“I’m in a severe state of _______.  Why did this have to happen to me?”

 

Approx. 866 words

 

 

 

 

 

That Feeling of Joy!

 

©2003 by W. E. Lopez

 

I’m in supreme state of joy!  How could I have ever been so lucky?  It happened about 1:30 in the afternoon when Ralph Morrow came through the office and spread the word.

“Hey, did you hear about Nina’s car?  The police were chasing a van down Mission when the klutz pulled into our parking lot, not knowing there was only one exit.  He was racing round and round the parking lot trying to get away from them when he smashed right into Nina’s car and burst into flames!”

What luck!  Nina Brown had worked at Netware Providers for nine months, before being promoted as my team lead.  I’d been here for three years, never been late, never missed an assignment, and never taken a sick day.  It probably didn’t hurt that Stu James, head of operations and fifteen years her senior had been seen out and about town with her.  Can you say, “Sleeping your way to the top?”

Three months ago Nina had gotten the promotion I so richly deserved.  Right away she went out and bought a pearl-gray Mercedes convertible and began parking it in the slot reserved for her as team lead, while I was left to find a space as best I could, perhaps ten, twelve, or fifteen rows back, if I were lucky.

And now Nina’s choice new Mercedes was toast!  Talk about a vengeful God, someone up there really knew what it would take to make me happy.

For the rest of the afternoon I tried not to gloat.  I avoided Nina’s car when ever it was mentioned in conversation.  “Oh, that’s a shame,” I said.  “And she just bought that after her promotion.  I’ll bet it didn’t have a thousand miles on it yet!”  Inside, I was secretly giggling and I could barely keep a straight face.  If anyone ever deserved to suffer at the fickle finger of fate, it was Nina as far as I was concerned.

I kept to my work schedule, writing and testing over eight hundred lines of a code module for the new Shooting Star accounting software.  “Your accounts receivable will shine like a shooting star!” was the slogan the head-shed had come up with to promote this new package.  At 4:45 I couldn’t wait to shut down my computer and escape to the parking lot where I could gloat with joy.

Naturally my route to the parking lot had to veer past executive row so I could feast my eyes on the object of my satisfaction.  I turned left outside the main door and strolled down the esplanade toward the covered parking where I could get a good look.  Nina’s car wasn’t there!  Her space and two others on each side were empty!  A telephone repair van was parked sideways, filling all five spaces, with bright orange cones set out front and rear.

Slender gray cables led from the van to the access door leading underground to the Netware switching hub.  “It stands to reason,” I thought, observing the soot and ash on the awning overhead, “there must have been some damage to the phone lines and management pulled the cars out right away to make room for a maintenance crew.”

Thwarted in my attempt to witness the scene of my most recent victory, I headed across the burning asphalt, not much above ninety-five now that the sun had sunk low in the west.  Where was I parked today?  Row K, Section 7, wasn’t it?  I surveyed the light standards arrayed like birthday candles on a cake until I spotted Row K and began trudging to my car, three hundred yards away.

It was still scorching in the late afternoon sun, I paused a moments at Row D to remove my coat and sling it over my shoulder, only two hundred yards to go. Perspiration dripped from my forehead while spots began to spread below my arms.  It was no wonder a shirt could only be worn once in this heat before being sentenced to the cleaners to await parole next week.

Fifty yards to go, and I could see several heads above the line of compact cars ahead of me.  Drawing closer I could see Nina, and Ralph, and two or three others of our team.

In a moment I could see my Volkswagen Passat, only nine months old, charred to a cinder and sitting on four burned tires.  Next to it was Nina’s Mercedes, and a Ford Pinto on the far side!

“Jesus, Christ!” I said.  “What the hell happened?”

“Oh, Marty, I thought you had heard,” Nina said.  “Someone crashed into all three of our cars trying to get away from the police.  I’m afraid they’re totaled.  I just finished talking on the phone with my insurance agent and it’ll be taken care of.”

“Yes, I heard, but I thought you normally parked over in the executive row?”

“Usually I do, Marty, but the phone company was installing some new cable this morning and I had to park way out here.  What an unlucky break for me!”

Moments ago I had been gloating with joy, and now I’m in a severe state of grief.  Why did this have to happen to me?

 

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