rocket to nowhere

#164: Fight Choreographer

Evelyn pushed her chair into the middle of her cubicle, drew her knees toward her chin, reached out tentatively with one hand, and, barely touching the edge of her desk, spun herself around and around. She spent the better part of the morning doing this, pausing only to dizzily drink more coffee or weave her way to the restroom.

Evelyn opened the drawer and stared at the paperclips, the stapler, the correction fluid, the unused, extra pens, the hole punch, the loose change, the yellow sticky notes, the etc. She removed everything from the drawer, counted it, made note of the totals, and put everything back in the drawer in a new place.

Evelyn bumped the mouse. Her eyes were closed, so she only heard the screen as it flickered on. Thinking she knew what the screen looked like and where the cursor was, but keeping her eyes closed, she opened the spreadsheet she had been working on last week. She blindly worked for about fifteen minutes, then corrected her mistakes.

Evelyn talked to her co-workers about themselves. Evelyn went to her boss’s office and talked to her boss about the boss’s kids.

Evelyn went back to her cubicle.

Evelyn opened the spreadsheet again and methodically entered the proper numbers. She checked and rechecked her formulae. She created a second spreadsheet, re-entered the same numbers, and re-formulated the same formulae. This is how she was able to double-check her work before sending it to her boss. She kept herself from creating a third, identical spreadsheet, even though she very much wanted to. She knew the numbers were right.

Evelyn ripped the paper into one-inch squares, which she then put on the bottom of her waste-basket. Evelyn ripped the paper into one-inch squares, which she then put on top of the one-inch squares she had placed at the bottom of her waste-basket. Evelyn ripped the paper into one-inch squares, which she then put on top of the one-inch squares she had placed on top of the one-inch squares she had put at the bottom of her waste-basket. In this way, she avoided having to talk to the man whose cubicle was right next to the shredder.

Evelyn went to the water cooler and spoke to no one.

Evelyn surfed the internet for an hour and a half and read a story about a fight choreographer who had been attacked on the street by a gang of thugs. The story contained the phrases, “rolling with the punches,” and “knowing how to fall.” The fight choreographer had spent three months in the hospital. The thugs had never been caught.

Evelyn checked her math by hand, then by calculator. She carefully re-checked the numbers in the spreadsheet. She printed the spreadsheet, and retrieved it from the printer without having to talk to the guy whose cubicle was right next to the shredder. She neatly stacked all of those papers in her outbox. She tidied her cubicle. She went home.

Evelyn came into work.