Page 35 - Three Adventures
P. 35

Deflator Mouse


        he  turned  away  whistling.  His  closet  held  the  outfits  for  several
        popular  sports;  his  usual  practice  was  to  release  his  workaday
        tensions  in  violent  movements  on  a  tennis  court  or  bicycle.  Ken
        made  no  move  to  change  his  clothes,  however.  He  picked  up  the
        telephone  in  the kitchenette  and  punched  in  the  number  of  Cindy
        Johnson, his girlfriend.
          “Hello?”
           “Hi, babe.  What’s happening?”
          “Oh, Ken.  I wish it were Friday already.”
          “So we could go out dancing?”
          “No—I  mean,  sure,  I’d  like  to  go,  but  right  now  I’m  beat.
        Seriously. It’s my job. The salesmen let their orders build up until the
        end of the month and then they dump them all on me at once. I can’t
        possibly get all that paperwork into the computer before the cut-off.
        I mentioned again  to Mr. Kostopoulos that we should get another
        person to help me with the billing, but he said it’s only bad once a
        month  so  he  couldn’t  justify  hiring  anybody  else.  Of  course,  he
        doesn’t  want  to  pay  me  overtime,  either,  so  I’m  just  supposed  to
        work twice as fast, or whatever it takes. I mean, it’s really gotten to be
        a drag there. What about Litmus? Are they hiring? I’d love to work in
        a bigger place where the workload is spread out and the bosses can’t
        act like such petty tyrants.”
          Ken  grimaced.  “Well,  I  did  inquire,  Cindy,  but  ever  since  we
        started that new project  there’s been a hiring freeze. They do post
        open positions on the bulletin board, so I’ll let you know as soon as
        something’s available. Sorry you’ve got such a rotten deal there.”
          “Thanks for the sympathy; really. It’s all who you know, isn’t it?  I
        got this job because my brother Bob plays racquet ball with one of
        the partners. And now I want you to get me into Litmus, where the
        grass is greener. I hope. Oh, well. Someday...anyway, I’m just going
        to  eat  some  left-overs  and  watch  TV;  that  new  mini-series  is  on
        tonight.”
          “Oh, yeah? What is it? Maybe I’ll watch it, too.”
          “Haven’t you heard about it? The Whores of Babylon. All about the
        actresses and producers who make television mini-series. Everyone in
        the office is talking about it. Probably pretty bad, but I’m curious.”


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