Page 5 of My Boss

“Then what’s the matter?”

“I already told you: I don’t want anyone to report us to my boss. He’ll think that every two hours I leave for a quick fuck with my boyfriend, who works two floors below. He has already pointed out to me anyway that I take too many breaks.”

“Then tell him the truth that you go for a smoke. My boss doesn’t mind that I smoke.”

“Because he smokes himself. Mine doesn’t.”

“Maybe he’ll understand—”

“He won’t. He’s like a dry piece of wood in the forest. He’s an ossified bore who’s fucked up about following the rules. I can bet that the craziest thing he has ever done in his life was to play a timed chess game. With a computer. Offline.”

*

Another day at the desk, another calculation, and to top it all off, the fucking air conditioner has a busted ass because it’s eitherbreathing fire in my face or sending an icy blizzard down my back. I’ve already sent an e-mail report to Engler that the vent is bothering me, but he insists that he has passed the problem on to the technicians, who claim that the air conditioner is working properly. It sucks. I hate my job! I try to do my tasks diligently, on time so that the boss doesn’t have any objections. And in fact, he doesn’t have them, but I also never once heard a word of praise from him.

After making another report and sending it to his mailbox, I decide to catch my breath. This time, however, I don’t go out for a stogie because Jan is probably already starting to suspect something—he glares at me ominously every time I get up from my desk. So I stay in my seat and visit a website with “free giveaways” ads. I browse through dilapidated armchairs, chairs and tables that are just begging to be given a new life. Suddenly, my gaze is caught by a beige wing armchair. What a beauty! A classic Louis-style, stately, exquisite! I zoom in on the photo. Torn-up upholstery, armrests worn out. It will need a lot of work, but that shape, those legs! My God, I’m about to have an orgasm. I must have it, I must save it! What a bargain it is. I grab the phone and dial the number listed in the ad.

“Hello,” I hear a female voice on the other side.

“Good morning. I am calling about the armchair. Is it still available?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Great, when can I pick it up?”

“Right away would be the best. Several interested people have already called…”

OMG.

“What’s the address?”

“Pilsudskiego Street 23, apartment 35.”

I fly over the city map in my mind, and my heart beats as fast as if I were already running there. Today I’m without my Pandziak car again because once again its battery died.

Pilsudskiego… It’s not far; on foot, however, quite a distance. But I have a direct bus stop in front of the company.

“I will be there in thirty minutes.”

“OK, but it’s the fourth floor and no elevator…”

“No problem. Please do not give it to anyone. My name is Maria Gabara. I’m on my way now.”

I hang up, slam the lid of my laptop shut, throw my phone in my purse, jump off my chair, turn around and collide with something that smells disturbingly familiar.

“Where do you think you are going?” I hear a gruff voice.

I raise my eyes and meet the stern expression on my boss’s face. Instantly, I come back down to earth.

Shit! I’ve completely lost touch with reality. After all, I’m at fucking work, it’s noon and there’s no chance I’ll be able to get out of work even for an hour.

Unless…

“My mother isn’t feeling well. I have to go to her now.” I nervously adjust the purse on my shoulder.

“Mother?” Jan lifts his eyebrow.

“Yes, she’s old and…”

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