nothing

He looked up at Louise as she walked past his desk. She was forever drifting around on some useless little errand… usually printing off some piece of paper to show to her husband, some kind of voucher to save on an item of clothing or jewellery… perhaps a holiday she hoped he would take her on. The little errands could be performed any time at all but she used them as an excuse to get away from her desk. Her job was to answer the telephone and she hated that. She felt an overwhelming sense of injustice at having to answer the telephone when one of her colleagues was talking to their manager or to another colleague. Why should she, Louise, longest serving staff member, remain at her desk and take calls when someone else was not available to lessen the calls? It never occurred to her that once she got up she was then truly creating a great weight of pressure on the ones left behind. The company was short staffed and unable to employ more so, whilst methods of reducing the work load were being implemented, the pressure was quite immense. Louise couldn’t understand why it was that she, who constantly reminded everyone that she was the longest serving member of staff, was still at the very bottom of the ladder. Some people had the audacity to tell her that she wasn’t promoted because she didn’t put in the effort that others did; that she was rude on the phone; she failed to learn the things that others did and never made any attempt to increase her knowledge. It didn’t really matter, she wouldn’t apply for any advancement positions because she didn’t want the additional responsibility or work load and, besides, she was convinced that, before long, she would fall pregnant and be able to leave this job to heed her calling in life; that of motherhood. She wanted to stay at home and tend to her husband and her child. She really wanted to watch her husband closely because it bothered her when he was at work, when she never heard from him on his lunch breaks, when he stayed after work for drinks, or when he met his friends for a football match on the weekend. She wondered what he was really up to. Why would he not call her as soon as he took his lunch break? Why would he prefer to spend time with friends on the weekend?

                ‘What’s bothering you, Max?’ Paul, who sat next to Max in the office, had noticed Max watching Louise. Max was calmly shaking his head and sighing.

‘Her goal is to have a baby, leave work, and live off her husband for the rest of her life. Having a baby would be her sole sense of achievement in life.’ Max answered.

‘How do you know that, Max?’

‘You can tell. Just from the things she says and the manner with which she goes about her life.’

‘And what are your plans? What are your dreams and ambitions?’

‘My aim is to drink myself to death. It may not be a noble goal but at least I am only reliant upon myself. ‘

‘That’s the thing with you, Max. You’re never quite serious and you are quite morbid.’

‘Perhaps so, but do I not make an effort to help everyone in every way I can each day? Do I walk out and leave others to struggle? Do I turn down chances to learn new things or to develop my mind and knowledge?’

‘I suppose not, Max.’

‘The problem is that nobody cares... everyone is doing it... everyone is just drifting by doing as little as possible only to suddenly leap into action when the right person is watching. The lazy ones are always keeping an eager eye open for the right moment to try to impress and they always seem to do that... they always lick the right hole at the right time. Life seems so shallow and false’

‘And you, Max, rather than doing nothing, if I am correct, aim to drink yourself to death?’

‘Yes. It’s something. There simply isn’t enough self-destruction in modern life. We are keen to destroy the forests and cause mass extinctions but self-destruction appears to be a thing of American writers past.’

‘This is England, Max.’

‘Yes, but if we learn nothing from the great American alcoholics of the past, what will we ever learn?’

‘You mean American writers of the past, don’t you?’

‘Alcoholics... writers... what’s the difference?’

                ‘How can you focus on writing if you are an alcoholic?’

                ‘How can you write anything interesting if you are not drunk? It’s not so much about being drunk, anyway, it is simply that people do not rock the boat. We complain about bad behaviour in children and then regiment life so severely to overcompensate that we can’t breathe. The whole planet is anally retentive and here in England we take it to a new extreme.’

                At that point, Louise walked over to Max and spoke.

                ‘Max, I am trying to sign into the fare loading system and it tells me that I am using the wrong organisation code.’

                ‘Ah, which one are you using?’ asked Max.

                ‘I’m using MNF-UK.’

                ‘Ok, try 3B’

She walked away back to her desk.

                ‘She loves you, Max.’ Said Paul. Max remained silent and looked in the direction of the corner around which Louise had disappeared. Suddenly, she reappeared.

                ‘You are amazing, Max. How did you know it was 3B?’

                ‘There are only two.’ Max said attempting to hide a wry smile.

                ‘Well, there was nothing about it in the documentation. Thanks anyway.’

Paul looked at Max and began to laugh ‘Perhaps you are right, Max.’

                ‘Paul, she may be an idiot but she is a genius when it comes to getting out of work. The more time she spends talking to us, the less work she is doing. It amazes me that she has never been promoted.’ Max looked up and saw Louise walking into one of the vacant offices with her personal phone to her ear. She looked as if she was about to cry... she always looked as if she was about to cry. She went inside the office and began to speak without closing the door. Paul and Max could hear her:

                ‘Why did you not call me on your lunch break?

... but... I called your four times... FOUR times Shaun... and you never answered.

Well... why?

I don’t ask you to call me every lunch break

... ok, well, is it too much for me to ask?

Who were you speaking to?

... oh?

Who is she?

Do you speak to her often?

What do you speak about?’

                ‘That poor man is tortured. He must be suicidal. Louise is living proof that divorce is a good thing.’ Max said to Paul.

                ‘Oh, come on, Max, divorce is not good for most people.’

                ‘But I don’t see too many happy marriages that are more than five years old. How long have you been married for, Paul?’

                ‘It has been six years now.’

                ‘And your happiest moments are when you’re wife goes away for the weekend.’

                ‘Well... well, yes, it is good to have a break sometimes but there are good times.’

                ‘Yes, there must be some. I love being alone but there are many times I feel lonely. I get involved with people who are often not available then develop an emotional attachment and find myself longing for them when they are out having dinner with their partner or curled up in bed next to that individual. The irony in that is that when I speak to them they will often tell me how cold and dead their relationship is. It seems that so many people would rather spend time with other people than the ones they are in a relationship with. I just hate to see people lose their individuality.’

                ‘But our sole purpose in life is to procreate. Don’t you long to have children?’ Paul truly believed this.

                ‘Are you serious?’ asked Max with a smile on his face.

                ‘Yes, I do believe that is our purpose, don’t you?’

                ‘No, I don’t believe that we have a purpose in life. We are merely a species on the planet for a period of time. That doesn’t mean I think life is worthless. I believe we need to find meaning. I find life is made meaningful to me through literature, music, film, art and other things such as enjoying and caring about nature.’ Max looked up in the direction of stamping feet in the corridor and saw Louise walking past... she was on her way to the printer again... another useless mission aimed at getting out of work for a few more minutes. Whilst walking around Louise would survey the office for anyone having a conversation and she would approach as if it was her birth right to be involved in any or all conversations.  

                ‘You know, Paul, this is symbolic of what her life is to be; constantly walking in circles, doing nothing, simply to avoid the things that may be meaningful and purposeful... and what does she feel her purpose in life is?’

‘I don’t know, Max.’

‘To have children.’