Specialist

You, see, Estella, you’re retarded and in your mind anything that is white is racist by nature. Now, maybe that’s a valid point. Look at me – I don’t like you because you’re retarded. But, then again, retards aren’t a race. So, I guess I’m just hateful. Either way, a robot is

Just thinking about it confuses me. It’s almost as though explaining it, even in my mind, makes me retarded.

I’m not sure I can remember my telephone number now.

Coupled with a vicious sense of vengeance “ Drop the Monkey project!”

Why?

“Because if Monkeys won’t do me a favor, I’m not doing them one.”

But, it’s the CEO’s sweetheart project, you sure you don’t want an hour to think about this?

“No – JUST DO IT!”

Megan and Jonathan are the other two I work with.

Megan is like me, but she’s quiet about it. She depends on me to call Sally and Big Red on things. Which, considering I don’t do a helluva lot around here, I take it in stride.

Jonathan is worse than me when it comes to working, but his charm and good looks get him by.

Barring all of them, it could be George that’s tapping me on my shoulder.

George is from the Flying Monkey department. He’s a dick. Out of everyone I’ve ever worked with at Dynacorp, he’s the only one who resembles the mean boss you see on TV.

He’s so mean; let me put it this way: he’s not even my boss and yet he yells at me.

I work on various usecases for his department and he’s more than happy to come by and tell me what I’m doing wrong and what hasn’t been done. If it weren’t for George, I might actually not even ever have to work while I’m here.

I decide its George from the Flying Monkey department.

I turn.

BINGO!

I'm correct. It's George.

"Denim?"

I look at him blank faced. I'm purposely looking as dumb as possible. I don't want George to think that I could possibly answer his question. "Huh?" I ask.

"Denim, how is the usecase for the T9 going? I just wanted to touch base and see if you had had a chance to meet with Melatonin in Armory?"

"Melatonin...." It takes me this long to figure out who he's talking about.

BINGO!

"Yeah, I talked to her last week." I realize I was supposed to get in touch with her two days ago, but forgot because I shot up in the bathroom that day...and yesterday...and today. I reflexively continue "I told her I'd get with her today and I've just been really swamped."

My screen saver turns off as my Poker Bonanza pops up with a reminder that it’s a new deal. George looks at it and I look at it and then I pick up the phone and ask for Melatonin's phone number.

"4545." And he walks away. He walks away in a way that tells me my manager will be notified about the poker bonanza.

I decide to hate him. I go back into my catalogues of crimes against Denim Lee by George and find that George has made me work a full 8-hour day twice, has gotten me written up for wearing a Corona T-shirt to work, and is friends with Jim Taylor.