All I had to do was make it three more hours. My boss stands in front of us chanting "blah, blah, blah" at me and about twenty other co-workers, pointing a metal rod at some graph that makes absolutely no sense to me right now. This will be the third day I've had no sleep. I'm dizzy, starving, bored and beginning to hallucinate. The white walls begin to warp and twist into humanesque faces. My boss' height begins altering slightly. The boardroom seats start becoming carnivorous, noshing slowly on my butt cheeks. I giggle aloud for no reason, and it takes me a few moments to realize that my boss has ceased talking and now everyone is looking at me.
"Mr. Yan, take a few minutes and get some coffee from the front desk, hum?" My boss states in a near-monotone voice, folding the rod up and placing it down on the large oak conference table.
"Uh? Oh, sorry, Mr. Willard, I'm afraid I'm rather ill today." I wanted him to tell me to go home early, but with my boss, that was like asking the U.S. Government to give Saddam Hussein a tactical nuke for his birthday.
"Hum. We'll take a five-minute smoke break, alright?" Mr. Willard escorts the dozen or so stuffed shirts out the door, then turns to give me one last look. "Mr. Yan, I expect you to be a little more alert when we resume this meeting. I suggest you get a cup of coffee in the meantime, hum?"
I put my head down, feeling like I'm about to pass out from sheer exhaustion. "Yes, sir." He just nods at me and leaves, closing the door behind him. How did I get here? I started working for this stupid company about three months ago as a mailroom lackey. How I got promoted so quickly is beyond me. Sure, I was excited about it at the time, but the pressure they've been putting on me lately has been unreal. The thought of drinking another drop of coffee or popping another NoDoze makes me sick to my stomach, and yet those three more hours were staring me in the face and I felt as though I'd die before making it to the end of the day.
I begin drifting off, barely hearing the door click open. "Damon, are you alright?" I can't look up to see who it is, but the voice seems vaguely familiar. "Damon, c'mon, wake up." Whoever he is, he's shaking me awake. If I had the strength, I'd stand up and sock him in the teeth.
"Whaaaaat…?" I whine, glancing up to see Rowan Dansky, my immediate boss glaring at me with genuine concern in his washed-out blue eyes. Rowan and I are on a first-name basis. He is the only person I halfway trust in this backstabbing conglomerate of assholes, in fact, he was the one who originally got me this promotion. I've always thought him a little young to be heading a Computer Programming department, when in fact he's in his early 20's, mere months older than I, but he's a great boss and an even better human being. He's always gone out of his way to be nice to me.
Still keeping his hand on my shoulder, he glances at the door and slides a palm over his gelled black hair. "What's wrong with you, man? You look terrible. Willard just came up to me and told me you were laughing in here for no reason."
"I…need…sleep." I rub one of my bloodshot eyes and put my head back down, my shaggy black hair falling onto my wrinkled sleeves.
"I don't know if I can send you home, Damon, the big wig will have a sperm whale. You know, any other day when he's not around, you know I would…" He stops and I hear him sigh as he walks around to the back of my chair, squeezing my shoulders comfortingly. "I'll see what I can do, but I make no promises. You know how he is."
I lift my head just a little, putting a hand over one of his. "It's all I can ask…thank you."
He pauses for a long moment and merely sighs, rubbing my shoulders slightly. "No problem, Damon. Just please, go get some coffee or something. C'mon, sit up. I'll go bring you back a cup." He rubs my shoulders harder when he sees I'm not responding. I can hear a smile in his tone. "Alright, up-see-daisy now. C'mon, work with me here."
"Can't." I mumble. "Dying."
He takes a long, deep breath and sighs, slipping his hands off my shoulders. "Alright…look, I can get into trouble for this, but I'm going to take you into my office and you can rest there. I'll just have Martin brief you on the rest of the meeting tomorrow or something. Okay?" I nod slightly. He grabs me from under my arms and helps me to my feet with a soft grunt. I wrap an arm around him as he helps me out the door and across the hall to his small office. The room was just big enough for an L-shaped desk, a chair and about ten metal filing cabinets stacked on top of each other almost as sloppily as the mountain of papers on his desk and computer. He sits me down in his swivel chair and clears a little area for me to put my head down. He then glances out his door several times nervously. "Alright, stay here. If anyone asks, you feel nauseous and feverish. I'll go talk to Willard." He flips off the light so only the soft glow of the hallway light illuminates the room and takes off. That's when I pass out cold.
__
"Damon?" I hear Rowan's soft voice and feel a gentle nudge to lull me from slumber. "C'mon, Damon, I let you sleep for as long as I could. You have to go home now." I open my eyes, rubbing the cobwebs from them. The whole place was dark and I could only make out a slight silhouette of Rowan's lean frame standing over me. For the first time today, I discover just how well he fills out that cotton blue button-down shirt.
"What…time is it?" I sit up, feeling worlds better than I had that afternoon.
He smiles at me, and there's a kindness there that makes me smile back at him without even realizing it. "It's almost 9. They're going to lock up the parking lot, so we'd better leave soon. C'mon, I'll walk you downstairs."
I stand up, stretching my arms and torso. "Why are you so good to me, Rowan?"
"Because you're so cute and loveable." He snickers, putting an arm around me as he walks me to the elevator.
I whip up the gayest voice I could muster to tease him back. "Oh, baby!" We both bust out laughing. I stop after a moment when I see him get his car keys out of his briefcase. "Shit! I forgot my bag! I'll be right back." I run off just as the elevator dings. He calls out after me to hurry up. I run over to my work station, which is basically just a few inches of desk with a big computer on it. I look for my bag but it isn't there. I think to myself that Rowan must've put it in his office so no one will go through my bag while I was asleep. Smart man. I quickly make my way over to his office and flip on the light so I don't have to go bumbling around in the dark looking for it. Low and behold, there it is, sitting right by the other side of his desk. As I bend down to retrieve it, I see a crumpled up piece of paper sticking out of the garbage with my name on it. Of course, I have to peek.
//To Whom It May Concern: I would like to respectfully recommend an employee of mine for the opening on your Board of Directors. His name is Damon E. Yan and he's been working for this company for just over three months. In that time span he has been promoted from mailroom clerk to personally assisting me in managing the Computer Programming Department. He has the potential to fill the shoes of retiree Arnold Manning and in my opinion, he will bring the success of this company to new and higher levels. Thank you for your consideration. Sincerely, Rowan P. Dansky Senior Programmer\\
Holy crap! Talk about going out of your way for someone…this is unbelievable! I suddenly felt embarrassed, thinking that the Board of Directors will believe I had him write this recommendation for me. I smooth out the paper and stick it in my bag, flipping the light out and running back to the elevator. He's still waiting for me inside, pressing the Open button.
