Chapter 13
Tinley always finds herself debating ridiculous topics when she’s taking a shower. For instance, this morning while she was putting shampoo in her hair, she wondered if people really spit in food at restaurants. She’s never personally had it happen to her as far as she knows, but she’s seen it on TV enough times to wonder if it actually happens. Of course, that led her down a tangent and she contemplated the idea that if people are willing to spit in food at restaurants, where is the line drawn and what else do they do to food? When she got to thinking about some dude jizzing in mayonnaise, she gagged and had to stop that line of thought altogether, especially since she was running conditioner through her hair at the time.
This morning’s thought process lengthened her shower more than usual so she had to rush to finish getting ready and out the door. It wasn’t until she pulled into the parking lot at work fifteen minutes later that she realized she was in fact early for work today. So, of course, she pulled out her cell phone and was pleasantly surprised to see a message waiting for her.
Mystery Date: Good morning.
Me: Good morning to you too. I had a ridiculous morning and it was nice to see your message waiting for me.
Mystery Date: Yeah, what happened?
Me: Nothing too eventful. I just got lost in thought while I was in the shower and thought I was going to be late for work. Turns out I’m here ten minutes early.
Mystery Date: In the shower, huh? Were they naughty thoughts?
Her cheeks redden as she thinks of him thinking about her in the shower. That’s not even how she meant for it to come across, but she sees exactly why he would think so. She could continue on down that line of thinking and see where the conversation leads, or she could tell him the truth. Seeing as she’s about ready to go in for an eight-hour shift at work, now is not the ideal time to get all hot and bothered.
Me: Wouldn’t that be exciting? No, I actually got some shampoo in my mouth and spit it out. It got me thinking about whether or not people actually spit in food at restaurants or if that’s just something they make up on TV, and then I got lost on a tangent of what else people put in food for shitty customers.
She sends the long text message and starts gathering up her stuff for the day. The frigid morning air hits her face and she quickens her pace as she heads toward the front of the building. She scans her badge to get in and is instantly hit with a wave of heat as it floats outside. She glances down at her phone and takes a seat in one of the lobby chairs to finish off her conversation.
Mystery Date: Definitely not just something made up for TV.
Me: Oh? Do you know this from personal experience? Or do you have a friend in the restaurant industry?
Mystery Date: Both actually. I know someone in the industry and I worked as a waiter while I was in college. Trust me, if you ever want to eat at a restaurant again, you don’t want to know what some people have put in food before.
Me: I’ll take your word for it. That does not sound like something I want to know.
Her bags go onto her shoulder as she uses her badge yet again to get onto the calling floor. She’s walking toward her desk when her phone dings with a notification. She glances down but ignores is at she makes her way over to her desk. A voice comes from behind her and she jumps at the booming sound.
“Tinley, are you seriously texting someone right now? Do you not know that our ability to run credit cards for our customers could be completely compromised if someone saw your cell phone out? What are you thinking right now?”
“Marek, calm down. It’s just in my hand, and it’s not like I’m even at my desk right now.”
“No, you’re not at your desk, but the moment you stepped foot on the sales floor, your phone should have been out of sight. C’mon, you’ve worked here long enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to explain it to you.”
Tinley slides her phone into her hoodie pocket and raises her hands. “All gone. No worries.”
“I don’t feel like you’re taking this seriously right now. Does PCI compliance mean anything to you?”
“You’re taking this way too far. It’s not like I was anywhere near a computer. We’re fine. Just let me get back to work.”
He continues talking to her, but she pretends to not hear him as she walks over to her desk. Geez. Dakota tells her on a daily basis that she needs to get laid, but it seems like the person who is really dealing with that issue is Marek. He at least needs to get that stick up his ass pulled out. It’s like he’s dead set on making her day worse than it has to be.
* * *
As soon as Tinley’s break comes up, she’s up and out of her seat as quickly as possible. Normally she lingers a bit to catch a call coming in, but she doesn’t even care about that anymore. She’s mostly eager to read the text message that’s waiting on her phone from this morning. It’s been burning a hole in her hoodie pocket for the past two hours, and now she can finally catch a glimpse of it.
Mystery Date: See, I knew you were smart.
The simple text makes her smile. He was totally complimenting himself on the fact that she agreed with what he had to say, but he complimented her at the same time too. It’s so completely high school for her to be getting this excited about it, but she can’t help herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as Marek heads outside. She absolutely hates that they have identical work schedules. Every single day they work at the exact same time and have their breaks and lunches together. It’s totally annoying, but she doesn’t have a legitimate reason to ask for her schedule to be changed. Plus, she’s afraid if she were to ask for a schedule change, they’d move her to the swing shift, and that’s the last thing she wants. She actually likes her schedule, minus this annoyance, so she puts up with it.
Me: How many times can you imagine stabbing needles through your boss’s head before it becomes excessive?
Mystery Date: Depends. On a scale from one to uber douche, where does he/she land?
She cracks up laughing at that one. She’s never met someone else, besides Dakota, who likes to mix it up and not just use douchebag all the time as an insult. In fact, when they’re really bored they’ll come up with different variations. They’ve been known to curl up on the couch with a bottle of wine and Urban Dictionary a time or two.
Me: We’ll definitely put him into the doucheasaurus rex category.
Mystery Date: That’s a new one for me. I’m going to assume that’s bad and say as many times as you need to in order to help get you through the day.
Me: I like your thinking. What about you? Do you have asshole bosses you have to put up with?
Mystery Date: Of course, who doesn’t? But I’m in that awkward position of having bosses and being a boss at the time same.
Me: Well I hope you at least like your job. I could never be management at the place where I work—too much politics.
Mystery Date: You’ll find that pretty much anywhere you work though.
Me: I wouldn’t know, I haven’t had many jobs.
Mystery Date: Are you that young? Or have you just stuck around at the same place for a long time?
Me: Fishing for my age, are we? How old are you?
Mystery Date: It would be nice to know how old you are. I at least know you’re legal since you had to be twenty-one to do the speed dating, but other than that, it’s a complete mystery to me. I’m 35.
She contemplates playing with him and seeing how far she can take this. She kind of enjoys the banter that they always have together, but playing coy about her age seems almost juvenile and pointless. Besides, since he’s already thirty-five he probably doesn’t want to be with a young girl that plays games. She needs to act more mature. More like her age.
Me: 29
Mystery Date: That is a relief. I don’t think I could handle being with someone ten years younger than me. I’d like to date a grown-up.
Me: That’s me, grown-up girl who’s stayed too long at a job she hates. With that, I’ll leave you for the time being. Back to work it is.
This time she instantly puts her phone back into her hoodie pocket. She’d rather not have a repeat of this morning if Marek catches her carrying her phone, but if Mystery Date sends another text right away, she doesn’t want to wait two hours to find out what it says. That was just too much for her anxiety last time and made her morning stretch on for days. Maybe, if she’s lucky, this time she’ll get busy and time will fly by.