A Boring Day at the Office

A typical day in what I like to call it, “Corporate bullshit”, certainly isn’t how I would want to spend my days. All I do all day is punch numbers and go home. Doesn’t that sound fulfilling? You go to college, get some stupid piece of paper and work at some job you hate until you kick rocks. I wish something in my day went a little differently, anything really. What I wouldn’t give to be a movie star sitting on disposable income and wasting the day away on being a great actor. Least I would have something going on everyday and still be rolling in dough. My office is a typical firm with multiple floors and several cubicles. Typing in a bunch of numbers constantly certainly isn’t ideal, but it gets the bills paid.

I share a cubicle with someone who sits right across from me; Bill Right. He tends to drive me up a wall, he certainly lives up to his last name. Always has to do right by someone or something, what a waste of time. When I walked into the office, I noticed he wasn’t at his desk and a sticky note was left on the monitor. It read “Out of the office today, will be back tomorrow!” I crumpled up his note and dunked it in the trash like I was some sort of famous basketball player. What do I care if Bill was out of the office? It’s not like I would miss him anyhow with his overly charismatic ways he feels he has to please people. Bill is the type of person to go running into a burning building and save someone’s fish; ridiculous. As I began logging into my accounts to start punching away into the endless void of numbers; I received a phone call.

Due to Bill being out of the office, all of his calls were directed to me if they were really important. “Barney and Will’s accounting firm. This is Dave Fallacious, how may I-” I am cut off by a hostile and harsh tone.

“Listen to me, Bill is coming into the office today at noon when everyone is having their lunch. Kill him. He has a pistol hidden in the bottom right drawer of his desk. Look through his files as well in his bottom left drawer. It’ll all make sense.”

The phone went radio silent and I was unsure if this was a crank call or not. I tried to trace the number back, but there was no such luck, it was as if the person never called me at all.

This had to be a joke right? Killing Bill? That just doesn’t seem like something that is necessary. What did Bill do to even cause him to have a target on his back? My hands began shaking and my legs felt like cement embedded into the floor. My mind was reeling and I felt like the room started to turn into a tilt-a-whirl. Should I check Bill’s desk? No right? Maybe I should just check to put my mind at ease. This has to be a joke and I refuse to believe otherwise.

I wheeled over in my chair to his right drawer. I opened it and moved all his sales papers out of the drawer to reveal that there was a latch at the bottom. I opened the latch and there it was; the pistol that was mentioned on the phone. Immediately, I slammed the drawer shut and wheeled back over to my desk. Some of my co-workers in other close by cubicles looked at me strangely and they continued their business, ignoring my sudden outburst.

This supposed nice guy had a gun in his desk? This guy only sits a few inches away from me and he had a pistol in his desk!? Panic started to take over and I couldn’t think one single thought clearly. I was just bitching about how my life sucked and now I wish I just didn’t receive this phone call. I got up from my desk and went to the bathroom. I splashed ice cold water on my face and it slowly dripped down my beard and eyelashes. I was splashing the water so rapidly, I got some water in my mouth and started to cough up the liquid. I looked in the mirror, the water dripping into my eyes made my face look disfigured in the mirror. I needed to splash water on myself one more time and take a breath.

After taking some breaths and making sure I was back on Earth, I wiped my face and went back out into the office. I looked at my watch, it was only 10AM? How could that be? Only an hour has passed? How? With each and every step, I felt like I was walking to my death sentence. Each step felt heavier and heavier. My legs began to shake like I was a newborn deer. As I sat back in my chair, I needed to take more time to process this. Who the hell even was that who called me? What does Bill have to do with such a shady character? Is this a dream because if so, it’s not funny in the slightest.

I grabbed a paperclip from my desk and formed it into a sharp and pointed object. I pierced my thumb with it as hard as I could and there it was; blood dripping out of my finger. I grabbed a tissue and pushed out the blood onto it to soak it up faster. This sadly was reality and not a dream, guess my little test really put things into perspective for me.

I threw my bloody tissue away and wheeled over to Bill’s left drawer to see what I was working with. As I opened the left drawer and saw the documents, I picked up a stack and began to read each one. This stack had a list of dates and when money was transferred into his personal account. Was this money from the firm and if so, how did he get away with this for so long? I noticed a lot of these transfers even went back to almost 5 years ago. I put the bank documents aside and began to investigate further, gambling debts and loan shark information was scattered all over the place. Money laundering? Murder? Gambling debts? Who is this man? Was Bill taking money from the firm to support his gambling addiction? I suppose everyone has their own demons, even if they are considered a representation of what a model citizen is.

Bill seemed to have some outstanding warrants with loan sharks and owed them millions of dollars. I noticed a bundle of letters written in what I hope was red ink, about how Bill needed to “pay up” and if he didn’t he would have to be “a target.” Investigating further, I noticed some pictures that I assumed to be black mail, were crime scene photos. Bill was seen putting his pistol into a long trench coat and a body was sprawled out in front of him with gunshot wounds to the head and chest. There was a pool of blood below the victim and Bill just had this unemotional facial expression, it gave me the chills.

This is crazy, I am not sure what to do with any of this information. I almost wish I didn’t get this stupid call because I was not prepared to kill someone or be killed today. Why would Bill hide all this information in his desk? I panicked once more, fear struck me like lightning. My whole body felt like it was ready to collapse; my heart pounded like a drum and sweat beaded down my face.

Getting up once again, all the noise of the phones and clacking of keyboards suddenly grew eerily silent for me. I took the elevator down to the front of the office to go outside and breathe some fresh air. Why isn’t this elevator going fast enough? I began tapping my shoe against the hard floor and it echoed in the elevator. I kept nervously looking at my watch like it was going fast forward time. It was 11:15 AM, did time actually speed up? Last I checked it was 10AM and now it was 11:15 AM? The elevator finally opened and my stomach began to do some jumping jacks.

Once I was outside of the office, I vomited right outside of the door. The liquid was bubbling in the hot sun and the smell was something I needed to move away from. After wiping my mouth of the leftover spit from puke, I walked over to my car. I turned my car on and blasted my air conditioner. I grabbed my cell phone and began to dial 9-1-1 because I thought this would make all of the problems go away. Before I could dial the last 1, my phone began to ring and there was no number attached to it. An unknown caller? Why? I answered it and waited to hear a voice before I could say anything. That same hostile voice just echoed in my mind and they began to talk in a low menacing tone.

“Calling 9-1-1 isn’t going to make this go away. Understand that Bill is the problem here. He owes us and he killed my son in cold blood. Bill must pay. Grab his pistol out of his desk and be prepared. He is not who you think…” Then the dial tone sound roared in my ear. I have never been so disturbed and uncomfortable in my life. Why do I have to kill him? How did these shady characters know I was going to dial 9-1-1? Bill murdering someone’s kid? But, Bill would never harm anyone, so why would he stoop this low?

Then again, the photo with his plain expression is very telling of his mental state. Was Bill truly capable of doing all of this? I opened my car door and vomited again. This was way too much for me to handle and I couldn’t bring myself to do this, but if I am saving people, even shitty one’s, I will try to suck it up. Staring down at my vomit, I just needed to reflect and clear my mind once more of what I was expected to do. I knew I had to clear everyone out of the building for their own safety and make sure they take this seriously.

I slammed my car door, straightened my tie and walked in with some newfound confidence. I told the woman at the front desk to evacuate everyone out of the office immediately due to a possible bomb threat thread that I saw online taking place in our area. The women shrieked a little and called everyone over the intercom about a possible threat to our lives. I heard various screams and several running feet trying to escape the building. Papers scattered everywhere due to people fleeing so rapidly.

Within 15 minutes, everyone had fled the premises and there was just the sounds of honking cars and people yelling obscenities out of their windows trying to leave. No one seemed to notice there was one car still parked and that person was me. I would rather it be kept that way. I walked into the elevator, one hand in my pocket and with my other hand, I pushed the elevator button.

The feeling I felt earlier in the elevator dissipated and I just knew that whatever happened next, was something I would do to protect people.

If this story is true about Bill, then honestly, one less of him running around in the city is for the best. The elevator dinged to my stop and I strode out of there awaiting my fate. Going back to my desk, I pulled out the gun in Bill’s drawer and checked the chamber. There were 4 bullets in this gun and I had to use them wisely. When I was in high school, my dad used to take me to the shooting range to practice firing a gun in case I would ever need or be in a position where I had to use it. I sat back down in my chair, gun in hand, just waiting for Bill’s arrival.

I checked my watch and it was now 11:55 AM and I heard some elevator doors open. I go under my desk now and hear shoes are getting closer and closer to me. Then they suddenly stop and I hear a loud bang like a firecracker. My hearing suddenly sounded metallic and like the TV static you hear when you hit the wrong input. “You figured me out Dave?”

Bill’s voice didn’t sound light hearted at all like how it usually was; he always spoke gently and had this warm welcoming aura to him. This Bill is cold, calculated and maniacal, this person was someone I didn’t know. He fired another shot and started to walk around at different speeds now, sometimes he would have a fast pace and then slow down.

“Oh Dave, you were always so easy to manipulate. I bet I drove you crazy with my act. With my fantastic acting you never paid attention did you? Lovable and kind-hearted Bill. Honestly a lot of people in this stupid building fell for my act. This life sickens me. People are so ignorant and don’t understand you need to get somewhere in this life. Sometimes taking extreme action is the only way to get what you want.”

I remained quiet and slowly moved away from where me and Bill shared a cubical. I wanted to be in range for a shot to take him down. He still continued his crazy babbling.

“Oh Dave, Dave Fallacious. Did you know your name resembles a mistake and possibly never making the right choice? Yes I have been laundering from the company as you saw. I have been gambling money I take from the company and get these mafia bosses’ attention. Such scum of the Earth, they deserve to be nothing, but shit under my shoe. I wanted their attention so they could fall for my traps, my latest kill was one of their sons. Man did that really get their attention. I have them in the palm of my hand and once I peg them off one by one, I will truly live up to my potential and be a true noble citizen in this society! Bill Right, he does right by us! Then I will have this city under my thumb as I "save" them!”

I accidentally bumped into a desk chair when moving to the other side of the office. Bill fired and a bullet flew past my face. That thing could have just ended my life if I were only an inch closer to it. I froze to hear Bill’s footsteps, but he just began laughing. With this, I began to move quicker, yet quietly to get to where I needed to be. I peered up from one of the cubicles to see where Bill was and he started to move faster to where our desks were.

Bill kicked his chair as hard as he could and began cursing under his breath. He had gone mad and what was he spewing on about? He isn’t going to do right by anyone with this mentality, he is going to do more harm than good. Bill fired yet another booming shot and started screaming. “C’MON DAVEY BOY!!! MR. WRONG! I KNOW YOU ARE IN HERE SOMEWHERE! COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!?”

Bill was frothing at the mouth at this point and his eyes seemed hungry for murder. Finally reaching the other side of the office, I peered above the table I had hid under and fired a shot once Bill was in range of me. I skimmed his suit, I noticed blood trickling down from his arm. He began to laugh demonically as he did before and fired a shot at me, he got my arm. My arm started protruding with blood, my navy blue button up, started to become stained with the scarlet liquid.

I ran toward the elevator and Bill fired a shot from his gun and I ducked in time before the bullet could hit me in the face. He must’ve been running out of shots by now which is what I wanted him to do. Bill started to run toward where I was and threw his handgun once he was close enough. This was something I was not prepared for and the gun pelted my forehead. I didn’t have enough time to react and Bill lunged for my throat and slammed my head against the elevator doors. “You will not stop me, you worthless and incompetent excuse for life.”

Bill felt some sort of gratification by watching life leave my eyes. I did what I needed to escape his grasp and kicked him in the groin. Bill tumbled to the ground and kicked me thinking that would stop me. I was still holding the gun and proceeded to fire three shots. Once in the head, his throat and Bill’s back. Blood poured out of his body and he started to struggle moving. The sound of Bill gurgling on his own blood, was something I wish I could erase from my mind. Bill soon stopped struggling and it was apparent he was not with us anymore.

I threw his pistol across the office and backed against the elevator. Slowly, I slumped to the floor and was reflecting on my choice. This man clearly was going to hurt so many more people and destroy lives along the way, at what cost? What lengths was he willing to go to accomplish such things? His last name may have been Right, but he certainly didn’t have the right intentions. This man was consumed by too much greed, power and in my own opinion boredom.

Maybe it was an ego trip to him and he almost got off to his last name. As I had thoughts fill my mind, I heard a familiar ring coming from my pocket. With all this commotion I had nearly forgotten I had my cellphone. The unknown caller that had dialed me before struck again. That haunting voice had returned.

“Thank you sir, I knew you wouldn’t make the wrong choice here. You have no idea what you have done today and for that I am eternally grateful.” Once he finished his sentence, I replied in huffs and gulps after this attack I had endured.

"Yeah, fuck you too.”

I hung up and flung my phone across the office. I sat and stared at Bill’s dead body. His blood started to spread and stain the soles of my shoes. I soon heard the sirens of the ambulance and the authorities. I closed my eyes and waited for them to come to my floor to witness such a scene before me. Bill mentioned how my last name meant “mistake” or “wrong”, but from my end Mr. Wrong had to show Mr. Right a thing or two about how no “good” deed goes unpunished.