(Untitled) Part 4 of a short story I began writing... read the first 3 parts first!!!

Having been out of the dating game for a while I had to rely on an alternative source for providing me with the ‘low down’ on Cynthia, as a simple “Hi my name is”, was way too much for my nerves to handle. Let’s just say it’s only wise that if you haven’t driven stick shift for a while, don’t expect to look like anything from out of Fast and Furious when you jump back into a vehicle that requires you to work the transmission. Especially if there are a number of other mechanical problems you have to overcome. Therefore, calling in reinforcements wasn’t too out of the ordinary. I turned to the one guy in the workplace I could actually trust when it came to this sort of a thing. It would only require that he was not interested in the target himself, and that he was given play by play descriptions of everything that took place, from the first meeting, to anything that transpired after wards!

So I wasn’t that surprised when Steve appeared in my office with a sheepish smirk on his face, as if he has just won a very large bet. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand in which he had done a horrible job of folding properly enough, because it didn’t conceal the email address which was scribbled on it. It led me to believe that maybe he purposefully wanted the entire workplace to know that he was delivering a message that should have been kept private, and was even more carefree about the fact that there was enough evidence showing to incriminate who he was carrying the message from. With great haste I snatched the prize from his clutches and immediately began pounding away at my keys, entering the initials which had been scribed on the leaflet.

I’m not sure what made me believe that Steve would have saw it fit to give me some privacy at this point in time, but all I knew was that it grew incredibly difficult to remain oblivious to his constant questions, and over-exaggerated comments on the female specie. There was no doubt he was feeling immense satisfaction for himself, and would stop at nothing to make sure I was aware of the great deal of gratitude I now owned him. You see, Steve was the kind of character you may have never even knew existed, had he not been required to leave the comfort of his work station to make random office calls to staff who experienced computer mishaps. He was the hotel’s computer guy, and could perform a number of hidden tasks that would seem incredible to us normal click-and-point off-liners, as he would call us. I still remember when, Steve made a half naked picture of the Sales Manager ‘accidentally’ appear in everyone’s inbox, just because she refused to sign for a few computer monitor’s he was expecting that week. Or when he made the Resident Manager’s computer mysteriously start changing reservations and moving around itinerary. I still suspect he was the one that broke into my myspace page and changed my info to include that I was now ‘interested in men’ and looking for ‘a very sexual relationship’. He was the kind of guy you would want on your side if you began typing up an email to the head of the company telling him how much you wanted to grab him by the throat and drown him in the swimming pool, and then you accidentally clicked “send”.

In the midst of his comments on successfully getting a girl to bed, and the right kind of music to play in the sac, I managed to enter the email address into my computer. I knew there would be an additional waiting period before I would finally be able to say I captured Cynthia’s interests, because even though the message was sent, it was now left for her to accept my invitation. I decided I would quell my anticipation by running head first into some real office work.

It wasn’t a-typical for us office rats to take a break every now and then and just babble on about someone else’s misfortunes or some personal occurrence, but Steve had seemed to take up a considerable amount of my time now and I was eager to play the role of ‘enthused employee’ once again. I think he sensed my impatience and lack of response at this point and time and with a gesture that lacked desperation he made his way out the door. I guess it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say I was happy to see him go, as it was nearing that point of the day we called ‘the hour of power’; the dying 60 minutes before it was time to call an end to the days activities. I quickly turned my attention to my work station again, and it just so happened that in the middle of composing a Purchasing list, a message suddenly appeared on my computer screen…

“Cynthia has accepted you invitation..”