     She lifted it gently, wiping the dust from the glass.  "Was that you?"  She pointed to the young man on the end, his demeanor of one with his whole life before him.
     I nodded, still unable to speak.  Maybe it would good those old souls hadn't the chance to see what had become of the boy beside them, to see the shadow of the man he'd become.
     "Can I have this?"
     Her words caught me and I think my sudden movement startled her as well.  But her smooth young hands were firm on the snapshot of my past.
     "Too many people don't know what true friendship looks like, Grandpa."
     I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, her head resting on my chest.
     She looked up.  "Some never get to see how much freedom really costs."

My Past

When looking back on days past spent

At times I’ll wonder where I went

What were my thoughts or actions to

Provoke those words I said in lieu

Of something nice I could have said

Kept my mouth shut, or smiled instead

Oh how I wish I could go back

Take all those things, that hurtful stack

And trade them in for something good

Something no one misunderstood

But then again if going back

Meant I could change all that I lack

I would not need a careful tongue

A happy face toward anyone

Maybe it’s good it can’t be changed

My history can’t be rearranged

Then I’ll work hard to get it right

Another Week

A regular who stops by the office once a week maybe came in today.  I asked him, as I always do, “How are you?”  Usually I get the typical response, “Doing good, you?”  Except today he answered, “Just trying to get through another week.”  This caused me to think, but not too hard at first, what it means to get through a week.  What are we hoping to get to?  Is it merely to the weekend?  My day drifted on, quite nicely, and then while gazing through a website I stumbled on a video.   Its purpose was to introduce strangers and make them friends.  I watched and couldn’t help but be overtaken by its simplicity.  How often do I rush through a day, just to get it done, and miss an opportunity to connect with someone?  I keep to myself, only talking when it’s convenient or necessary.  I am quite suddenly convicted that this is the wrong way to “get through a week”.  I have the gift of a day with so many minutes to share a smile, a laugh, an encouraging word and relate to someone who might not be expecting anything worthwhile.  That’s how I should “get through” a day, by getting through to someone. 

After all, what are friends, but strangers who got too close?

The House on the Right

(inspired by true events)
written January 2010

I’ll admit it was not the best idea. But with all great pranks, the consequences are not usually examined beforehand. It’s the thrill, the imagining of the look on the subject’s face that drives us to complete the task. Even when the situation begins to unravel, we march on, because, like I said, the consequences are a mere blip in our radar. 
     I can’t remember whose thought it was originally. I also cannot be sure who it was who decided the thought should be acted upon. These are trivial details in this story. The point is it was done. 
     The basketball game had ended, whether victoriously or not, we were in the mood to celebrate. I had some time to kill and so did my friends. It was in those moments of indecision that the prank was born. I had a car big enough so once everyone was piled in, we took off, leaving the school behind us. We didn’t actually know where our destination was so we called a friend for directions. 
     “He lives in my neighborhood, 4th house on the right after you turn,” Nate told us. He was excited about our plan. He’d left the same time Sam did, but to spend time with his family. Sam just wanted to go home. Sam was going to wish he’d stayed to hang out, or that was the plan. 
     I turned down the right street and we began counting houses. When we reached the third house, I heard Jamie say with a hint of doubt in his voice, “Umm, I think that’s his house. I’ve been there a few times and I coulda swore that was it.” 
     I stopped the car in front of the two houses. 
     “You think?” I asked Jamie. This was something we had to be sure about. 
     Jamie merely looked at me. 
     “Maybe we should ask Nate again, just to be sure.” 
     I called him up and he said, “Yes! I’m absolutely sure!” He spoke with such intense certainty, how could we doubt him? 
     Jamie shrugged. “Well, if he’s sure.” 
     The house next door, the 4th on the right, had large glass windows and a tall glass door. I took a breath and looked into the back seat. The girls, Allison and Carly, were putting the finishing touches on the love letter. We were going to leave it on Sam’s doorstep and then ding dong dash. It was the perfect plan. 
     I pulled the car up past the house and parked a few dozen feet away. It was within a cul-de-sac and where I was parked had no visibility of the house. Even more perfect. 
     I asked to see the letter. I wanted to make sure it had just the right amount hearts and “I love you”s. It was long and very odd. Details about Sam and the writer of the letter in English class spilled over the page. Stick figures envisioning their future together with little stick figure children danced in between the words describing her undying love. I laughed and started to hand it to Jamie. He just stared. 
     “You should take it up there,” he said to me. 
     My head spun around to where the house was beyond the bushes acting as a privacy fence. 
     “Okay,” I said, and opened the car door. 
     The wind picked up so I pulled my black hood over my head to keep warm and I zipped my jacket all the way up. 
     Allison poked her head out of the back see and said, “Here, take my smoothie cup. It still has a little bit left and it can hold the letter down.” 
     “Thanks!” I took it, shut the door and headed towards the house. 
     The lights were on and with the giant windows, I was almost afraid to be seen. I decided to run. I laid the paper down, set the cup on top and rang the doorbell. I wasted no time running back to the car. My long legs took me there quickly. I threw open the door and jumped inside. The girls were giggling in the back seat and Jamie and I were laughing quietly. 
     After a minute, Jamie said, “We should drive by to see if he got it.” 
     So I started the car and crawled around the corner. We all stopped laughing. It was still there. 
     “Did you ring the doorbell?” Carly asked. 
     I had, several times. We knew he was home, why hadn’t he answered? 
     “You should ring it some more,” Jamie nodded. The girls started snickering again. I drove the car around and parked back where we were before. I had taken two steps away from the car when a thought struck me. Wouldn’t it make more sense for one of the girls to ring the doorbell? If Sam saw her run away he would just assume she wrote the letter. He’d never met either of them. Smiling at my brilliant plan, I hopped back into the front seat and relayed my thoughts. The girls thought it was a great idea and decided to go together. Jamie and I settled in and waited. At this point, we still thought it was Sam’s house. 
     It wasn’t two minutes later that Carly and Allison were screaming and running at the car. They yanked open the door and threw themselves in. 
     “GO!” They screamed in unison. I didn’t even bother to ask. I put the car in gear and peeled out of the cul-de-sac. The girls were still yelling when we passed the house. Then I saw why. An old man was charging across the lawn we had so innocently believed was Sam’s. He was running towards the car, shaking his fists and screaming obscenities. In that moment I realized the reason old people are so slow. They begin saving all their energy for the one time they need it and then it comes all at once. That man was using ten years worth in those ten seconds. He reached the end of his lawn and turned back. 
Allison breathed loudly, “He’s turning around. We’re clear.” I took my foot off the gas and tapped the break. The last thing I needed was a ticket. 
     Then I realized a ticket was the least of my worries. Lights were flashing behind me. I glanced at the rearview mirror and saw the man speeding up behind me in his Cadillac, honking his horn incessantly. 
     Jamie yelled, “Floor it!” 
     And I did. 
     I silently prayed there were no cops around because the stop sign up ahead was not going to gets its wish. Luckily the intersection was wide and clear and I could see no cars coming. I took a left and gunned it. Silence was long gone as the girls continued to scream, Jamie yelled in my ear and the old man pounded his horn. I kept repeating in my head, “Never again, never again, never again.” How long would this man follow us? The roads were long and clear and he was not losing momentum. I took another hard left. It wouldn’t be long before we hit the main road and I began to wonder where we would end up. I looked at the gas meter. It read a quarter of a tank. What would happen when we ran out of gas? 
     “He’s not backing down. What happens when we have to stop?” Jamie asked wearily. 
     In either direction on the main road there were traffic lights. I decided to turn towards the one with the possibility for more witnesses. If we stopped and people were around, would the man still want to get out? The first light was turning yellow and I sped through, leaving the man caught at the red. I breathed easier, that is until I got stuck at the next light. My heart was pounding. Please, I thought, please let my light turn before his. My unblinking eyes were glued to the rear view mirror. The moment the green light flashed I slammed my foot down on the gas, just in time to see the old man coming up behind again.   There was one more light we had to get through and I hoped against all the stupid luck I possessed that it would be in my favor. 
     It was. I left the insane old man in the dust once more and took a right at the light. A Starbucks parking lot on the left was the most beautiful thing in the world. I pulled in. 
     The girls spilled out of the car while Jamie and I clumsily unbuckled our seatbelts. In five seconds we were all inside gasping for breath. 
     “Wow,” Carly said between breaths. “That was stupid.” 
     We all nodded, our eyes glued to the street through the window, praying the man wouldn’t find us there. 
     After a few minutes of peace, I decided I had better call Sam. 
     I dialed his number and it rang. Answering machine. I dialed again, nothing. This happened a dozen times before he finally picked up. 
     “What do you want?” He sounded groggy. 
     “Look,” I said, “We were trying to play a prank on you but we got the wrong house. You need to tell your neighbor that we’re just a bunch of dumb kids.” 
     Sam groaned. “I don’t even know that guy! I was trying to sleep.” 
     “But he was gonna kill us!” 
     “I don’t care. I’m going back to sleep.” He hung up. 
     Allison’s eyes got really wide. 
     “What’s wrong?” Jamie asked her. 
     “I just remembered we addressed the letter to Sam.” 
     It was then we realized that the crazy man with all the strength and frustration of ten years was probably going to kill Sam. Well, we did warn him. 
     After grabbing some coffee and reliving the nightmare that was our folly, we parted ways and went home. One would think following a night like that, we would be less inclined to pull more pranks. On the contrary, it only heightened our resolve to be sure that next time we pranked the right house.