Page 38 of My Boss

“I’m already late. I still have to vacuum the hallway.”

“Hmm. Could you lend me your card? I’ll give it right back. I will just put the computer and documents on his desk.”

“I can’t share cards with anyone. Rules.”

Crap.

“I understand. But this is an exceptional situation. The boss will be furious if he doesn’t have it before seven o’clock. I would really appreciate it. This will take just a minute. He was supposed to leave the door open, but he forgot.” I’m a lousy liar, but it’s due to stress. Just the thought of seeing Jan face-to-face makes my knees go wobbly. “Please… I beg you, please… I really need to do it.”

The woman sighs, moving a paper towel over the mirror.

“What is your name?” she asks.

“Maria Gabara. I work here as a senior specialist. For now! Please. This is crazy important to me.”

“Well, I don’t know.” The woman gives me a strange look. I can sense in her voice that she probably needs some extra encouragement.

I put down the box and reach into my bag for my wallet. Its emptiness mocks me. I have 40 zlotys, an ATM card, an ID card, a few scales from a carp (which, apparently, bring shit and no luck) and a gift voucher from Tosia for a relaxing massage, which expires in two weeks. Bingo!

“Would you like to get a massage?”

“Say what?” The woman looks at me as if I’ve just proposed lesbian cunnilingus on the sink counter.

“I have an invitation to a spa from a friend, but I won’t be able to use it. You know, work, work, work… But maybe you would like to treat yourself?” I show her the voucher and smile encouragingly. “Sixty minutes, full-body massage, choice of scented oils. You’ll feel like you’re in heaven.”

God, I’m about to screw myself, the saleswoman from hell. But apparently, I’m not that hopeless because the cleaning lady throws the towel in the trash, wipes her hands on the uniform and approaches me, not taking her curious eyes off the invitation.

“And you want to give it to me in exchange for letting you use the card for five minutes?”

“Exactly. It’s really important to me.” I give her the so very… tempting voucher.

The woman holds it in her hands, practically salivating over it.

“I guarantee you will be satisfied,” I assure her, although I have never been to this place in my life. “So, do we have a deal?”

I follow her hand, which reaches into her apron pocket. My heart beats harder. Yes, oh yes.

“Give it back in five minutes.” She takes out a small pack of cards and hands me one of them.

Yes, yes and yes!!! I feel like hugging her.

“I’ll be right back.” I take the key, put the bag on my shoulder, pick up the box, turn around and run to Engler’s office.

It is 6:50 a.m.

I have been in the boss’s office three times so far, and only for a short while. Each time I was struck by the asceticism, orderliness and coldness in it. This is also the case now. Soundproof walls and glass, two stylish chairs, black-bound binders evenly stacked on shelves, books on finance, management and economics arranged according to the height of the spines in a bookcase, only a laptop and a monitor on the desk, an office lamp and a pen holder (and one pen in it).

I walk closer to unpack the computer from the box, and trip over some damn thing. I hit my belly on the edge of the desk and the momentum carries me forward. I land on top of the box.

Holy crap. What was that? I massage the sore spot, glance at the floor, and there lies a black, overturned attaché case. What does he keep in it? I’m tempted to look in it. But I know I can’t. I’m not like that. I’ll just put it here…

I crouch down, reaching behind the handle. Oh! There is no lock. Unfortunately, it has a padlock. Too bad. Not that I want to open it.

“What are you doing here?” I can hear a man’s voice behind me.

I get off my knees and freakin’ bump my head on the desk top.

“Fuck me…” I hiss through my teeth. I hit myself in exactly the same place as I did on the toilet yesterday. I rub my temple and stand up embarrassed because I’ve just been caught by my boss fondling his attaché case.