Revenge of the Cube Dweller Read Online Free Page B

getting ready this morning in preparation for the big meeting, applying root touchup to the hint of gray emerging from where my hair parts and selecting the perfect outfit. The expensive black knit St. John suit is a good choice because it screams money, power, and good taste. Most important, though, the stretchy material enables the wearer to look great anywhere within a four-size range.
    “Hi there, girlie, you’re lookin’ pretty today.” It’s just before 9:00 a.m. Monday morning. I have been at my desk a full two hours before Hal gets to work. With a “World’s Best Dad” coffee mug in one hand and his briefcase in the other, he leans against my cube opening and waits for me to turn around and reciprocate the greeting.
    “Did you have a nice Easter, Hal?”
    “Yes I did, Tanzie, yes I did. We all went to church, of course.Then we had everyone over for lunch and the Webber Annual Egg Hunt. Little Mike won again this year; that’s three in a row.”
    I smile politely at my boss and listen attentively as he continues the blow-by-blow coverage. Engineers tend to be even more detail oriented than accountants, so Hal’s descriptions leave nothing out: what everyone wore, what was in each Easter basket, and what was served for lunch.
    “Nancy baked a ham and made one of those casseroles, what are they called—with the green beans, onions, and canned soup?”
    “Green bean casserole?”
    “Oh yes, that’s it! That’s it. Green bean casserole. You girls sure understand a way to a man’s heart. And pie. No restaurant can make a crust like Nancy. Don’t ask her to balance a checkbook, though. Girls have so much trouble with math. Don’t know why; maybe God just made them that way.” Hal leans down toward me. “And I’m glad he did,” he whispers.
    “I have a CPA, Hal. I can balance a checkbook,” I say and smile.
    “Whoa, now, miss women’s lib. SORRY!” He backs away, waving his hands in exaggerated regret. “I forgot you’re from California. I meant most girls.” Hal chuckles. “Some girls, like you, Tanzie, are great with numbers. Very good trench workers.”
    “Thanks, Hal. I appreciate the compliment. Do you think—”
    “Keep dressing up like today, Tanzie, and it won’t be long before you find a new husband and can quit this job.”
    I let out a sigh as I sit back down and watch Hal walk toward his office. I look at my clock. I have about five minutes before the staff meeting, so I visit the ladies’ room for a fresh coat of lipstick and a quick quality check for lint or stray hairs. I takesome deep breaths and rehearse in my head exactly how I am going to present my findings.
    There are only four of us, so we fit around Hal’s small table rather than tie up a conference room. I am the lowest on the totem pole, but I report directly to Hal. That is a political move, because he has two managers and doesn’t want to upset either of them with a disproportionate reporting structure. Thus, even though both Moe and Frank assign my work, and I have only limited contact with Hal, I am invited to the Monday morning roundtable.
    The meeting begins with an update of what is on Hal’s calendar that week: meetings, business trips, and lunches with important people. Then he goes around the room asking Moe and Frank to let him know what they are working on and about any progress that has been made since the last meeting. Generally, I don’t have a speaking part, and Frank and Moe answer for me because I work under their supervision. Frank begins his update using the checklist on the memo pad he uses to keep track of his reportable events. I watch him tick the little boxes he has drawn beside each item as he goes down the list.
    The most noteworthy thing about Frank is that he is not noteworthy. He is completely ordinary in every respect: neither handsome nor homely; he smiles infrequently and laughs even less; he is medium height, medium weight, about thirty years old with a blond number-three buzz