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| Wikimedia, Boucher |
Only a Work Friend
On day three of the job, I ducked under merry streamers
and a cardboard letter H, hung in a doorway from a party
and found myself in a cramped office, papers stacked,
four desks full, three computers, and a scanner.
The space reeked of ozone from recent print jobs,
of petri dishes we could see from the neighboring office,
of the sterilized hospital clinic down the hall.
One door down, I saw a better office
but an architect had filled it with chemistry hoods
as if to allow for industrial production.
She strolled into the room behind me with a smile.
It was her job to to give me information
but she said, “I only know so much.”
On day twenty-one, we sat
heads in our hands over network diagrams
and yard-long blueprints.
The office boasted scents of coffee,
warm roasted and dark.
This time, I asked about the streamers in the doorway.
She waved her hand in silent response.
Right, not important.
On day four hundred twelve
I came with a team.
The three of us swapped out the computers
while she wrung her hands
but when we replaced her fat, heavy monitors
with thin screens, twice the width,
she clapped and said, "Oh, fancy!"
Our team members laughed.
The youngest shook his head and blushed.
On day five hundred seventy two,
she and I together crept around plastic sheeting,
duct tape above, more tape creating doors.
We had to shout over the sound of an air compressor.
Her office had been re-designed by someone
to keep the dust inside.
“How long has it been like this?” I asked.
“Half a year now." Her hands rubbed, finger over finger,
betraying her annoyance. "They’re taking out the asbestos.”
“But you have to work here.”
She chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know what to tell ya.
They don’t know where to put me.”
On day eight hundred twelve, we watched a different crew
As they carted away a heavy, oak desk.
At my call, our guys trundled in with a cart
newer pieces of furniture on top.
We brought plastic and laminate stuff
instead of solid wood
but we could plug her desks in.
We showed her the lift buttons.
“It goes up and down!" She clapped and laughed.
"This is so amazing!”
Day one thousand one hundred seventeen,
sitting down with blueprints again,
we got a visit from a younger lady.
"I want you to meet my new assistant," she said.
She stood up and gave the thinner woman a hug.
She sat down and squeezed my hand
with some sort of hint I couldn't comprehend.
A few minutes later, she excused herself
and I asked the assistant how she liked it.
The young lady sighed.
She said, "I’ve never had such a nice job.
I love working with her.”
Day one thousand nine hundred one,
I put my hands on my hips and gazed around me.
"This place is so big now."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
She bustled in with a chuckle and an assistant behind.
"I hear you fixed it all again."
"Well, I tried."
"You want some coffee?" She ran to the pot,
a brick red one, warm and full,
but her young lady took it from her
and started to pour for everyone.
There were a dozen cups hanging from hooks.
We sat and talked for a few minutes.
I mentioned the latest renovations
and she waved her coffee.
“I don’t know what to tell ya.
Things are going okay I guess but who knows how.”
On day three thousand twenty-seven
she called to apologize.
She had to push our meeting back by a week.
All good, I replied.
"We're always good," she said.
I agreed, "We are."
On day three thousand thirty one,
just an email, a note in the list of messages,
one of so many,
swearing she did really want to meet.
'Honestly, sweetie, you’re the best.'
But she had to put it off again
really, this time.
No choice.
On day three thousand forty-four
I strode in on our assigned day and time,
unchecked, unannounced.
The office air was cool.
In the distant lab spaces, I heard people walking,
and the clink of distant glassware.
In strode her assistant. I plopped into a seat.
"Where is she?" I called. "Let's get to work."
The young lady stood for a moment,
a look of confusion on her face,
and then she raised her hands
and broke down crying.
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