As
I stroll in to the office I see all the familiar faces. Stanley, our accountant is eating
soup. I suppose soup is a pretty
safe thing to eat. There he sits
in the corner, dribbling on his faded button up shirt, which appears to be as
much of antique as he is. A string
of drool hangs motionless from his bottom lip. He doesn’t collect the cab leases anymore. I’m not sure why. My guess is that the drivers have
become impatient with him as I had long ago.
I go straight to “Victoria”, our effeminate bookkeeper. I don’t often deal with people who are
so old that their age consists of a three-digit number. Perhaps I have some room to grow. I smile, nod, and slowly continue to
the back office. Stanley is a nice
man, I don’t wish him any ill will.
Victoria
is the morale booster of the office, always trying to put a positive spin on
things. I’m not able to do that
anymore, but I keep my peace, and focus on the matter at hand – paying my
lease. Victoria and I are on the
same page with the operation of the company, and it’s malfeasance, but he keeps
quiet. I can see the
reaffirmation of my snide comments in his eyes. There’s an understanding here. Albeit a unspoken one…
Catherine
is here too. We make small talk,
sharing strained smiles. We have
an understanding as well, although not one that is acknowledged. Our encounter is brief.
On
the way out I pass Lupita in her lopsided office chair, which has become warped
by years of strain by Julie and Bertha.
It’s resilience is astounding.
Lupita’s despondency is evident, with her glistening forehead, greasy
hair, and sad face. It seems as if years of working at the company are
beginning to show their age. She
has the good book to keep her company, as do the other office workers.
Lupita
and I are on good terms. She likes
me. As I leave I pick up oil for
the taxi and business cards that I offer as receipts since the company has
decided that something more official isn’t necessary. I’m expected to stamp the back of them with a generic
template for the customers to fill out with any pertinent information from
their trip. I am much too busy for
that. As I am walking out I’m
asked how many business cards I took.
I tell Lupita what she wants to hear. I tell her that I only have 40.
Catherine
has been instructing the dispatchers to monitor how many business cards (which
simply have the company name and phone number on them) that the drivers leave
with. I can only begin to
speculate the reason for this.
Catherine has a reason for everything. Reasons that she understands.
And
for the oil, when I do check it, which is done rather infrequently, it often
needs several quarts. But usually I
don’t check it at all, I just dump in a few quarts – there’s always room. I am expected to fill out a log
specifying how much I take.
The rule is two. I grab six
and go on my way.
.jpg)
.jpg)
