Monday, 7. June 2010 3:14
During my tour for a new job, years ago, I was led to my
veal cage desk at the end of a long and winding maze of identical cubicles. I worked there for about a year. Each day I shaved a little less time off the arduous task of locating my personal paper stack in purgatory. Sadly, that was the highlight of each day.
Early on, the one constant that eased this “commute” was the unoccupied cube across from mine. Reaching this spot meant just make a right and sit. Then the task of pretending to work could commence. One day I asked Boxer Dan, who was fake heaving empty boxes around, if there were plans for anyone to ever occupy that space. He replied, “That’s Maris’s desk”, and off he walked. Like I should know who that is.
I noticed people asking questions about Maris when hovering near my *constant* like, “When does Maris get back from Belize?” “Did you hear Maris is doing doggy yoga with her Whippet?”. Then, I got it! This was a Frazier funny! No one ever saw Maris. I couldn’t wait to play. When Sighs-Too-Much Randall mentioned to Needs-A-Lip-Razor Karen that things seemed to finally be over for Maris and her husband, I quickly chimed in, “Well you know, he didn’t marry her for her money. That was just a bonus.”
Crickets chirped and it became evident the only one playing this game was me. Maris did indeed exist. She did indeed vacation in Belize and took downward facing dog pose to a new level. She did indeed get divorced. And as luck would have it, she worked off site most of the time, coming in only on an occasional weekend. I indeed began wearing a paper bag over my head and was appropriately known from then on as Bitch-With-A-Big-Mouth-Bag-On-Her-Head Kara.