552. The New Better-Paying Top Secret Job

Okay, I haven’t been totally honest about my New Better-Paying Top Secret Job. It is better-paying then the previous Top Secret Job and better-paying than the high-end kitchen store, as long as I actually do work. The thing is, my new job is an “on-call” position.

When the HR lady initially interviewed me, she assured me that I would get oodles of hours. That might even have been her exact word, “oodles.”

“How many hours, exactly, are you looking for, Captain MOV?” I remember her asking me eagerly.

“Oh, you know, uh, what is a normal work-week these days? Forty? Four hundred? Somewhere in that vicinity.”  She hired me for my math ability alone. 

Sure enough, my phone rang that very night with an automated message from work. I pressed “1” to accept the job for the next day. My first day went surprisingly well, except for the part where I accidentally broke some very expensive equipment.

I immediately went to the office of my new boss to turn myself in.

“Excuse me? President Boss? Uh, remember me, MOV?”

She stopped what she was doing and glanced up. She nodded, indicating that she did indeed remember me.

I continued. “So sorry to interrupt your, uh, yearly stats meeting with the entire board, but, umm, I accidentally broke the (insert name of super-expensive piece of crucial equipment here).”

She smiled kindly at me, as if I’d just told her that Starbucks was out of caramel and did she want vanilla instead.

She responded, “No biggie. I think it was due to be replaced soon anyway. I’ll just add it to my list. Thanks for letting me know, MOV!”

That was the thing about President Boss. She made you feel like even though you might’ve unintentionally caused some sort of major problem, she was actually somehow grateful to you. I walked out of her office feeling good and wondering what else I could break and how soon.

My phone did not ring the next night, nor the one after. I became slightly suspicious that perhaps one of my new co-workers had said something mean or true about me (“MOV broke some expensive equipment” or “MOV is not very bright and should not be left alone if at all possible”).  I began to worry that I had made a grave mistake, accepting this New Better-Paying Top Secret Job, when I could have kept working at the high-end kitchen store for the rest of my life, or at least indefinitely.  My superior math-deducing skills told me that zero hours would equal, uh, probably not a very big paycheck. 

The next day, I didn’t bother to set the alarm. What’s the point if I am just staying home? Who cares if I take a shower and wash my hair or not? The New Better-Paying Top Secret Job is obviously not calling me. At 7 AM, the phone did ring. I had an assignment!

I arrived to work exactly on time, greasy hair and all. I even had enough time left over to pour myself a cup of fresh coffee from the lunchroom when I arrived.

I ran into President Boss in the hall. “How is everything going for you, Countess MOV?” she inquired enthusiastically.

“Great! Just great!” I made a grand sweeping gesture with my arm, to echo the sentiment of “great.” I spilled my entire cup of hot black coffee on the pristine white carpet.

President Boss looked at the floor, then up at me.

“Are you okay?” she asked without even the slightest trace of sarcasm, as she produced a handful of paper towels from out of nowhere. “You didn’t burn yourself, did you?”

“No, no … I’m fine,” I managed weakly.

And then I heard her say under her breath, “This carpet is so old anyway. I’m going to add it to the list.”

MOV