Day 4: Sent to the Wrong Printer

For this writing prompt, I sort of continued Andi and Tim’s story because…. I don’t know. It just clicked. I am still having tons of fun writing these so whatever, and please do read on. :p

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She is going to hate me.

After fifteen failed attempts of writing a letter, Tim decided it was high time to either bang his head on top of his desk or to stop wasting company paper. He chose the former. The company’s too rich anyway.

It was seven o clock in the morning, and fool that he is, he’s already at the office as early as 6AM. Everybody will be coming in around 8AM, but the person he’s most looking forward to arriving would naturally be a little late.

She’ll probably arrive at 8:15AM, He thought while glancing intently at his wristwatch.

Trying to calm his nerves, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It’s been a month since he started his courtship with the Office Queen, Andi. Within that time frame, he also felt like he’s developed some sort of anxiety whenever she sees the cookies he leaves on her desk.

 

His infatuation with Andi didn’t really come from love at first sight although it nearly did. He still remembered the first time their boss introduced her to everyone in the department. All at once, every guy within the 10-meter radius of Andi glanced up from their computer and started to do what they do best whenever someone with a different reproductive system catch their eyes – analyze. Embarrassing as it may be to admit, but he was part of that group. He couldn’t help it. He’s a performance analytics manager by profession.

Tim came up with his initial review.

She’s pretty, but she’s not a classic beauty, her face is a bit too round. Her short hair suits her quite well. Her posture seems good as well – not too stiff, relaxed but straight. A bit on the short side – probably around 5’2”max. She has all the right curves at the right places. Some men would think that she’s a bit close to being chubby, but he prefers women curves. They’re much easier to be with in general than the beanpole ladies that seem to be all the rage right now.

With a small smile and a clear no-nonsense-no-further-questions-will-be-entertained-voice, she introduced herself to the team, “Hello, my name is Andi Milan. I’ll be joining the Analytics team. Nice to meet you all.”

That’s it. A three-sentence introduction. No hobbies, likes or dislikes like the usual introduction they get around the office.

Ching! Analysis Complete.

To add to the physical attributes, this lady is not someone you mess with. She has a good head on her shoulders – may be the biggest understatement that he can use to describe this woman’s intellect which is as sharp as a knife made with diamonds. The look she gave the analyzing men told him and everybody else that she knows what they’re doing and that she forgives them – mere plebeians that they are – but they are never to do it again. Then men mumbled their welcome and went back to their boring work of crunching real numbers on their computer. Tim on the other hand, kept staring, awestruck.

They nicknamed her The Queen. Not because of any haughty attitude. But because if someone is in trouble, she would be one of the first person to help out – if asked. She would always assist the new ones whenever they need their work proofread and cleaned before sending it to their respective bosses. If a know it all person runs their mouth off and talk to her about a subject they simply have no idea about, she just smiles and ask questions subtly correcting their facts and figures. Everybody loves her and yet, she of all people does not see how wonderful she is. She always tells everybody that she’s a sourpuss, a dark nimbus cloud and the cousin of Eeyore thrice removed. Nobody agrees with her self-assessment though. But just like any doting parent faced with a cute lovable baby, they just let her say whatever she wants and smile at her antics. Andi may not smile or laugh very often, but when she does it feels like the whole world sparkles and he feel like wanting to wax poetic.

And that is what led him to do one of the most cheesy and horrific thing his mind could ever think about.

Act as secret admirer.

Covering his face with his hand, he groaned and went back to his current problem. The letter. It was time to admit to the crime, he thought. Time to face the jury. Time to dot the Is and cross the Ts, time to kick the bucket. If only he could…

“Aaaarrggg.” His frustration disabling his ability to speak coherent words, he opened a word document in his laptop, typed the first thing that came to his mind, clicked print and closed his laptop shut.

Wait.

He opened his laptop again.

Status: Printing.

But where?

He stood up and looked around the whole floor at the printers. 10 printers all in all. 6 used by his department, 2 used by his team and 1 he uses most often because it’s closest to Andi’s cubicle.

He started walking towards it.

Then a voice near the printer suddenly called, “Don’t bother man. I’ll get it for you.”

It was Archie.

No, no, no. Tim thought while walking a bit faster but not all out running to avoid suspicion.

He saw Archie a step away from the printer, reaching for the paper. Damn. He read it.

“Hmm…” said Archie as he scanned the contents of the printout. “I seem to have identified the cookie monster Betty and Andi was talking about this past month.” He reached out and gave the note to Tim.

Tim took the paper from Archie. Unable to look him in the eye from the sheer embarrassment, he strode back to his cubicle.

Archie followed and in his normal bored voice drawled, “You’re face is all red Tim. Another shade of that, and you’d probably be combusting.”

Tim couldn’t utter a word. He knew that Archie is a good sport, and will never tell anyone about this awkward moment. They’ve known each other since college, so they’re basically best friends. But since they know each other all too well, he also knew how Archie can be like a hungry squirrel with an acorn whenever his interest is piqued. And now, Tim looked like a 5’10 fat acorn to Archie’s 6-foot near-death-from-hunger squirrel.

“How long have you got the hots for the Queen, Tim?”

“A year.”

Archie glanced at the clutter on Tim’s desk. “What are those crumpled sheets of paper?”

Tim cleaned up his desk fast, but Archie was faster, and read the handwritten note he grabbed from the pile.

After reading the letter, Archie gave a ghost of a smile and handed it back to Tim.

“It looks like you wrote this letter using your right hand.”

Tim looked at his friend for a moment. Confused, he answered. “But I’m left handed.”

“Exactly.” Archie agreed with a nod to emphasize. “You’ve got good sense printing it instead of letting her see that your handwriting never progressed from fourth grade writing class.”

“You’re sure about her?” Archie asked.

“Sure enough to embarrass myself with the letter and the month-long cookiegate, Yes.”

Archie burst out laughing. “Man, you are such a dork! She is going to love you!”

Still unable to feel the levity of his situation Tim could only mutter, “Damn, I hope so too.”

 

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