Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Okay. Remember, go home at five. And I’m told you can download this Tinder app and use it for free on your phone.”
“Yeah. I know”
“Promise me.”
“Promise you what? To go home at five or get on Tinder?” I ask.
“Both,” she says.
“I’ll go home at five.”
“Okay. Good enough for me. Promise?”
“I promise,” I say, feeling like I’m six again.
“Love you,” she says.
“Love you, too.”
“Mr. Wright.” Magda, my secretary, knocks on the door.
No matter how many times I tell her to just call me Adam, she never does. I’ve given up now; she can call me whatever she wants.
“Yes, Magda.”
The door swings open, revealing a woman in her sixties with her dark hair pulled back into a taut, severe ponytail. “Your mother just called to remind you that it’s already five in the afternoon.”
I glance at my watch. Huh, look at that. I’ve been so busy I haven’t checked the time at all. I guess that’s how I always end up working so late.
“Thank you, Magda.” I nod at her, then I turn my attention back to my computer screen.
Halfway through reading an important email, I realize Magda’s still standing in my doorway. I give her a quizzical look.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wright. I was instructed to insist that you go home,” she says. “Before you say anything, I know this is not my place, but you know I won’t lie. God’s always watching, Mr. Wright.
“If you tell me to leave, I will. But if you stay anyway, and your mother calls me tomorrow to ask, I’ll have to tell her the truth. I can ignore her calls, of course, but then she’d know that I’m avoiding her, and then she’d know the truth.
“Besides, I really think you should go home. It’s not healthy for you to always be sitting there at your desk. You should go out, meet some friends, maybe even a girlfriend.” Magda smiles an innocent smile that I can’t be angry at.
Oh, Magda. So sweet and yet so long-winded. What am I going to do with you?
“Remind me why I hired you again,” I say, rubbing my temple.
What came over the HR department, that they hired the only secretary in America who won’t lie for her boss?
But then again, I’ve been keeping her on my staff for four years even though I already know this particular flaw of hers, so I guess it’s my fault, too.
“Because I’m good at my job.” She smiles. “Now, do you want me to leave you alone?”
I’ve got to admit, Magda’s the best secretary I’ve ever had—and that’s saying something, considering she also won’t tell callers I’m not in my office when I actually am.
She just tells them the truth and somehow they accept it without complaints. Her polite and no-nonsense attitude just works on people.
“No, actually. Could you just wait there for a while? I’ll finish replying to this email, and then I’ll drive you home. How does that sound?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s very nice of you, Mr. Wright, but you don’t have to do that.”
“You’re not taking the bus tonight,” I insist. “Not with the way it’s raining outside.”
Magda looks past my shoulder, beyond the wall of glass panels behind me. Normally, I can see the city skyline clearly. Right now, the sky’s angry and dark as it pelts fat bullets of rain on the building.
“Let me drive you home,” I repeat.
“Okay, Mr. Wright, if you insist. Thank you very much.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wright,” Magda says for the forty-seventh time before she nods and opens the passenger door.
I briefly hear the sound of rain pounding the ground until Magda shuts the door again. I give her a quick wave and drive away.
As my car glides down city streets, my mind wanders to my work.
I was planning on finalizing the material for next week’s presentation tonight, but that’ll have to wait until tomorrow now, unless I download the files from the cloud and continue working on it on my laptop at home.
But Jesus, I’m not some teenager sneaking around doing something illicit behind my mom’s back.
I’m an adult, and I’m well aware that I’ve been working too much. And when I’m not working, I’m thinking about working. I don’t have to ask a doctor to know that’s not healthy.
This is a big city and I have money. There has to be something I can do . . .
Should I go to the . . . Uh, probably not. If I go there, I’ll only be replacing one unhealthy obsession with another one.
Should I call someone up, maybe?
I’ve been so busy with work that I don’t have time to maintain real friendships. I meet people at work, of course, but that’s just business. I only see those people because I have to. They’re completely replaceable.
Except maybe Magda. I don’t know. She’s grown on me.
An armchair psychologist would probably say it’s because I spent most of my childhood with my mom, so now having a mother figure at work comforts me, but that’s not it. It’s probably just because she’s the person I see the most.