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Chapter 23: Holiday

Dear Journal

So it seems that work is closed now for “the holidays”, although I wish someone had told me before I sat in 2 hours of traffic to try and get to the office by 8am. I arrived to find the office completely abandoned except for three completely inept sentries at the mighty boom gate.

“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked the one sentry who appeared to be the most senior of the trio (I based his seniority purely on the fact that he had a clipboard). It also struck me how popular the name “trainee” was amongst the group, according to the guards’ name tags.

“It is closed” he replied. “You must go”

I wondered for a second if he had even heard my question or if he realised that neither of these automated responses gave me any sort of closure. I felt it best to simply reverse out of the entrance way and go somewhere… but where?

Although I had always dreamed of not having to go to work, I had never actually thought through what I would do if I ever actually got the chance. Suddenly an endless deluge of possibilities streamed though my subconscious bouncing around my mind like a Powerpoint presentation with too many of those cheap animations that chicks love to use.

To the mall? To the beach? Back to bed? Is it too early to start drinking? How long is the office going to remain closed? Did the hordes eventually overthrow Centrifico Technologies? Were they aided by the air duct Wizard?

I decided to go home to change out of my work clothes and to setup a game plan on how best to use the time off.

I drove back to the apartment slowly strangely enjoy the commute through the city. The world seems different during working hours (probably because I have never been out of the office during working hours). Everyone seems more carefree and yet actively directed by purpose.

Once I was back at my apartment and changed into more suitable attire I sat on the couch and started watching TV…

About 2 minutes later I had skipped through all 124 channels and realised that there is absolutely nothing good on TV during the day. I also questioned why I spend so much money on satellite TV when I’m never home to watch it. While 50% of the channels were showing reruns of shows no one wanted to watch the first time they were on, 20% were showing infomercials selling products no one needs by demonstrating product characteristics no one would ever use (like a knife that can cut through a car tyre or a juicer that can liquidise a book) while the remainder of the channels were either kids shows; religious debates or in foreign languages (or all 3 simultaneously)

Just as I was about to switch off the TV a sudden and unfamiliar sound reverberated through the apartment. As the echoes subsided I looked around for the source of the peculiar sound, but there was nothing but silence. Then again, just as suddenly the sound repeated itself, only this time it was followed by a few loud thumps on the door. That sound must have been the door bell.

As I walked towards the door, I was reminded of how sad my existence had become that I have not had a single visitor to the apartment. Except for Stu pizza delivery boy (but he’s only 16 and his skin resembles his wares)…

I opened the door and stared up at the familiar silhouettes of none other than…

“Mom and Dad?”

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Posted by on July 25, 2011 in journal

 

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