I cannot stand monotony in life. My life is screaming monotony as we speak. I sit in front of the computer all day and take people’s complaints. Do I do anything to fix the problem? No, I do not. I get paid for and I quote” to sit and listen.”
That is exactly what I do and have been doing for the past year. Honestly, I cannot take much more of this. I went to school to get a degree in IT. Ever since the layoffs I was reduced to being this. A human complaint boards.
I sat and looked at the screen and realized that I had taken over ten calls and it wasn’t even eleven yet.
“Hey, Darla how are you doing today?”
That question is coming from Stephon Grange. He has been here longer than I have, and I just realized that I will be him soon. No friends other than the ones I think I have at work. No social life. The last time I went out on a date is little over a year and let’s not talk about sex.
I’m at the point where I can’t even get myself off. This is too depressing to be my life.
“Hey, are you over there?”
“Oh, sorry Stephon I was listening to a client just now. What’s up?”
“I asked how you were today. I noticed that you have not been- yourself.”
I looked at the screen confused. What is he talking about?
“Listen I know that this job can take a lot out of someone. I personally went through a minor crisis myself. I realized that I had to go out and enjoy life. Whatever that enjoyment might be.”
“Look Stephon what is wrong with you? What makes you think that we are close enough that you can tell me to enjoy my life.”
There was a long stretch of silence between us and then he said, “ Your right we are not close, and I was trying to give you a friendly voice to get you through today at least.”
I knew I hurt his feelings but so what. This job is hurting my feelings.
“I don’t know if you noticed but there is a card on your desk labeled O.N.S.
On the back is an email. Maybe you should look into it.”
“Did you leave this on my desk?”
“No but I thing Jennifer in billing thought you might like to go.”
“The brunette with the pixie cut.”
Oh, the one who wore oversized sweaters and kept to herself. I looked at the card and it looked off. The letters O.N.S on the front and then the email on the back.
“What does the O.N.S. stand for?”
There was silence. I stood up and looked over into Stephon’s cubicle and realized that he was no longer there.
That’s what I get, I guess. I’ll apologize to him later.
The day could not have ended fast enough. I apologized to Stephon, but I can tell he really didn’t believe it and honestly, he’s right.
I clocked out exactly at five, signed off my computer, locked my drawers and grabbed my purse. I walked out as quickly as I could. I went straight to my 2017 Nissan two door car and climbed in.
After taking a few deep breaths I started the car and drove into the weekend rush.
I sat in traffic for over twenty minutes and the thought of the card popped back into my head. What made her think I would be interested in any place she would recommend? I don’t even know her.
I reached over and turned on the radio to kill the silence. An advertisement came on talking about experiencing new things and all it would take is to take that first step.
The card came back. What harm would it be to send an email and ask what the initials stood for. I smiled at the thought. It wouldn’t hurt and I can start putting out my resume for IT job while I am at it.
Once the decision was made, the traffic started to move.
I made it home in over an hour and I parked my car in the garage connected to my apartment. I rented a two-bedroom apartment in an old brown stone. The apartment was gutted and refurnished with all the new styles the apartments are going with.
An open floor plans. The kitchen is connected to the dining area, and it segues into the living room. I like it but it felt off. Like sometimes changing something does not make it better, it makes it different.
I went in and did my normal routine. Check the mail, hang my coat up and take my shoes off. I had beautiful hard wood floors and I refused to track the outside, inside.
After getting myself comfortable and settling in to watch my k- drama, the card came to mind again. It was starting to annoy me. What did the O.N.S. stand for and why was the card the void of information?
I grabbed my tablet and opened my email. I decided that I needed to ease my curiosity so I composed a very brief email.
To whom this may concern,
I have been given your card with the hopes that I would enjoy it. I am not sure what I would enjoy. I need that to be explained and before I end this email can you please let me know what the ONS stands for as well.
Before I lost my nerve, I sent it. I placed my tablet on the coffee table and stretched out on my sofa to enjoy another episode of the K-drama.
I must have dozed off when I heard a soft ding. That is the alert I receive when I have an incoming email.
I lifted the tablet and there was an email ready to be read. I sat up and yarned then I tapped it to open.
Well Hello D. Title,
If you have been given the card, then it is meant for your enjoyment. You have been chosen by someone to take part in my establishment. The O.N.S. is a highly private club. You can only gain admittance through a two-step process.
The first step is to receives the invitation. Which you have.
The second is to fill out a brief survey that you must answer truthfully.
We pride ourselves in fabulous customer service and have never received a complaint.
If you are interested in coming to the O.N.S. Click on the link and answer the questions.
To answer your inquiry about what the initials stood for it is One Night Stand.
Now I hope to see you there.
I read the email over again to make sure I understood what it was. This is a sleezy hook up spot. Why would Jennifer think I would enjoy myself? Do I look despite?
I tossed the tablet on the sofa, got up and went to bed. I decided I will talk to Jennifer tomorrow. I need to set her straight on office boundaries.
It was ten in the morning, and I waited for everyone to get their day started before confronting Jennifer.
I stood up with a file in my hand and walked over to where her desk was. I stood there and just stared. The only thing there was the computer, desk, and lamp. There was nothing of her.
I did not talk to her much but her area had a small plant and a small framed picture on her desk. I looked around to see if I could ask someone what was going on.
I decided I was going to ask mister social Stephon. I went to his desk and he was already entrenched in helping a customer with their complaint. He glanced up and asked the customer if they could hold for a brief moment.
“Hi, what’s up?”
“Where is Jennifer?”
“Oh, you didn’t read the memo this morning. She was promoted and transferred to our overseas office.”
I honestly did not know what my face looked like at this moment but it most made Stephon uneasy.
“I have to get back to work, sorry.”
I looked at him then turned away. Jennifer was promoted.
I opened the email and there it was. A picture showing her smiling and the two paragraph information that they give the staff on what is occurring.
How was she able to move up? She was to herself a lot and she didn’t do anything I would say to stand out.
The afternoon came and I answered a total of five calls. That is the minimum amount anyone is allowed before being called into the manager’s office.
“Hey, you seem out of it. I didn’t know that her promotion would have affected you that much.”
I jumped, not realizing he was next to me with a cup of coffee.
“It doesn’t. I needed to say something to her about the card she left and now she’s gone.”
“Oh, okay. Did you find out what it was?”
Was he in on this?”
“It looked cool. Very hush, hush.”
“So why didn’t you send an email to the place?”
He looked over his shoulder and again I must have struck a nerve.
“Listen I have been trying to a friend. AT least in the office. I do not go take information from someone without asking. Ever since you got here you have been keeping to yourself and you know I thought it was because you had to come here and lower your standards.
We all know where you used to work and kind of have an idea how much you made. So, I know this place is not exactly a great replacement but that doesn’t mean you have to act like you do.”
“Act like what. Tell me.”
“Like a total ass and if you want to be alone, then be alone. You’ll discover the little crack in the door I was trying to open for you has now slammed shut.”
He turned away and I sat there looking at him like he has been watching to many cryptic shows. “Crack in the door?”
I finished the rest of the day by helping five more people and signed up. I stood up and realized that I was in the office with two other people. The rest of the staff had left.
I noticed that a red dot was flashing on the side of the computer screen, and I clicked on it.
There was a notice sent out that there was an after hour office party. I looked at the time it was sent, It was sent at three and I did not notice. Who cares, I wouldn’t go anyway.
I left and managed to get home in minimal traffic. I did the usual routine and turned on the television to continue the show.
“This is pathetic. I have no life.” I heard what Stephon said to me earlier in my head reply.
“Was I isolating myself? I am a social person. I can have fun and try new things.”
I sat up and grabbed my tablet.
I click on the link that was sent on the O.N.S. email.
It led me to a site that held six doors. In every door I clicked on there were questions that made me squirm in my seat.
They were so personal and a bit graphic I almost backed out. Then I thought, “I can do this.” And sent it.
I stood up and went to get some water. What Hoppen’s now? I’ll probably be rejected.
The sound on my tablet went off. I went back and a new email was waiting.
I have read over your responses and decided that you will receive a key. You will receive a key by courier in three days and with-it instructions.
Welcome to the One Night Stand Club where it takes only one night to release what has been holding You. Back.
What did she mean, holding me back?
Hello my fire starters. It’s me Fia and I gave you the first part of the O.N.S. clubs reopening. As we all know the club is not like any other. What will she set free once she steps inside? What do you think needs to be released? Let me know. I never bite. Well maybe on occasions I will. (I do not own the picture accompanying the story)