“Good morning, sir.” Your boss’s secretary greets you cheerfully as you enter the office. Today she’s wearing large peacock earrings. They don’t go with the rest of her respectable black and white outfit, but you’ve learned that it’s one of her quirks. Not that you mind, of course. It adds color to your day. As do the daily office rumors. You work at a large company, at the 4th level of the corporate pyramid. You have for 10 years, and presumably, you will for the next 30. It’s never bothered you or your wife or your son. Today is not particularly special. There are spreadsheets to be made, letters to be written, and documents to be emailed. In between work, you have coffee with your coworkers and laugh about the seemingly insignificant things that happen to you in your daily life. Like forgetting an umbrella in a torrential downpour, or copying the same paper 400 times. At the end of the day, you go home to your wife and son, who are always there to greet you. She welcomes you with a hot supper, and a hug. Also, while your son is occupied with his new birthday trucks, a quick peck on the lips. You sit at dinner together and, like at work, share everything. Your son, beaming, proudly tells you he got an A on his test. Your wife tells you the neighborhood gossip. You tell them that one of your coworkers accidently exploded the printer. All in all, it’s a good day. When you go to bed, you dream about clouds.
“Oh my God!” screams your boss’s secretary, eyes wide with horror. You were late today, but no one’s noticed. As you peer curiously into the room where the scream came from, you see a huge dark stain on the ground. “There’s coffee everywhere,” the secretary says, shaking her head, “The floors were just cleaned yesterday.” That was anticlimactic. But seriously, you’re late. Will your boss be angry? “Goodness!” the secretary exclaims again. You turn around to look at her, and notice she’s wearing a large feather hat as her daily oddity. Had you not noticed it before? It gives a rather comical effect to her horror. As you assume she’s ranting about the coffee, you once again turn in the direction of your cubicle, but then come to an abrupt stop as a hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you in. Lying limply, just behind the desk is your boss. The secretary shakes her head, as she did with the coffee. “That rug was just cleaned,” she murmurs, “just cleaned.” You shrug. Naturally, the police are called and it’s quickly deduced that it was all a heart attack. You feel a pang of guilt as you leave. Being promoted on the day of someone’s death, you probably should. That day you learn his name was Elliot, and that he liked to birdwatch. You never knew that about him, you knew liked birds, but not that his name was Elliot. You call your wife to explain what happened, and when you get home, she hugs you. It’s okay, she says, giving you a reassuring smile. Really, it’s nothing to feel too bad about. You dream of a heart that pumps coffee.
“Good morning, sir.” Your boss’s secretary, or rather, your new boss’s secretary, greets you cheerfully the next day. Her strangely happy demeanor draws suspicious stares, but no one questions it. Just like no one questions her flamboyant way of dressing. Today, there’s a lovely chain around her neck. The pendant is a dead mosquito encased in a huge block of amber. It’s too bad, you note, that even though it is indeed an exquisite piece of jewelry, people will not look at it as a treasure. Your new boss is the same as your old boss. Yes, what was your old boss like? You are feeling remorse, as your memory has begun to slip. Who was he again? No matter, your salary has doubled, courtesy of a heart attack, and now you must work. As with all the other days you’ve worked here, you file papers, and arrange documents. The only difference is, you get to order other people to file your papers for you. Some of the people, anyways. When you meet with your friends for lunch that day, you notice that they regard you with slightly more respect. Although it’s an empowering feeling, you also find you miss the lack of playful insults. They don’t bring up the time you joked about firing them if you ever got promoted. For the most part, though, you’re content. Nothing much has changed, except for the slight increase in paperwork. Your wife doesn’t mind that you come home a bit late, and neither does your son, as you hand him a new transformer set. You bought it on the way home, with the money you know you’ll have when payday comes. When you go to sleep, you dream of something nice to buy your wife.
“Good morning, sir.” Your boss’s secretary greets you cheerfully, as you head to your slightly bigger cubicle. It’s been exactly 6 months since you’ve been upgraded to it. The office aura has regained its previous feeling since—since something happened? You feel a cloudy confusion come over you as you struggle to remember something that must have been significant. But as quickly as it comes, it leaves. The familiar sound of beeping phones, light taps on the keyboard, and scratches of pen on paper calms you as you slide into your chair and take phone calls. Oops, you hear on the other side of the line. It seems someone under you has made a mistake. You’ll have to stay after to deal with it. You’re lenient, and hang up quickly, after reassuring him with a tight voice that it will be fine. The one thing you find that you dislike about ordering others to finish work for you is that they’re not quite as reliable as yourself. You sigh, and take a lunch break with your friends—your new friends. You convince yourself you haven’t ditched your old friends in the 4th level of the corporate pyramid, but it’s just that these friends in the 3rd level are much more understanding. And you wouldn’t want to offend your previous friends with complaints of the diminishing quality of their work, now would you? You’re a bit later than your wife would have liked, but what can you do about that? Some people cannot write reports. She forgives you after you’ve apologized profusely. That night you dream of someone named Elliot, who asks you to climb a tree and examine a bird’s nest with him. You don’t understand it and you feel no reason that you should try.
“Oh my God!” screams your boss’s secretary, eyes wide with horror. As you enter the office, you kick over a decorative plant, but no one notices. You enter the room where the secretary is muttering and staring with extreme displeasure at the red stain on the carpet. “Is there no way he could have set the cup of cranberry juice further back on the desk? I did tell him it would spill, I did.” You are about to say something, but she cuts you off, “The carpets were cleaned yesterday.” You can only nod in silent agreement. However, you really must do more important things. You turn to leave. As you are about to go make calls, you hear a creak and a clunk. “Goodness!” you hear the secretary exclaim. You turn to see what has happened and realize that she is wearing a variety of dead animals around her neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, but you do not question it. On the ground before you, you see your boss, lying dead and the door to the closet wide open. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, while you hear the secretary tutting disapprovingly at him, “Serves him right for ruining those carpets.” She has a point. The police come in to examine the corpse. You listen carefully as the police explain that he was not dead in the closet, but rather, died from the impact of falling out of the closet. You are confused when the officer asks you why Bernard was in a closet. The secretary explains to you that his name was Bernard. Oh, yes, you remember, he liked elephants. As a memento, the secretary leaves you with an elephant tusk on your way out. As well as a promotion to the 2nd level of the corporate pyramid. Your wife stares at the elephant tusk with confusion and the tiniest bit of disgust, however she does become sweeter when you mention your promotion. That night, you dream of your own office.
“Good morning, sir.” Your boss’s, well, your new boss’s secretary greets you cheerfully the next day. Her bright, calm, reassuring smile follows you to your desk, where you sit down and survey the people sitting around you. She continues to stare, and you see her object of the day is glasses. They’re bright, they’re neon, they’re flashing, and quite frankly, it’s painful to look at. No one in the office seems to care about the blinding rays of light that move across the room as she turns her head. They seem a bit morbid, actually, which you don’t—oh, right. There was a death yesterday. You do not feel remorse that your promotion came at such a heavy cost, which makes you feel remorse. So in a way, you justify to yourself, you are getting your fair share of remorse anyway. The little bit of guilt in your mind keeps nagging you, but you ignore it. Your new boss wants this project done. Though when he said to finish it, you must have thought he said “make other people finish it”, because you spend the day making calls to people who were once your friends. At lunch, you expect to eat with the people on the 2nd level of the corporate pyramid to discuss the lack of work ethic in your new underlings. However, it seems they are all working through lunch. You suppose the friendliest thing you can do it follow suit. Your friends from the 3rd level come to talk to you, but seem uncomfortable and quickly disappear. You realize that while they show definite respect, as you remembered from your last promotion, they also show fear. You are loath to admit you enjoy it. When you return home late, your wife is ready to begin a verbal assault on you for leaving an elephant tusk on the kitchen table. You ask if there’s anything she’s been wanting lately. Say, a Louis Vuitton purse? You’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed that it shuts her up so quickly. That night, you dream of blinding rays of light.
“Good morning, sir,” your boss’s secretary greets you cheerfully. Today, she walks with you to your office, newly acquired 6 months ago, as she explains she needs to do something on the way. You nod professionally and complement her shoes. You’ve just recently decided she has a wonderful sense of style. She nods professionally back, then leaves to do her work. As she walks away, they clunk gently on the floor. Her shoes are see-through, and the chunky heels are made of hollowed out glass. There is a mini aquarium in the heels, and the fish in the water swish back and forth as she walks towards the printer. You wonder whether if they’re alive or not, and you begin your day. It’s not very eventful. Perhaps you should have continued your conversation with her. Maybe she would have commented on your new tie, which you secretly are very proud of. But no one comments on it. You enjoy the silence, and yet wish someone would notice it. Your wife hadn’t noticed this morning, as she was angry at the elephant tusk, still sitting on the table for the past 6 months. You try to remember why it had been there in the first place. Where on Earth would you have gotten an elephant tusk? Your head hurts for a bit, then the pain subsides. You shrug your shoulders. Just like everyone else on your level, you work through lunch. When did you ever have time to eat with friends? At the end of the day, when you go over the papers you’ve made them do for you, you wonder why you were friends with them in the first place. This time, you call someone on the 3rd level and tell them in a not so subtly angry voice how much they have screwed up. You consider making them do all the work, but you decide your perfection cannot be matched, and angrily stay after. You come home very late, but your wife is still up. She greets you with a smile, twirls for you in her coat and barely notices the elephant tusk. You find yourself smiling, too. Not because you’re happy, it’s more because she won’t be complaining. Your son is nowhere to be seen. And then it registers, with the colorful banners, and party hats, it was his birthday. She shrugs, and you shrug. What’s to be said? You’ll write him a card later. And for good measure, you hand your wife some money to put in it. You haven’t time to worry about this now. You dream about being trampled by elephants that night. As the last one passes, a man sits down next to you and offers you cranberry juice. It gives you a migraine.
“Oh my God!” screams your boss’s secretary, eyes wide with horror. As you enter the office, and slam the door behind you, it falls off the hinges and comes crashing to the ground, but no one notices. You decide to order someone to fix it later, and try to find out what has happened. When you see what the secretary is upset about, you shake your head with disappointment. A red glob is on the carpet, undoubtedly sinking in as you watch it. “There’s jam everywhere,” she says and you can tell that although her face is blank, there is a deep rage under the calm mask. There is a huge jar of jam on the carpet, shattered. “The carpets were just cleaned yesterday,” she continues, and you feel an urge to make whoever did this pay. You close your eyes, and rub your temples to sooth your mind and as soon as you have opened them again, you hear the secretary exclaim, “Goodness!” It is then that you realize she is wearing ridiculously long eyelashes, that swoop in the air like butterfly wings when she blinks. There is an excessive amount of glitter on them. When she turns to look at you, you can feel a cloud of sparkles fall over you, and gently brush it off. After dealing with that, you see your boss sleeping under his desk, with seemingly nothing wrong. When you go to wake him up, he spasms, then falls quite silent. Any further attempts to get him to open his eyes are fruitless, so the police are called. While they talk about the strange circumstances of his death, you discuss with the secretary good ways to get berry jam out of a carpet. After all, it will become your new office. You are both becoming increasingly frustrated, as the jam is most likely going to stain. When the officer asks you if Martin’s obsession with paperclips was the reason he ingested them and died, you shrug. What was this about dying? The police officer ignores you when you ask about how to get jam out of carpets. You go home early that day, and your wife is wearing the dresses you bought. She begins to ask you for something, so you hand her your credit card and tell her to max it out. You’re being promoted to The Boss. You barely register her smile as she runs out the door. You look online for a good stain remover, and then decide that you’re The Boss. If that’s to be your office, you’ll replace the whole carpet. Your son ignores you when he gets home, or is it that you ignore him? That night you dream of the static on a TV. Someone’s trying to say something, but you can’t quite make it out.
“Good morning, sir.” Your secretary greets you cheerfully as you enter the office. Today she’s wearing a scuba mask, and flippers. They don’t go with the rest of her respectable black and white outfit, but you know it is one of her quirks. Not that you mind of course. You enjoy her interesting sense of style. It adds color to your day. As does piling on the work for your underlings. When you notice the drop in quality of the work, you become very angry and phone in a terrifying call to a man in the 2nd level, who consequently phones a man in the 3rd level and begins to swear, and because of that, the man on the 3rd level phones in a call to the man on the 4th level, and tells him to get his head in the game. Thank God that was never you. You couldn’t care less. In fact, the way people look at you with fear in their eyes when they pass you gives you a perverse satisfaction. You are the top of a large company, the 1st level of the corporate pyramid. You have been for 20 years, and presumably, you will for the next 20. It’s never bothered you or your wife or your daughter--wait a minute, your son. Actually, you can’t tell. You don’t really know them. You do know it’s definitely never bothered you, except maybe for the insignificant fact that you have no recollection of how you got to the top. Today is not particularly special. There are spreadsheets to order people to finish, angry letters to be written, and documents to reject. There is no in between work and you like it that way. Your office is spic and span, beautiful, perfect in every way, especially the carpet. You come home to an empty house, and when you sleep, you do not dream. You never have.