T.J.'s Experiment in Pink

by Anne O'Nonymous

 

PART SEVEN

 

The Nancys returned to their respective offices and, on the way back, Kathy had to stop off for a moment to check on the progress of a project. A few minutes later, I had a call to nature, took care of it, washed my hands, and practiced repairing damage to my lipstick. As I was doing this, another woman entered, saw who I was, hesitated for a moment, then said, "You're TJ, Ms. Mueller's PA, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm just a temp, though. Emm, I was just leaving."

"Hey, honey," she said, entering an open stall, "you really do look nice!"

"Thanks, I like your hair, it's really a nice shade," I said with a friendly smile, leaving her to contemplate and do whatever's necessary.

The rest of the day passed quickly, Kathy giving three letters as a test. Two were straightforward; the other was a bare outline that I filled in. Apparently I passed, as she liked them. About three o'clock, we had coffee together, discussing what tomorrow's schedule would be as I updated Kathy's daybook and calendar.

Outside, in my area, I had the printer's hopper full, keyboards cleaned and covered; pens, pencils, erasers, and legal pads in one drawer, calendar and daybook in another. Just another day in the life of Terri, super PA.

"Ready to go, sweets?"

I was startled by the sound. A glance at my watch: 4:30. Gee – quitting time!

"Just about," I answered Kathy, switching from moccasins to heels. It was a fairly slow day, and I for one was glad.

"I'll walk you down to your car."

"Thanks, Kathy. It seemed to be rather quiet today."

"Yes, Mondays usually are. That's good because you had a chance to get settled in quite nicely. I'm glad of that."

We walked and talked. Kathy told me about the weekend meetings, the men who were invited, and the maid serving.

"My dear, you know how men are when they see one pretty girl – they just lose their heads. Now think what two pretty distractions could do. I'll have them eating out of my hand."

I saw mom waiting by the car and waved, just as Nancy walked up. Kathy and I hugged, and Nancy and I hugged, then we went our separate ways.

"Have a good day, dear?" mom inquired, as we entered her car and fastened our seatbelts for the drive home.

"Yeah, mom. It went better than I expected. Everything is pretty straightforward. Emm, you don't mind the weekend thing, do you?"

Mom's answer was: "It's your decision, honey. You have to find out on your own what is right for you, and accept your decisions as yours."

How precious

is the time

between moments.

 

That said we rode in silence as I digested the obvious that seems to be missed by many. I looked at the construction site, and saw skeletons of houses rising up from the graveyard of an empty field. It seemed to me that after working in an office, albeit a nice place, you start to appreciate the outdoors more. Air conditioning and Muzac can't replace the sound and feel of a cooling afternoon breeze.

Reaching home, mom pulled into the driveway and parked the car; we unlocked our seatbelts and headed for the door, hand in hand – now truly a mother and younger daughter.

Entering the house, I heard Sandra say, "Sit and relax. Dinner will be a potato salad, baked fish with lemon, succotash with red peppers added, and apple pie for dessert. There'll be white wine with dinner, and coffee after."

Mom and I both changed from heels to slippers.

Sitting and relaxing with mom, my memory went back to a few incidents I tried to forget, one being my tryout for the school baseball team. I seemed to lack the necessary coordination, which was vital in the sport. There was the school coach, tossing the ball, and me, swinging and missing – I don't know who gave up first. I sure wasn't cut out for baseball, or for most other sports for that matter.

Then there was the time I came to Jennie Martin's aid. She was a pretty girl at ten, wearing those appealing dresses. And that golden blonde hair just stood out. Jackie Jensen was bullying her, as usual, trying to shove her into a muddy puddle, and I kicked him in the shin. God, was he mad! He wound up in the puddle, then the principal's office, and finally detention for three weeks. I got off with a warning.

Max – Mrs. Hanson's cat. I had forgotten all about that. How long ago was that? Five, six years? The cat was old, true enough, but why him. I was on her porch, just petting Max – I liked the old tabby – when out of the blue it let out a "meow" and suddenly went still. I didn't know what to do, so I called for Mrs. Hanson. The vet at the hospital said it was deceased. Damn cat, it was old, damn it. Why did it have to die in my arms! I cried most of the night. I could feel the tears coming on, again.

"Okay, soup's on."

Sitting at the table, dishes going to and fro, I wondered why those memories came back, especially at this time. Eating my dinner, I chewed my food and memories of the past.

"You ready for pie, TJ," Sandra asked.

"3.1416," I muttered, not understanding.

"Tea, it's apple pie."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, I guess," I replied.

"What's the matter, honey?" mom asked.

"I dunno, mom. I jus' dunno." I had no words that I could put into a coherent statement, just random thoughts flashing here and there. They were like bubbles breaking on the surface of a glass of ginger ale.

At one time, a teacher told me I had Attention Deficit Syndrome, to which I replied, "There are so many interesting things to learn that I try to cram in as much as possible, and I don't like spending too much time on any one subject." So it could be that these were splicings; separate thoughts intertwining themselves, calling for attention and interpretation.

With kitchen duty finished, Sandra and me decided to watch a History channel show on WWII, while mom did some work on her computer.

"Terri, did you like today?"

"Sandy, I was surprised by how well it went. I expected a few problems, but none occurred. The word processor programs are all top-notch, the printers run quietly, and, well, all the people there treated me like family."

Sandra smiled at him, said, "I'm glad you liked it."

At eight pm, I said my "Good Nights" to all and headed up to bed. After a brief wash and cosmetic removal, I was ready to spend another night in a satin gown, bra and panties, which wasn't that bad!

Work isn't really bad,
being out of work is.

Tuesday came sooner than expected. I was up, washed, in a robe and slippers, and making Spanish omelets as the rest of the ladies came down. My "Good Morning" was as sincere as I could make it. Home fries, OJ, English muffins and jam, and coffee filled out the breakfast menu.

Weather that day would be cooler than usual, with an eighty percent chance of rain in the overnight hours. I dreaded having to go to work in the rain.

The drive to work that day was somewhat subdued. I had a strange "mind sez no, heart sez yes" kind of feeling. I enjoyed the clothes, but there seemed to be a "wrongness" about it. Maybe I was just waiting to see what the "body" vote would be.

Staring out the window, we passed the construction site. I looked forward to the homebound trip, to see how many houses would be fleshed out; that is, have siding and roofing applied before the expected rainfall.

Parked at work, we said our parting "Have a pleasant day" inside and proceeded to our offices. I hoped that today would be real busy – I was anxious to earn my pay, and learn what it's like to work in a busy office.

"Good morning, Terri. I have some lab testing reports for filing, five letters to be typed in triplicate, and some errands for you to run," Kathy stated, with a wry smile, "I think that will keep you out of trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, hanging up my jacket and switching shoes.

I got busy with the reports. There were red folders, lab rejects for one cabinet; green for positive results, drawer above rejects; and, yellow, for ongoing work, top file: each folder being filed by product name and code number. Letters were soon typed in Courier using MS Word, one paper copy going to the proper file, the second for Ms. Mueller's signature, and the third copy stored on a CD. Searching through a drawer, I found and hand addressed five envelopes, put each letter with its respective cover, and knocked on Ms. Mueller's door.

"Come."

Entering, I crossed to her desk, said, "I have those letters you requested ready for your signature, Kathy." I tried to sound and be as professional as possible.

"Oh, thank you very much!" Kathy said, motioning me to a chair, "I'll take care of that right now."

I sat, smoothing my skirt under in one smooth motion, and watched as she carefully read each one before signing. I think I was getting the hang of "girl stuff."

"That was excellent work, Terri, not one typo! I am so glad you were able to step into the breach, as it were."

"Charge of the light brigade, I think."

"What's that?"

"Oh, a line that goes, "Once more into the breach, my friends, once more into the breach!"

There was a light laugh, then her admission, "Sorry, I never had a chance to read it. Okay, errands, then you take a lunch."

I had five letters for the mailroom, two packages to testing, a pit stop, pick up two large envelopes of special labels from printing and deliver to shipping.

Oh boy, was I glad to be wearing flats!

The special labels were for a "Joe Baldwin" in shipping. To get there, I had to cross the factory floor, go up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, through an emergency exit to a fire escape, in a second door, down . . . well, it was a trip.

"Ma'am, can I help you?" came from a security type.

"Yes," I said, holding up packaged labels, "I have to deliver some special labels to a Joe Baldwin. Where can I find him?"

He looked at me, then, seeing the yellow badge, motioned for me to follow him.

It was a short walk to an office with a desk covered in small 5" by 8" padded envelopes, each appearing to contain some item. A 6'4" man, weighing about 220, was busy sorting through the packages, mumbling, "where the hell is that messenger."

"Ahem," the guard coughed, getting the man's attention.

"Charlie, I thought I told . . .oh, hi," the man said with a kind of crooked smile, "I'm Joe Baldwin, and you are . . . ?"

I looked up at his smiling face, returned the smile, said, "I'm Terri, Terri Matthews. I'm Ms. Mueller's Temp. PA, and I have some labels for you . . ."

"Oh, good! I was just about to send Charlie here out to look for you."

"It's kinda hard to get here."

"Know what you mean! Got lost the first time myself."

I stared up at this rather attractive guy, with his deep blue eyes, great dimpled smile, strong clean-shaven chin, and curly dark brown hair. I envied him, because he looked like a guy that could have any girl he wanted with just a nod in her direction, whereas I could not.

"I guess you're wondering about these things, huh?"

"Sort of."

"Okay, see the company sends new product samples out to various stores, focus panels, and testing companies for evaluation. Also, there are independent lab analyses. Labels are all preaddressed, so it falls to me to get the right label on the right package."

"I see."

He laughed softly, then said, "I've made some fresh coffee, would you like some? You could drink and help me sort labels, how about it?"

"Love to." So what's wrong with helping out? It was a man, and I'm a boy, and . . . and . . . we were really close, maybe too close.

"That's nice perfume you're wearing."

"Thanks, I love it." Is that how it starts -- a little compliment to break to ice? You sit and work close, then he moves closer, takes your hand in his for some excuse. Blue labels on blue piles . . . such nice blue eyes. Concentrate, yes, he is tall. That kind smile, wish I had something like it.

"Terri, you're not drinking your coffee!"

"Oh, sorry," I replied, taking a sip of very strong coffee, and putting it down, my face telling the story.

"Oh, that's right, I do tend to make it overly strong."

I glanced at my watch, frowned for his benefit, and stated, "I'd better get back to Ms. Mueller! She'll be wondering where I got to . . . er, what happened to me."

"Charlie, would you please escort Terri down to the Medical office."

"Sure, sir. This way, please."

Even though I wasn't ill in the slightest, I followed "Security" as I didn't want to take any chances. Crossing the shipping room floor, I could feel the hungry stares I got from big burly types. Oddly, I did feel they were undressing me with their eyes. Would they be in for one hellova surprise!

Charlie stopped at the Medical office door and said, "Go in, turn left along the desk, follow it around to the right, go through the door, then immediately out the door on your left. Your badge will allow you access."

Curious about Joe, I asked, "What's Joe's job?"

"He heads the whole shipping and receiving section, miss."

I was impressed. I entered the office, turned as directed, and was stopped by a nurse. Showing her the badge, she guided me to the other door.

Back on the factory floor, I got my bearings and headed for my home away from home.

"Now that's great timing!" Kathy said as I entered, "Just in time for lunch, Terri."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the cafeteria, I asked, "Where's Nancy?"

"She's taking a group of VIPs on a guided tour," mom replied.

"Oh," I said, my voice showing disappointment.

When the cart came, I waited until mom and Kathy picked, then I took a Jello, cucumber-and-onion salad, and Orange Pekoe tea.

Halfway through, mom smirked and said, "Heard you were down in shipping looking over all the hunks."

"Oh, mom, they weren't hunks," I replied, my blushing face giving me away.

"C'mon, Nancy, you're embarrassing the poor girl," Kathy retorted.

"A-w-w-w, poor kid!" mom teased.

"Terri, did you meet Joe Baldwin?"

"Yes, I helped him for awhile."

"He's a great guy, isn't he?"

"Emm, you're not planning any . . . ."

"Terri! I'm truly surprised at you!" Kathy said with an astonished look. "He's old enough to be your father! Joe has two daughters, one who would be about your age, that he hasn't seen in four years. His wife, damn her soul, walked out on him. I mean, she just packed her and her children's things, took his car, cleared out his bank account and drove away. No note, no explanation – she just up and left."

"Gosh, I didn't think women were capable of doing things like that!"

"Oh, yes they do! And to some pretty nice guys too, the damn bitches. Terri, it isn't always men that are the bad guys, women can wear black Stetsons too."

Why? I could understand if the guy was a mean bastard, but Joe seemed to be a likeable person. Why him?

"Terri, maybe Joe was just too nice!" mom said.

Lunch finished, I walked back to my desk, found some letters to be typed, and had at them. Since there was no phone on my desk, I didn't expect to be interrupted at an inopportune time. Kathy asked me to carry a pager when I was away from the office, and she carried a pager and a cell phone, so we would almost always be in touch.

"Those letters ready?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ready for your signature."

I watched Kathy read and sign each letter – she was thorough, I must say that. She put the letters in their envelopes and sealed them, ready for delivery to the mailroom for the outgoing mail.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the week went smoothly, and I seemed to be getting the knack of walking and talking in heels. The companionship of the ladies at lunch was terrific, because, at school, I usually ate alone. More information was gleaned from their gossip sessions than any newspaper could (or would) print.

The activity on the construction site provided a nice diversion on the drive home. The amount of work that they accomplished in a day was fascinating to me. Maybe I'll go into construction.

Friday's dinner was topped off with a devil's food cake, a single small candle adorning the icing to celebrate my first working week, and I was allowed an extra large piece!

After dinner, Sandra washed, mom dried, and I gathered up the week's laundry, ready to wash Saturday. Hmmm, there seemed to be more delicates in the wash this time – I wonder why?

As mom retired to her computer, Sandra picked the TV shows, as I had no particular Friday night program to watch, besides her choices were usually interesting. Since I didn't work Saturday, I could stay up really late, 9:30.

 

To Be Continued –

Annie O

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Ann O'Nonymous. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.