I stare at my greedy, walrus of a Manager and wonder whether today will be the day where I snap. I’ve worked through several stress balls, regularly take prescription painkillers and shout into the sink. These no longer stifle my rage.
He stands behind me, looking at my screen and leaning on my chair. I swivel quickly to send him to the floor. This gives me a fleeting pleasure but my anger soon returns. I think of his greed to deny me the pay rise I was promised and instead offer me a £360 pay rise.
I walk the corridors, kicking the walls and pass my Manager, who asks if I’ll hit target this quarter. I ask if he’ll give me a proper pay rise this quarter. I imagine how I’d dispose of such an obese body. I’d definitely need a trolley to move it. I plan the logistics of his murder with an attention to detail that was flagged as sorely lacking in my recent appraisal.
I put my murderous plans on ice and have one more attempt at working hard. Sadly this only lasts one phone call where I become verbally abusive to a customer and tell him never to call again. I sign off with a colleague’s name and break my receiver slamming it down. My Manager times his passive aggressive banter poorly. “Uh Uh, start selling,” the obese moron states. I stare at him with growing insanity and growl.
The Customer Service Supervisor starts her awful tutting and I decide that I must dispose of them both.
Final piece next Monday: How to get away with murder
Written by Martin Stocks | @Stocks1986
Martin runs our collaborative story High Society. Read our latest piece here.