I’m holding an empty coffee pot, and the conference room down the hall is filled with people. I have a plan and right now, I’m just going to go ahead with it. Prepare for an unpredictable ending.
Be kind to others. Respect each other’s space. You never know what will push someone over the edge enough to want to take revenge for a perceived or legitimate wrong.
Bullying is a subject that needs more attention. Don’t be a bully.
Certain Death - Season 1 Episode 2
Today will be the day. Lost in my thoughts, the hot coffee I’m pouring overflowed my cup and stained my pants. I’d become accustomed to the way others on my team treated me. I knew they would laugh at me for this and call me clumsy and stupid.
“Geez, Lucas! You idiot!”
I turn towards the break room doorway. It’s Jared. He’s one of the people I hate the most in my office. He deserves to go to hell. Maybe one day he’ll get that opportunity. A smirk creeps up on my face.
Back to reality. I let out a quiet sigh—why did I have to wear light colored pants today?
Jared stops another co-worker in the hall. “Did you see this?”
She laughs and laughs and laughs. The two of them point at my stained wet pants and proceed to yuck it up at my expense. They do it in a way that is so over the top that it seems fake, but here we are in the now, and it’s as real as anything else in the physical plane. Add Stephanie to the list. I smile at the thought.
I’d gained thick skin and their words and actions don’t hurt me anymore. Okay, that’s a lie. I hate them all and always knew that one day they’ll pay for their petty antics. That day has come.
What they didn’t know is that I’m on the verge of something big, something not seen often in humans. I’m evolving.
I’m not talking about something basic as a change of heart, wearing a new style of clothes or getting a haircut that changes my appearance for the perceived better. With the naked eye, I appear to them as I always have. A weak, spineless beta male that can’t stand up for himself.
The average person hates it when those around them change. It’s unsettling, questionable, and fills folks with fear. That fear drives most to do whatever they can to force and pressure the change from happening. So, I haven’t let on about my metamorphosis.
I pull off a few paper towels and begin blotting my pants. It becomes more obvious to me by the second that it’s not helping.
My boss pokes her head into the break room. “Meeting in 15 minutes, Lucas. Don’t be late. It’s your turn to get the coffee.” She sees my coffee-stained pants and just shakes her head in pity.
I knew it was my turn. It always is. I’m not sure how it came to this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for it and yet, there appears to be no escape from this pain. I need my job, so I put on another pot of coffee and start filling cups.
My mother is ill and there’s nobody else but me to take care of her. She’s been sick just about as long as my dad’s been gone. I often wonder if she’s truly physically sick or if it’s psychological. Either way, she needs my help, and she’s my mom.
Now that I think about it, it was right around the time when my team found out that I’m still living at home with my mom that the harassment began.
At first, it started off as little snickers from my team here and there. They soon made it a point to group together in little huddles and point and laugh at me. The belittling developed quickly, and soon it was full-blown and unthrottled. I was the target of all their frustrations. It’s like I became a magnet for punishment for everything that bothered them, and they felt no remorse or shame for the open and blatant constant infliction of humility on me.
It didn’t take long to develop into physical abuse, either. Like an “accidental” bump in the hall that is hard enough to knock whatever I’m carrying out of my hands. Then of course immediately blame me with a phrase like, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, klutz?”
They have even worked together as a team many times. It’s like picking on me is their favorite pastime at the office. But it’s not limited to the office. They harass me outside of work, too. And it seems as if I’m even a placeholder in Starbucks lines. It’s like they have a GPS tracker on my whereabouts, as I almost always run into one of them when doing errands. On most occasions, I receive at least an eye roll upon being seen. I must be so disgusting to them.
Now I realize I couldn’t totally blame them; because I was weak. A beta male that took every bit of what they gave me with no pushback. Like a fool, I allowed them to treat me this way. Even so, I don’t deserve the injustice and pain that they cause.
I must make sure to not make a mistake with the coffee. I know what they all want by heart. Jared likes his black. My boss likes hers with 2 sugar cubes and 3 creamers. For my last review, my boss modified my job description to include coffee boy. She probably did that to avoid any legal issues with making me get the coffee. I wish I was kidding about that. But I needed my job, so I accepted it.
I double and triple check all the drinks to make sure I did it correctly. I only have one chance at this. Not only that, I don’t need any survivors to blame me for it.
I place all the drinks on the cart and push the cart down the hall towards the conference room. They’ll all look at me as if I took an eternity. You’ll get your coffee. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your coffees. Drink up.
I’ve already left a message on my boss’s voice mail letting her know that I’ll be out sick today. I know her schedule by heart. She doesn’t check her messages till after lunch. She rarely even listens to them anymore. She told me she’s much too busy to check them.
So as a favor, one of my “extra roles” is to listen to her messages and give her a summary. I’m not stupid. I give her verbal summaries and I use her phone line to check the messages. There is no written proof of this, and she didn’t put it into a review or anything like that. And anyone who might have known of my doing this for her is in the conference room right now. This has been a long time coming. It’s a perfect plan.
I turn the handle and push open the conference room door with the cart. As expected, all eyes are on me and the bitching and complaints begin. I smile, and I make sure not to spill a single drop of their coffees. I’d hate for it to not be potent enough. Who am I kidding, there’s enough cyanide mixed into their coffees to ensure a swift death.
I bend down and wipe off my hands with a towel on the cart and reach behind it and flip on the switch to the cell phone jammer I acquired months ago. Can’t have anyone calling for help. I’ll come back in a half hour after it’s finished and take the jammer with me.
Imagine my excitement when Jared is the first to drop. Who’s the beta male now?
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