Chapter 1

Eight by ten, eighty square feet, walled on three sides using a gray-carpeted frame, one side a blank grey texture, with a desk on two sides. On one side was an overhead cabinet, and an overhead shelf was on the other. My 'In' basket was on the far left and my 'Out' basket on my far right. In the middle corner were my three PC screens that were giving me a headache by four in the afternoon. Why three monitors? So I could multi-task. At least, that is what management said they were for. I can have two active projects and look up information on the third, or play solitaire on all three at once. I didn't do that except for one day after five. I tried it and found out it wasn't much fun. Actually, I kept two monitors going to see who was on a call and what their totals were. The third was everything else including e-mail.

After checking my watch again, I looked up at the clock on the wall, thinking my watch had broken, and it was still twenty minutes until five. Everything is out of my in basket and in the out basket. I'll do one more walkthrough on the phone banks to see how busy we were. I could do that on the PC, but it was more fun to observe first hand.

There were people in about thirty of the fifty stations. We might have had too many people on shift today, but probably only one or two. Everyone seemed to be handling orders efficiently. Even the new people on the end closest to my cube appeared productive. The reports would show and tell all.

Our company took orders for all those great items you see on television. When you called a specific number, it was routed to the next available agent. Their PC simultaneously switched to an order form for that specific sale item, along with a script to sell add-ons. The agent would answer the call, enter the information for the order, and try to sell an add-on before thanking the customer and pushing their off button. That gave them forty-five seconds to "wrap up" the sale information or to just take a breather. If we were busy, another call would route to them as soon as the forty-five second timer ended. If we were not that busy, the person with the fewest calls for the shift would get the next call. Very efficient, and it must be a money maker as we paid agents decent wages. New hires were paid eight fifty an hour, with a raise to ten bucks an hour after thirty days. It went to eleven dollars at six months, and twelve at a year. Not a lot of money, but better than most phone rooms. They did get a commission on add-ons, so you know they would ask.

There was a group of people standing in the doorway, ready to assume the seats for the evening shift. They would sit at a station, turn their PC terminal on, enter their agent number, and wait for a call. The beginning was as orderly as was the ending. One by one, the agents finished their last call, gathered their add-on slips, and handed them to me as they passed by on their way to the time clock. One, two, three it begins, one, two, three it ends.

Back in the cube, I looked over the add-on sales slips before placing them into the out basket. It looked like a pretty good day for knife orders. There must have been a couple of "Paid Programming" spots on the knives, as most of the add-ons were for the big wooden blocks that held the knives. I keyed in my supervisor number to log off my shift, looked up at the clock to see it was already five ten, stretched, and went toward the elevator.

I really wasn't in a hurry to go home. Home was a tiny one bedroom apartment that cost an arm and a leg, because they had security and private parking. The few decorations I had were pictures I took on the Florida Keys the previous year. I took my vacation there and had really enjoyed the warm weather during the middle of the winter. Speaking of winter, I remembered just before the elevator dinged that I didn't have my coat. By the time I was back in front of the elevators, one of the four was on the twenty-second floor and the other two were on their way down to lower floors. The fourth, the really slow elevator, was coming down, nearing my floor. Oh well, like I said, I wasn't in that much of a hurry to get home.

"Hi, Pete, you're leaving late tonight." I turned to see who was talking to me. Ah yes, the new management secretary. Four of the mid-level guys shared one secretary. It was rumored those guys did more than share their secretary as the last secretary left pregnant and didn't know who the father was. These guys were all married, so it couldn't have been one of them, ha, sure, right.

"Hey, Sonja, it's only five thirty, so it isn't that late."

Sonja said, "You're right; it really isn't, but the men I work for always want to kibitz before I go home. I'm invited out for drinks and dinner all the time. I don't think I should do that, and they have accepted my refusals so far. I'm sure their wives would rather that they come home instead of taking their secretary out for drinks."

I was nodding my agreement when the elevator dinged and the door opened. It was only the two of us all the way to the first floor. By chance, this was the end elevator, known for how slow it was.

I told Sonja, "I'm going over to 'The Office' for a cold beer. You can come along if you want. The place is really more for guys than girls."

Sonja said, "You're right about that. The uniforms the girls almost wear are enough to make the guys keep coming back."

She reached over and picked up my left hand and rubbed where a ring would be worn before saying, "I'll go with you. You don't wear a shackle on your finger."

With a laugh I said, "No, no wife, no girlfriend, and no prospects. I'm saving for a dream."

When we walked out the front door, the bitter cold wind took our breath away until we covered most of our faces with our neck scarves. We quickly moved across the street at the crosswalk and down the street a hundred feet or so, before opening a big heavy door and entering the outer area of "The Office." They had a secretarial desk with a phone, PC screen, and a mannequin sitting at the desk. I suppose it was supposed to be the receptionist. Our company receptionist had about as much personality.

We could hear the music and laughter through the big double doors that were labeled "Conference Room." Inside we found a stand up table away from the jukebox speakers. A scantily clad waitress took our order for two mugs and a pitcher, plus a big bowl of popcorn, as we loosened our cold weather outerwear.

When the waitress came back, she pointed to a nearby booth and said, "They are leaving, want to sit down?"

That earned the waitress two bucks instead of the usual single I tipped. When we were sitting, sampling popcorn, and taking our first drink of beer, Sonja asked, "So what is the dream that keeps you from being a chaser like most of the men at the company?"

I smiled at Sonja and told her, "I want to move to Florida. If I could get a job, I would move to Key West tomorrow. I've been attending classes to become a bartender. Now that I've graduated from that school, I hope to get some real experience with a part time job that could be a way to be employed down there."

It was Sonja's turn to nod, "That's a smart idea. Other than the sunshine and warm weather, why do you want to move to Florida and the keys?"

"I took my vacation down there about this time last year and really enjoyed myself. I met a lot of nice people, including a couple of nice ladies, but most of all; I enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere. I spent some time on the beach everyday, wandered completely around the island on a bicycle, and even tossed some cracked corn at a few of the chickens that run around down there. I want to do that every day."

Sonja looked up at me, "I went there last year too, but it was for my senior college spring break in late March. My dad helped me with expenses, so it didn't cost much, and I was able to stay with him and my stepmom while I was there. I really liked it as much as you do."

I couldn't believe this girl ended up in ice cold northern Ohio instead of near her dad on Key West. I had to ask, "How come you stay up here if your dad lives down there. Do you live with your mom?"

"No, Pete, mom passed away several years ago. If she was alive, both mom and dad would be down there. I went to school on a scholarship up here and haven't really had the money to make a break to go down there. Dad said he would help, but when I go, if I go, I want to pay for it myself. I'm rooming with three other girls right now, and that really helps the budget. There are only two bedrooms, so we all share, but we only pay two-fifty each, including utilities, for a decent place."

My turn to nod, "Wow, I should get a roommate again. I tried it before, but the guy was a slob and wanted to party every night. He couldn't get over that I didn't want to go out with him all the time. I might do that again. Maybe I'll get lucky this time."

Sonja asked, "How long do you think it will take for you to save up enough to move?"

I told her, "I think I have enough right now. I'm figuring that I have to have enough to rent a place and have food for at least three months. I'm sort of thinking I need six months, since jobs are tough to find, but that's why I've taken the bartender classes. I can always work as a waiter, or even a busboy, if that's all there is."

"Wow," Sonja said, "You are ready and have thought this through. I suppose I could do it now since I could stay at dad's place, but I don't want to be a burden on him and my stepmom. They need their privacy too."

I asked, "Does your dad still work?"

"He sure does. He's an assistant manager at a big hotel down there. He often has some screwed up hours, but Clara, my stepmom, and dad go to the beach nearly every day and enjoy the warm weather down there."

"Sonja, just talking about it has me wanting to pack up and leave."

The sweet girl said, "You can always rent a trailer to pull behind your car."

I laughed, "That's probably another reason I don't date much. I don't have a car."

Sonja looked startled, "What do you do? Do you ride the bus or walk?"

I was still laughing at her surprise. "I'm just a real bubba, Sonja. I have a pickup truck. I bought it so I would have a way to haul what I have down to Florida. Actually, I don't have enough to fill the bed of the truck as it is."

"Won't your stuff get wet if it rains? Do you plan on putting everything in plastic bags?"

I looked at the sweet young thing, "No, it has a cap. A really tall fiberglass cap that keeps it dry inside. Heck, if you are like I was when I finished school, anything you have would fit in one as well."

Sonja sort of twisted her mouth up, "No, I don't have much. Dad has some of my stuff down there in a storage locker, and all I really have here are the bare minimum of clothes and knickknacks."

Off-handedly, not really meaning it, I asked, "Want to pack up and head to Key West?"

Sonja squinted at me, but she wasn't smiling. I felt like she was looking into my soul. "Yeah, I'd like that. I'd like that a lot. If you are willing to be a busboy, I'll bet I can be a waitress or shop clerk somewhere. I'll bet dad wouldn't mind if I stayed there for a month or so until I could find a roommate or three."

I stared back at her, "Do you mean it? If you do, that would be all it takes for me to pack it in here and head south."

With a smile, Sonya said, "Yeah, I mean it. I'm not hot for this job anyway. I think they want a lot more than I'm willing to give. I even heard a couple of them talking about getting someone more willing. If you want to, let's do it."

We had finished our popcorn and a small pitcher of beer. When the waitress checked on us, I ordered a repeat of what we had when we came in.

Before the waitress was back, Sonja said, "I want to get something straight though, I won't sleep with you for taking me along. I'll share the cost of gas, tolls, food, and we can even share a motel room, but no hanky-panky. I'm not that kind of girl. Can you keep your hands off of my lush body?"

With that, she was laughing loud enough to attract attention.

"Okay, okay, I get the picture. Let's do it. I'll do my best to keep my hands off you, but you have to do the same. You know I'm a real Adonis complete with a six pack. A cold one in my fridge."

It was her turn to laugh, "My kind of guy. At least I run every day to keep my figure."

I sighed, "I run too, but I use the weight room at my apartment as I need the exercise to compensate for the pitchers I have in the evening while watching the cute waitstaff."

Sonja reached across the table and punched me in the shoulder. "What's the matter; you can't ogle a friendly face?"

"I could, but you've already built the fence. I don't know whether the waitresses have a fence yet."

Sonja shook her head, "Their fences will go up when they find themselves being chauffeured in your Silverado limousine."

"I'll have you know my pickup is a reasonably new Ford F-150, with under a hundred thousand miles."

Still grinning Sonja asked, "Just how new is the limo you're talking about?"

"It's a 2000, only twelve years old now. Like new, you'll see."

"You're not kidding, are you? You're planning on hauling us to Florida in a twelve year old pickup!" she exclaimed.

"You'll see; it's like new and has all of the interior enhancements. It even has power windows, cruise control, and air conditioning."

Sonja couldn't stop laughing, "My my, it is a plush pickup, isn't it? You'll have to show me your pride and joy when you can."