37. Suggestion Box
Dumb HR logic.
Woke up face-down on the duvet, fully clothed, one shoe off. Mouth like wet lint. No memory of getting home.
My face looked blotchy. Eyes red. Tender.
Tried to piece things together in the shower. Couldn’t stay upright. Sat on the tiles until the water went cold. Tried closing my eyes, but it made me more frightened.
Had to get a taxi to work. There was an email from HR waiting.
Subject: Inappropriate Language
A young secretary found a note in the kitchen this morning. Stuck to the fridge. It made her cry.
“We’d like to remind all staff that abusive messages—even those intended as jokes—have no place in the workplace."
They put a picture of it in the email. Now everyone gets the chance to cry.
It’s definitely my handwriting. Remember writing it. Sort of. I stand by it.
Wasn’t me that triple-underlined it, though.
Decided not to reply. Needed coffee.
Saw the boss’s empty office on the way to the pantry. Lightweight. If you want to be a man in the evening, you’ve got to be a man in the morning.
He’s not the only one AWOL. Cowards. The few who made it are on mute.
A guy toasting an onion bagel gave me a little salute.
When I got back to my desk, someone had left a Polaroid from the party on my keyboard.
A woman in the foreground smiling into the lens. Pretty. Wonder why I’ve not noticed her before. In the background, slightly out of focus, you can see me and the boss. My fists raised.
No wonder he’s hiding today.
Finished my coffee in one go and immediately needed to lie down. Sat in the stairwell for a while.
My phone pinged. Another email from HR. And a Slack message. Now they’re calling.
Looks like more trouble. Can feel my heart pounding in my teeth.
Am going home. Without my phone. Lie low. Will deal with this on Monday.