The door to my office was pushed open with considerable force, banged against the wall and made me jump out of my skin.
“Melanie!” He burst into the room, arms full of disorderly paperwork, which he immediately dumped onto my desk, nearly knocking over my full cup of cocoa I’d just wanted to enjoy with my lunch.
I put down the magazine I’d been reading. “Jonathan, it’s lunchtime. Would you mind coming back in 10 minutes?” I said, trying to keep the rage out of my voice.
“Lunch. Fiddledeedee. I pay your wages, so I say when you can have a break,” he hissed. “Here are the receipts for my wife’s business. I want you to file them in order and create an Excel spreadsheet for her accounts. Back to me in an hour. Understood?”
I sighed and nodded. What else was Could I do? He did pay my wages, and he could fire me if he wanted to. I needed this job and doing things for his wife’s business seemed to be part of my position now, whether I liked it or not.
Looking at his smug expression, the expensively tailored suit, the fake tan, plucked eyebrows and freshly coloured hair to hide the grey hairs revealing his true age, I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to punish him for being such an arsehole.
He stomped out of the office, leaving my door wide open, of course. I jumped up; making some of the papers he’d just plonked onto my desk fly, and walked over to the coat stand.
I was on a mission.
Opening my large leather bag carefully, I started to coo softly, “Miles, where are you? It’s time to play. Mummy’s got a treat for you.”
I put my hand into the bag and felt around for the familiar softness of his body. He wrapped his little legs comfortably around my small hand as I lifted him carefully out of his dark hiding place. I dropped a soft kiss on his black body as he began to lift each one of his beautiful legs to stretch after a good sleep.
“You will love this, my darling,” I whispered, smiling to myself.
I peeped through my open door into the corridor. Left. Right. Nobody around. Of course not, it was lunchtime. They’d all gone to the pub.
I slowly walked past closed doors until I found my destination. ‘J.M. Taylor – CEO’ the door proudly proclaimed in oversized gold-coloured letters.
I knocked. No slipping of standards for me. “Yes?” I heard him barking from inside.
I opened the door with my free hand and peeked my head through the gap. He was alone, good.
“Melanie, what is it now? Can’t you see I’m having my lunch for heaven’s sake?” he snarled, feet on his desk and a huge baguette in both hands, ready to be savaged by his enormous, neon-white teeth.
Before he could say anything else, I’d crossed the room and put my delightful pet on his right arm, in easy reach of the baguette.
“What the hell…!” he squealed and froze.
He started to shake uncontrollably and turned an unattractive pale shade underneath his orange tan.
“Ah, Jonathan, I wanted to show you my pet. He is called Miles.” I gave him my sweetest smile and sat down on the edge of his heavy walnut desk. “He is very affectionate. However, he can smell fear and this can trigger him to bite. I haven’t had him neutralized yet. So, please be careful,” I explained.
“Why, err, what?” he managed to blurt out between clenched teeth.
“He seems to like you,” I smiled warmly. “Did you know that tarantulas have a sixth sense when it comes to spotting bad people? So, I’m sure you have absolutely nothing to fear.“
I could clearly see the small beads of sweat glistening just below his hairline. “Oh god,” he squealed, the baguette starting to wobble in his hands.
I leant forward until I could smell the aroma from his pastrami-filled baguette mixed with the fragrance of his Armani aftershave. “As I’ve got your wife’s accounts to sort out this lunch break, I thought that you might want to entertain him while I’m busy. He doesn’t like to be left alone for long.”
I turned my head to glance lovingly at my beautiful hairy friend making his way along Jonathan’s trembling arm towards the now fairly squashed pastrami baguette.
I stood to walk away. “Wait! Melanie! Take your lunch break first. The work can wait. Take as long as you like, but please remove the spider from my arm.”
He looked at me with pleading eyes, eyes that became bigger and bigger until they had taken over my complete field of vision. He started to lick my face….
“Urrg!” I screamed and sat up in bed, pushing the black, wriggling furball away from my wet face. “Miles! Don’t do that!”
Miles jumped down onto the bedroom carpet and started to bark excitedly. “Okay, I’m getting up.”
I had to get ready for my job interview this morning with Jonathan Taylor.
Somehow I felt I would be doing rather well. I smiled to myself on the way to the bathroom.
Caren is a qualified and experienced digital copy & content writer with both a corporate and small business owner background. She runs KreativeInc Agency, a web design, development and content creation agency with her autistic son Callum Gamble.
She specialises in creating Inbound Marketing content for business websites and blogs. Using her expert knowledge, skills and personal experience in business development, personal improvement and autism, she crafts content that makes people take action. Her work is found in retail publications, professional websites, on her writer’s platform StoryBlog and more.
She is also an active advocate of neurodiversity in the workplace and co-founder of the NeuroPool network, neuropool.co.uk. Here, she is organising free educational workshops for employers on how to utilise the extraordinary talent found in people with autism, ADHD, dyspraxia and dyslexia within their business.
When she isn’t typing away on her keyboard or spreading her mission, you can see her having her nose buried in a book or hiking up and down the steep hills of the Yorkshire countryside with her husband, son and daughter.
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