Chapter 5

Marty jerked awake, as his foot slipped a little. His slumped posture just naturally meant he would slip in his chair, as he fell into a post lunch stupor.

What was that? Oh. The phone again. Reaching out, Marty grabbed the phone, careless of looking at the Caller ID. "Marty, Old Pal" he heard, the ingratiating slippery voice of George. "Marty, I can't seem to find out why my computer is acting up."

Marty grunted a reply "I'll be right over", as he shook his head and picked up a pen and a notepad. It may not be much of a defense, but he'd already learned that if you didn't take notes when talking to George, that you didn't have any way to reconstruct what he was talking about. Even small clues were helpful. And he still had to find out about Ms. Ann Feraens Wertt.

George was bent over his desk when Marty walked into the cubicle. What was going on here?

"I've already gotten the second monitor but I don't understand how to use it" George explained. I talked to Phil and he said there had been a study done at the university that said people with two screens are twice as productive. George grinned and pointed to his desk. There on the desk, like a zebra after a lion attack was George's computer. The metal ribs of computer cards were visible with the cover haphazardly leaning against the wall. Multiple lights flickered in the case, and as small tendril of smoke seemed to curl in the air to signal the buzzards flying above.

"George, did you do this yourself?" Marty asked.

"Sure did! I didn't need to wait for those know-it-all service guys! I can figure out how to plug in another monitor without their help!"

"Why is the computer cover off?" Marty asked, noticing again the blinking lights. "Did you unplug the computer before you started?"

"Nah, why would I do that?" George asked. "I took the cover off because I couldn't find a place to plug this wire", George proclaimed, wielding the monitor cord in his hand like a small whip.

"Where is your other video card to plug the monitor into?" Marty asked, as he reached over to the power switch, turning off the computer.

"The stuff that came with the new monitor is in the box."

Looking in the box, Marty found the manifest, that clearly mentioned that at least the "service guys" had done their homework and ordered another video card for the other monitor. But it was missing from the box.

"Did you see a video card in here?" he asked George.

"Oh, yeah, I already plugged that in." George replied, pointing to the slots in the computer carcass.

There amidst the other once-working cards was the video card, the source of the smoke burning Marty's eyes. He remembered the old joke about computers not running on electricity but on magic smoke. You know this is true, the joke went, because if you ever see the magic smoke leaking out, the computer quits working...

About this time, the "know-it-all service guys" showed up, unsurprised by the mess, and shooed both Marty and George out of George's cubicle. "We'll take care of this, you just go work somewhere else" they said.

"We can go to my office while we wait" George suggested.

"Your office? We were just at your desk... " Marty replied, looking toward the almost-bonfire.

"No, no. My office over in the corner" George said. "Phil just told me that he had figured out where it would be. After all, it would never do for a supervisor to be in a cubicle like all the help desk Bobs."

Suppressing his anger, Marty asked. "When did you get a corner office?", knowing the sinking feeling in his stomach meant that George would be getting another promotion soon.

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to mention it until the Bonus Meeting." George said in chagrin. "It was supposed to be reward for the excellent work I have done this year. It is a secret until then. You won't tell, will you Marty?" George's oh-so-sincere face, with its twinkling blue eyes.

Resigned, Marty affirmed his consent. "Your secret is safe with me"

"Great!" George grinned. "So let's sit down and talk about how work has been going with you. After all, that's what supervisors are supposed to do."

Marty followed George into the corner office, noticing the buxom secretary sitting in a desk just outside the door. "Who's she?" he asked, after he carefully shut the door.

"You mean Lisa?" George asked. "She's going to be my personal assistant soon. I won't have to answer my phone or get my own coffee. Won't that be great?"

Marty cautiously agreed. "Is she new to the company?"

"Yeah, you remember those meetings I had two weeks ago? I was interviewing secretaries the whole time. Let me tell you, some of those honeys were sweet." George answered, displaying his lack of imagination in description at the same time as his insensitivity and male chauvinism.

Marty remembered those meetings fondly. George had been away from his desk every day for six or more hours. The rest of his work day had been spent in mid-morning break, lunch break, and afternoon break. With him away from his desk, he hadn't been able to mess up anyone's computer and hadn't picked up any help desk tickets. It had been heaven. Marty simply had to talk to customers rather than irate customers. "Why did you choose her?" Marty asked.

"Did you see her bazongas? Need I say more?" George replied.

Marty's head began to swim as the plush elegant room with its rich wooden furniture and very tasteful decorations contrasted with the brash, crude demeanor and George's words. The juxtaposition of tastelessness and high class seemed to make the whole conversation feel unreal.