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Tamara
My nose is stuck in a pile of papers and I’m looking between the reports and the monitor. Trying to make a spreadsheet with the machines that’ve been tampered with, I sigh as this is tedious moving the information to the spreadsheet.
Don’t get me started on some of the guys' handwriting skills. It appears that a toddler did this report, and in crayon, to boot. I shake my head and put it aside to ask the oilman responsible for this atrocity.
“Hello,” says a scratchy voice from my doorway. As I look up at her, she trots her ass right in front of my desk, carrying that little snarky dog of hers. The animal literally goes everywhere.
Charlotte, the boss’s wife, stands before my desk, a brooding tower of shit. This particular piece of shit is dressed in her usual way. Up. I’ve never seen the women wear jeans and t-shirt. You might as well toss out gym shoes. Always looking like someone heading to a wedding, only it’s every day.
I wonder who she’s fucking these days. I’ve been hearing it from a reputable source, that there’s been many flings with younger toned men. Who would want to be with that thing? And her little dog, too.
She probably has to pay them for sex.
Behind her stood a mousy sort of man, her personal secretary, Timothy. She’s always leading him around like he’s on a leash to be at her every beck and call. I wave to him and he smiles back, waving.
Placing my sights on the woman before me, I see a manly sort of woman. Maybe she had a sex change? She’s never really been that pretty, but she seems to think she’s God’s gift to men. “For what do I have the honor of your presence?”
“Tamara, be a dear and answer me something,” she sits in the chair across from me. “Is there any truth to the rumors going around about equipment being sabotaged?”
“Yes, there actually is,” digging through some papers on my desk, I hand her the report Ken did yesterday.
“What am I looking at here, dear?” She feigns politeness. She really isn’t that pleasant to be around. At all.
“It’s a report that was filed yesterday. And this isn’t the first one. Not only rigs have been tampered with. Some crown blocks and pump jacks, too. I think that one of the trucks is still not working.”
She takes the paper from my hand, scanning it before handing it back to me. Her eyebrow arches in a peculiar way, that I know better than to laugh at. “Is that so? Are there any steps to secure the equipment or find the perpetrator?”
I nod my head and say, “Yes. In fact, last night, a decision was made to enact certain measures in order to catch who’s doing the damage.”
Charlotte's eyes gaze at me as she nods her head slowly. “And what are these measures that are being taken?”
I don’t feel it necessary to tell Charlotte about the installation of cameras. “I wasn’t privy to that information.”
With that, she utters an audible “Hmpf,” stands and turns her nose up into the air. She steps out of my office and goes two doors down to the boss’s office. I hear her slam his door open as she enters his office unannounced and begins yelling at him, not caring who heard.
I could tell she’s giving a good what-for to the boss. But what it’s about, I can’t tell. Charlotte always humiliates him in front of people and behind closed doors. She’s an evil, vile creature. I see that Timothy is still standing in the doorway and he smiles at me, very shyly.
Poor guy. Having to follow Mrs. Hell on Heels all day every day would change a person. “Would you like some coffee?” I ask, feeling sorry for the timid man. Working under a bitch like that would make anyone cringe. He smiles and nods his head.
I get him a cup of coffee as I still try to make out what Charlotte is screaming about. This place is absolutely bonkers. Good thing I’m here to round up the clowns. And clean up the crap laying around all the time.
I hand him the coffee and offer him a chair. No sooner than he tries to get a sip, Charlotte rushes past my door. “Come, Timothy,” she orders him like he’s an indentured servant. As I watch him go, he turns and waves bye.
Honestly, how can one human treat another human in such a manner? Why would he even stay?
I begin the process of clearing my desk and filing things away. How do I end up with everything in my lap? I know, because I can’t say ‘no’ and I feel responsible. Someday, I’ll stop it all.
Placing pencils in my top drawer, I grab a wet wipe and dust the desk off. Looking around the office, I look to see if everything is in order. Nope. Timothy’s cup of coffee is still on the table next to where he sat. I toss the sanitary wipe in the trash and take the mug to the kitchen to clean it.
This entire time, I kept Timothy in the back of my mind. Maybe I should offer him a position in my office. I definitely could use some help, that’s for sure. I roll my eyes and go back to my hole in the wall.
Claiming my personal items, I leave and head toward home. On the way, I recall the conversation between Charlotte and me. Her interest in what the situation is and the measures that we’re taking is highly suspect.
Pulling into my lot, I decide that I’m going to go back there tonight, even with cameras recording. I’ll just walk around the area to see what I can find. Or who.
