Déjà Vu

I glanced at my watch. It read a quarter past six. Where’s that damn bus? It was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. I sighed and adjusted my broad shoulders trying to get as comfortable as I can on those horrid outdoor benches. It’s not like I was overenthusiastic about getting to work. If I made all the decisions, I would work at home and watch as the paychecks roll in. No, I just like knowing where I’m going and when I’m going. Surprises give me a heart attack unless they end leaving me with a few extra bucks in my bank account. I’ve been called fat, incompetent, and worse, but I just don’t care anymore. They don’t know. They have no right to judge me based on how I act. It’s not my fault I act that way, it’s theirs. If they would mind their own business and let me mind mine, they wouldn’t have to put up with anything. People make problems, no people, and no problems. It’s as simple as that.

The bus rounded that corner and rolled to a squeak. The engine hummed, egging on its passengers as if it couldn’t wait to get on the road again. I sucked in my gut and squeezed through the folding doors. I got through with awkward balance, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to. Those big macs tend to stay with you indefinitely, giving you plenty of practice, so I found out. I pushed my way to the back, wincing as I ran into every other seat. Finally I arrived at the only seat I fit well in, the middle back. It gives you plenty of leg room, plus, once people see an overweight man taking up half the row, they aren’t too eager to sit next to you.

The bus bumped along its course, giving me a bruise here and there. On more than one occasion, I heard a series of beeps and felt the bus sharply swerve around an idiotic driver. Whenever it happens, my heart stops for a second and an image of my dead body under a pile of rubble, pops into my head. I’ve sent in complaints to the city council, telling them to hire more levelheaded drivers, but they just give me a funny look, shake their head and say the infamous, “There’s nothing I can do, sir.”

Fortunately, the ride didn’t end with me under a pile of twisted steel, so it seemed like a good start to my day. The bus arrived at my stop and I took one more trip through those heart-pounding folding doors. I walked through the sliding glass doors into the modern office building. The occasional, “Mornin Bill,” is called from the river of people walking to their cubicles. I kept my head up and faced forward at all times. My eyes never meet contact, rather they glaze over the sea of heads mindlessly.

I stepped into the elevator and took it to the fifteenth floor. Finally it slowed to a halt, ending the session of awkward silence I had with my coworkers. I hurried to my cubicle and lounged on my plush rolling chair. My feet immediately propped themselves onto the desk. I reclined back, feeling tired and irritable. God, why am I even here? I don’t want to do any paperwork they slap on my desk. They should give it to those wild college grads who will literally do anything for 40k a year. I’ve been here for seven years. I deserve a break every once and awhile.

I stared at the rows of bobble-head football players I have lined up around my workspace, each one signed by their corresponding person. People have asked me why I go through all that trouble. I frown and say, “These guys are legends. They’re worth every cent you pay to meet them.” Then they tell me that they put their money in the stock market and savings accounts. I’m always baffled by that response. They don’t understand anything about the world we live in. Why the hell would they stuff their money into some large corporation or stock market crap? The government will just find a way take their money and use it to fund some doomed-to-die Medicare escapade. Why can’t they see that?

My boss walked over to me, as fast as those little sticks could carry him. He seemed to notice I was daydreaming, and took it upon himself to stop me and get me back to work. But I didn’t make it easy for him. He has been fighting an uphill battle ever since I got here. I’m that’s just the way I like it.

“Bill!” he said as entered my cubicle. Only a bald tip of his head stood out above the padded walls. “I need that report I asked you to write.”

I frowned, pretending to be ignorant in the matter, “What report?”

“The one I asked you to write for today. I need it for my meeting in…”

He glanced at his watch. It sat like a plate on his thin hairy wrists. “Seven minutes.”

I gave him my infamous blank look.

“Where is it, Bill?” My boss’s fuse was running short.

“Umm,” I said, trying to stall.

“No ‘umm’, Bill. Give me the report!”

“I don’t have it. I forgot to finish it yesterday.” I said it quickly, deciding to get it over with. Not because I was afraid of his wrath. No sir. It was quite the opposite. I was afraid I would laugh my ass off when steam floods out of his eyes His temper tantrums are freakin hilarious, but you have to be careful. A good many people have gotten themselves fired by doing that.

“Goddamn it, Bill,” his voice rose to a squeak, “How could you do this to me again and again. I needed that report and you can’t seem to write it for me.

His balding head reddened to a crimson. He stomped his feet on to the ground like a child complaining to his mother.

“I need to have that report! Otherwise I have to walk into the board room empty-handed. What do you think that will do to my reputation? This is the last time I will be made an idiot in front of the heads of our company, all because of your goddamn laziness. Next time you don’t do what I give you, you’re fired,”

My boss stomped out of the cubicle and disappeared into his office. Once he was gone, I couldn’t help myself from laughing. I didn’t take what he said too seriously. My boss was known to make idle threats.

My iPhone vibrated on the desk next to me. It was from my coworker, Rachel, whom I got along with better than most. It read, “Heard you got the temper tantrum lol.”

I smiled to myself, unlocked my phone and texted a replied, “Ya, hes jus being an asshole. But he sure is as funny as hell :D.”

My phone rang seconds later, “Ik, I guess u jus have to deal with him. No way round it.”

“True enough,” I texted back.

I spun myself around in my chair, watching the ceiling with dizzying eyes. There was a million and one things I should have been doing in that moment, all chirping at me inside my head, but I ignored every single one of them. It wasn’t worth my time anyway. What, oh what, should I do? Then I decided on something.

I grabbed a piece of paper from a filing cabinet, took out a pencil and began to draw. My hand moved the pencil around the paper, hovering over it one or two inches, as I wrapped my head around the general shape of the figures. The tip of the pencil slide effortlessly across the blank paper. The graphite hissed as I sketched out the light outlines. The marks grew darker and thicker, transforming the 2D picture into a 3D figure. I finished the drawing with a few miniature details and erased unwanted lines. I held it out at arm’s length and studied it at a distance. The drawing was of a hand, holding a cup of steaming coffee that seemed to diffuse the bitter smell from the paper. On one of the fingers was a ring laid with a decent size diamond that glistened in the heavy light. The idea for the drawing came to me in some flash of creativity. It’s not something that I can explain, and nor do I try to. It comes to me on occasion and when it does I’m grateful.

I tilted my head to get a better view. Not bad, but not my best. I folded the paper into quarters and stuffed it into my pocket and forgot about it for a time after. I sighed and messaged my forehead extensively, as if that alone could get rid of my drowsiness. Do I really have to work? The more sensible side of me finally won over the dilemma. I managed to squeeze in two hours of writing dull reports before my brain gave up on me, screaming at me to stop thinking. This time, there was no disobeying its command.

Before I could even decide to do next, my fingers were already typing “YouTube” into google search. There couldn’t be a better way to spend the rest of my day. Movie trailers, awkward vines, and music videos popped up onto my screen. I would find an interesting video then find another one in the list of suggestions down below.

Once the day was over, I had leapfrogged across the vast collection of YouTube videos, hardly putting a dent in what the website had to offer. It seemed like for every video I watched I would find two more that I would want to see. I was a regular visitor in the world of the internet and more often than not, I would get lost in it, to the point where I can’t see where I began. That’s what it was for me, an unlimited supply of entertainment, something to take my mind off those useless reports.

Precisely at six, I immediately snapped out of my digital daydream. I snatched my briefcase from my workspace and hurried out of my cubicle. As always, once the day is over, I’m one of the first to reach the elevator. I guess no one is as eager as me to get out of the building and get home, though I can’t see why.

The ride home was the same it had been on the way to work, a heart pounding ride that nearly ended with me at the morgue. I know, my outlook on life is very optimistic. In any case, I walked into my house that evening and looked around that the space I was living in. Empty take-out Chinese boxes, bags of flamin hot Cheetos, and McDonald’s soda cup, infected the house like a plague. They had seemed to creep in every space they could fit their plastic bodies into. Once I made my way upstairs, those plastic cups turned into oversized football jerseys, splattered with bear and nacho cheese. My bed looked more like an oversize laundry basket, than a sleeping platform. By that didn’t matter to me at all. Sure I’ve thought about cleaning it up, but I never got around to doing it. I guess, even if I did, it would be what it was in less than a week. I collapsed on my bed. The old springs creaked under my weight. In fifteen minutes I was out like a light.

When I woke the following morning, I felt more tired than when I went to bed. Why the hell do I go to bed in the first place? I glanced at the clock. It read five forty-five. I guess I’ll miss the six o’clock bus. Oh well, it really doesn’t matter if I’m late, considering I would have spent that time watching YouTube anyway.

I dragged myself out of bed and scarfed down a protein bar. It turned out I did make the six o’clock bus, because, like the day before, it was twenty minutes late.

I went to my cubicle, more tired than usual. I needed something to wake me up. Coffee. That cures everything. I’m not really a coffee guy, but hey, when tiredness calls, you’ve got to do something about it. My legs felt like stilts, as I walked to the coffee station. While I poured myself a cup of coffee, a duet of high-pitched laughs took place behind me.

“OMG, Liz!” said a voice, “I can’t believe it! Congrats, congrats!”

“Oh thank you, Meg,” said another, “I so glad you stayed with me all this time.”

“You’re my BBF, Liz. I wouldn’t even thinking about leaving you.”

Then I heard a sound, I couldn’t really tell if was laughing or crying. Whatever it was I hoped they wouldn’t bring their emotional crap, into my blissfully emotionless life. Of course, I was wrong.

“Bill, Bill!” shouted of the young women. I tried to ignore them but it was hopeless. They surrounded me like a pack of wolves circling around a deer.

“Look, I’m engaged!” Liz let out of scream of excitement that cancelled out my brain waves for a few seconds. She held out the hand holding her coffee cup.

I frowned. That cup. The ring. It seems familiar. Déjà vu. I grappled with thought, trying to get it to bubble up to consciousness. It was like sticking your hand into a narrow gap trying to reach something you most desperately want. Then it struck me. The drawing!

“Don’t move,” I said. The girls frowned but obeyed.

I whipped out the piece the paper and unfolded it with unsteady hands. I looked at the paper, then at her hand then back again. The image matched reality with phenomenal detail. The angle of the mug, the ring, and the way the fingers were lanced together, all of it, identical. My mind started popped up questions in rapid-fire mode. Was this happening? What does this mean? Was this some random coincidence? If it was a coincidence, how did I create a drawing simply identical to a scene in real life? How?

“Are you okay, Bill?” asked Meg.

I shook my head in attempt to clear the supernatural incident from my mind.

“Yeah,” I muttered, “I’m fine. Congrats Liz,”

The last line was said half-heartedly. Both girls gave me a disgusted look, before walking away and becoming completely reengaged in their conversation.

I rushed back to my cubicle. Could I do it again? The thought was intoxicating. I reached into my filing cabinet and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. I guess, it’s worth a try. This time, I’ll give myself a few extra toys to play with. I laughed as I pulled out pencil. My hand shook with anticipation. I started to draw.

I drew from behind a desk, consisting a sheet of expensive mahogany, on looking a massive office only rich people get to use. I lined the side wall with…
“What are you doing, Bill?” asked a voice, and I hated that voice.
I looked up and sure enough, a young man with a welcoming grin and a head full of hair looked down at me.
“You know,” he said, “I thought a man of your position, would spent his day working not doodling.”
“Get the hell out of here, Harry.” I snapped at him. “I don’t want you here.”
He pushed back his gelled hair with a swift motion and straightened his expensive suit. He was a spoiled brat, who got a job here only because of his parents’ connection. Why couldn’t he man up and find his own living somewhere else?
“I heard you got yelled at by your boss,” said Harry, “It’s because you’ve been doing stuff like this. If you want to keep your job, you’d better start working, or one day you’ll find yourself on unemployment benefits.”
I turned on him, “Why don’t you worry about your business and I’ll worry about mine.”
“Fine,” he said. “Just trying to help.”
“Well I don’t want your help,” I growled back.
Finally, Harry turned and strutted away.
Okay, where was I? I gathered my thoughts and continued to draw. I lined the wall expensive silk suits I would wear to fancy business occasion. I drew an apple laptop on the desk, something I’ve always wished I could afford. Beside that I drew the icing on the cake, a set a keys with the Ferrari logos stamped onto them. I’ve always wanted a Ferrari. Now would be a perfect time to get one. I added in of few of the realistic details and voila! I looked at drawing and kissed it before setting it carefully into my briefcase. You, my friend, are gonna make me rich.
On my way to lunch that day, I noticed something posted on the billboard. It said there was a high corporate position available. Below it stated that the person will be chosen from the current group of employees, and no one should bother applying. I looked at the salary. Boy, that’s one good chuck of cash. I smiled to myself. This might just work.
By the time break was over, I was giddy with excitement. On my why back to my desk, I felt a body bump into me while papers flapped to the ground.
“Whoops, sorry, Bill,” said a voice.
“Rachel,” I said, bending down to help her. I glanced down at them. They looked like some sort of costumer complaint nonsense. Rachel snatched them from my hand before I had a chance to read further. “What are you in a hurry for?”
“Oh you know,” she lined her papers together and tucked them under your arm, “I have to deliver these papers to my boss.” She started at me for a few seconds then frowned.
“Are you alright? It looks like you lost you cool,”

Strangely enough, I hadn’t noticed the crazed grin on my face, nor the sporadic twitches that resulted from high amounts of adrenaline.

“Oh yeah,” I said, “I’m fine.” I took a deep breath and relaxed by body, trying to make myself appear sane.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, “You sure?”

I nodded.

“Well, do me a favor and take it easy today. It looks like you need it.”

With that she turned and walked away. I seems like she was eager to leave that conversation though I couldn’t imagine why.

I walked back to my cubicle and tried to keep my mind off what was to happen. I watched YouTube video after YouTube video, but nothing seemed to calm my sea of anticipation. The vines and elaborate prank lost their digital trance, and for once I was bored by them. A single thought ran through my head. When are they coming? When are they coming? When are they coming? Whe—

“Bill Davis?”

I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat. There he was, standing in a manner of importance. He was here to change my life.

“Yes?” I said.

“My name is Phil Lyon, Director of Instate Operations, would you please follow me?’

He left, without waiting for a response. I stood up with a grin and followed him. My face with alit with enthusiasm, impossible to contain. He led me to an office and closed the door. I looked around the room and gasped. This room was laid out exactly like my drawing. The windows, the door, and desk, were all in the right place. I glance to my left and sure enough, suits as lined up along the wall. God, this is it. This is it. It’s happening!

“Mr. Davis,” said Mr. Lyon, “Please have a seat,”

Without thinking, I jumped onto the black rolling chair that sat behind the empty desk.

“Bill?”

“I know, Mr. Lyon, I know,” I said, putting up a hand to stop him from saying anything more.

“I’m honored and I accept. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked for this, day in and day out. I’ve spent years trying to get here. I think you’ve made the right decision. I promise I will do my upmost to fill this position. I won’t let you down.”

Mr. Lyons blinked, utterly stunned. He regained his composed and began to open his briefcase.

“You know, Mr. Davis, you are the perfect person for the position,”

I lightly touched my hand to my chest, pretending to me by overwhelmingly flattered. It was all working out, all of it. I smiled triumphantly.

“If you hadn’t been fired from your current job.”

“What?!” I jolted in horror. He’s kidding! He’s got to be!

“That’s right, Bill,” said Mr. Lyon, “Your fired!”

My enthusiastic persona faded like a dream from a wakened conscience. Is this really happening?

“Why?” I breathed. The news had shook me to the core. My life of luxury was slipping through my. How did this go so wrong?

Mr. Lyon pulled out a series of paper from his briefcase.

“Jim Karen, your boss, in case you’ve forgotten, filed a series of reports on your… embarrassing work habits. He’s given specific examples here, backed with conformation provided by some of your coworkers.”

He shuffled the paper, looking at each one in turn, before slapping them on the desk.

I peered at the reports, and my heart froze. Immediately I recognized them. They had fallen out of Rachel’s arms just this morning. How could she?

“The reports mention that you’ve spent countless hours surfing the web, all the while shirking the duties of your position. It seemed to us for a while that Jim was at fault, he failed to give us the reports we needed. He had submitted several complaints of your childish behavior, but it was only after Rachel offered her support that we agreed to investigate. Sure enough, once we checked your computer, we found that you’ve spent more hours on YouTube then you have sleeping. The discovery was embarrassing. If this is what are employees are spending their time doing, I’m ashamed to be a part of this corporation.”

My face paled. This was real, as real as taxes in the springtime.

“Please,” I said, “I need this job. This is my life.”

“Well, then it seems like your life is over. You should have thought about that before you spent your work hours watching football highlights,” Mr. Lyon retorted.

“So who gets the job?” I asked. My voice as faint as a ridden of candle smoke.

Mr. Lyon packed the reports back in his briefcase. “Someone more capable than you.”

Then the door clicked and a man walked into the office, beaming at Mr. Lyon.

“Harry,” welcomed Mr. Lyon, “Congratulations on the new position,”

“Thanks Phil,” said Harry smiled a grin that only came with handsome youth. “I will do my best.”

“I’m sure you will,” laughed Mr. Lyon, firmly shaking his hand.

Harry turned his attention to me, looking surprised. God, I wanted more than anything to knock those pearl-white teeth out of his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” asked Harry, “I heard you got fired,”

I didn’t say anything in response, but that’s all he needed to realize it was true.

“I’m sorry, Bill,” he said, completely insincere. Then he gave me a pitying smile. “Better luck next time,”

I shook with a blazing anger. Get this guy out of here!

“Well, I guess all this is mine now,” he said. Harry pulled out his apple computer and keys to his Ferrari and set them down on the desk in front of me.

The flames of madness froze inside my soul. A pit fell in my stomach, sickening me like a dose of poison. I closed my eyes and shuddered in sheer horror. Déjà vu.