I Promise We Work in this Office

Filed under Memoirs of a Paralegal

On my way back to my office, I distinctly hear a faint whisper of chatter from upstairs.  I know my crazy hasn’t rubbed off on Mr. Roger–HA!–Mr. Rogers–definitely a beautiful day in THIS neighborhood with him around.  I continue walking up the stairs.  Wait!  Is that a female voice?  Oh, CRAP! Shondra!. I skip every two steps in an effort to quickly arrive at my office.  I reach the top of the stairs and slow my stroll in a useless attempt to try to calm my breathing pattern before I reach the chatting duo.  I arrive at the door of the vestibule–well Roger’s office–and inhale my last deep breath and exhale a breathy, high-pitched “Heeeyyyyyy!  Morning, Shondra.  I didn’t expect you in this early.  How was Court this morning?”  I simply MUST stop making Dunkin Donuts my stop EVERY morning…some mornings…well..occasionally.

Since the office and caseload has picked up, Shondra is in the office less and less these days–which accounts for less and less work production in the lower half of the building.  I don’t mind.  I really don’t like the in-boob management style.  In-boob management is when a manager constantly peeks their head up and over what you are doing.  Sometimes, they are inhibiting more than encouraging production.  A manager’s constant pop-up, micro-management is just as annoying as if you had someone directly in front of you–HANGING OUT YOUR BOOBS–looking over everything you type, read and write.  Shondra has never really intentionally been that way. She is more anal about making sure that every dime of payroll is accounted for (I think she uses payroll as a means of allowance for Mr. Howell.)  I have come to realize that most aggravating habits people have, they are disgustingly aware of it; unfortunately, they are even more victim to always being THAT person–no matter how hard they try not to be.  So, I count it more to their head and not their heart.

     “Hey, Danni!” Shondra responds with a wonderful smile.  Shondra stands about about 5′ 8″ tall.  She has gorgeous caramel skin and full of legs.  Her torso is only noticeable because of her near-perfect posture that exudes confidence every time she walks into a room.  Her smile shines as bright as white, high-gloss copy paper.  She is a runner, but when given the chance, will out pizza-eat any man who comes by.  Her weave is flawless every time–all the time.  She is the top of her class in everything yet humble–tho her wall has more medals, trophies and certificates than a glass trophy case at a high school.  When she speaks, her voice travels as if she is speaking to the masses from atop a huge boulder in the fields.  Yes, I admire her.  She is so magnificent–yet so human in the way she loves and cares for others–well–at least me.

“I was just speaking with Mr. Carrington, here.” She says holding her hand out to Roger.

“It’s Roger, Ms. Howell.” Roger says sitting upright in his chair.

“Very well.” Shondra nods. “Then, it’s Shondra.

     Wait.  What’s going on here?  I think as I take a quick once-over the office.  Is Roger flirting with Shondra?  Are they flirting with each other?  He’ll flirt with any beautiful, voluptuous bombshell that steps into a room–Me included! I can’t stand people who just flirts with everyone–not attractive at all.  

     “Well,” I say as I walk across and between Shondra and Roger towards my office. “Now, that we are all on first-named basis.  Aren’t we all just one great, big, happy family?  So, Roger, I guess when and IF you have any issues, you feel free to walk right on in and speak with Shondra.”  As I say Shondra’s name, I make it to my door, turn around and clasp my hands together with a smile towards Roger and a witting nod. “Okay? Now, if you need ME, I’ll be in my office…working.

“We all need you, Danni!” Shondra says chuckling.

“Yeah, Danni. We will always need you” Roger adds.

     What?  They’re joking, bosom buddies, now?  I smile at my thought-joke as I sit in my chair at my computer.  I have literally gotten NOTHING done, today–literally, not a thing done.  I have been away from my computer so long that it has stopped saving the screen and just gone to sleep.  I glance down at my Galaxy S4 and notice the blue, blinking notification light.  I check my phone and notice a missed call from Wanye and a text from him as well.  Who’s bringing Pops?  I pick up the office phone and call him.

“‘Lo.”  Wanye answers.

“Yeah, Wayne, what’s up?”  I respond.

Wanye is my 6’6″, 275 lbs baby brother.  Although his real name is Wanye, so many people, my dad included, has called him Wayne for so long that it has stuck with him since he was a baby.  The only two people who call him by his real name are my mom and Sasha.  So, when we go out in public, as a family, everyone feels that Momma and Sasha are like the upper-class black people who refuse to refrain from pronouncing Target with the jay at the end instead of the get.  In my dad’s defense, Momma and Sasha thought of the name.  I guess that is a defense for Momma and Sasha, too–if anyone should know how it is pronounced, it should be them.

“Yeah, uh.  Who bringin’ Pops Saturday to da birthday?  Wanye asks.

How in the world did he get so country-bumpkin?  Kanye graduated in the top 10 percentile of his class and is currently banking a whopping 3.2 average in college.  Why is it that, when he gets on the phone, his IQ drops to below 80 and brings the party on the other line down with him?

“Wayne,” I annoyingly say back while shaking my head.  Obviously, he can’t see me shaking my head and rolling my eyes, but he knows I’m doing it–OH!  He KNOWS. “You were never bringing daddy.  You are responsible for you and Dae.  Focus, Baby, Focus.  Momma is bringing up the rear with daddy and Lulu.

“Aight! Aight! See ya.”  He says hanging up–just as frustrated with me.  I smile because I can see him rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone call.

We are planning a surprise birthday party for my dad this weekend. Nothing big, just a small family affair to say thank you in a big way.  As I move my mouse to wake up my computer, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a king-sized KitKat floating in mid-air, by a hand, in the entrance of my doorway.  I laugh out loud, shaking my head.  Shondra sure knows how to make me smile–and a KitKat is it!  She hears me laughing, walks in and takes a seat.  I stop waking up my computer and let it sleep for now.

I promise we DO work in this office–just not today, apparently.

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