One Notification

The bitter sweet scent of freshly brewed coffee floated by.   That smell, distracting me from the five hundred plus word report I had to finish reading before the meeting in conference room three at ten am.  I was up to page three hundred and fifty seven and the smell of coffee meant it was now eight o’clock.  She was like an alarm every morning, monday through friday.  The office PA would walk through the front door two drink carry trays in her hands, twelve cups of coffee in total.  She had memorised everyone’s individual orders by the end of her third day in the office, I guess that why she was a PA, she was way to efficient.

“Good morning Tash.  Gosh you’re good, having a final flick through of the Hilton report.  I only just finished reading it last night.” Amy said, placing my skinny chino, three sugars on the desk next to the report.

“You know me, can never be to prepared.” I said, choking out a laugh.  “Thanks for the coffee, Amy.”

She smiled and walked on to the next desk.  That smile said it all.  She knew I hadn’t read the report.  Shit.

I dug around in my bag, through spare pairs of stockings, jewellery and an empty box of breakfast bars, for my phone.  Note to self, clean out your bag when you get home tonight.  Pass code in, scroll across to facebook.  Notifications.  Claire Hunter has tagged you in a photo.  4 hours ago.  Shit.  Shit.  She must of seen the photo.  Amy knew.  I was screwed.  I pressed on the notification and it flicked over to the photo.  I felt the blood drain out of my head.  It felt like a waterfall the force of it was so fast and intense, making my head ache even more.  I didn’t even remember Claire taking the photo.  But there it was, the cold hard evidence of my drunken night out, including the location, date and time all tagged automatically.

I dropped my phone in the direction of my bag and stared at the report in front of me.  The words blurred together.

“Tash, can I see you in my office.”

Who had said that?  I looked around, slowly regaining focus.  I stopped when I saw Daniel standing at his doorway.  The boss.  He didn’t have a desk out here with the rest of us.  He had his own office.  And now he stood looking straight at me.  A scowl on his face.

“Tash, a word, now.” He said.

I pushed back my chair, standing shakily on my pencil thin heels.  Smoothing out my skirt, I walked over to his office, closing the door behind me.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Writing Jobs
    Jan 15, 2012 @ 03:35:58

    This was a very nice post. I enjoyed reading your blog today very much.

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    Reply

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