writing doodle - on the job

I blame all of my diet failures on the guy I work with.  He is arrogant, pushy, and is convinced that not only does the sun rise and set upon his insistence but that we should all know it  and love him all the more because of it.

My car hadn't even arrived in the parking lot before he called demanding to know where I was.  It wasn't even 7:30 and I wasn't due to the office until 8:00 and he was already barking.

I had intended to come in a little early and clear a few things from my desk, but now I was headed to Dunkin Donuts for a cup of their best brew and two jelly filled gems.

The need for caffeine was given, I would need the strength and stamina to get through the daily chores with a clear head.  For the past three years, I've been going to night school so I can do what I really love, interior design.  Just the idea of changing the purpose of a room with a little imagination, some elbow grease, and someone else's wallet always makes my heart flutter. 

The sugar was to sedate me against Matthew's perennially bad mood when it comes to working with me.  The rest of the world he seems to like.  He is pleasant, makes jokes, and tells great stories.  When I'm not at the office, he gets a tremendous amount done. When I'm at work, it is all I can do not to hear every word of his so called private conversations with his wife about everything from the kids to the mortgage.

Once properly medicated I deemed myself ready to face the day and my nemisis.  If things didn't get better soon, it would be him or me.  I wasn't looking forward to a showdown with him, but I would stand my ground and do what I had to to protect my own interests.

I pushed the office door open and said, "Good morning, Matthew."

He looked up from his monitor and grunted.  "Mom, we need to talk..."