Mary worked in an office building were Getting Lost was considered par for the course of being a newbie. She remembered, delightfully, all the lovely tricks one could play on someone who had no idea how the office worked. One of the most benign was an order for the kid to go find the Ophilia 7000 all-in-one printer-faxer-copier-cotilater-stapler-transmorgerifier that never existed. One of the meaner ones...which meant it was Mary's favorite--was to graciously print out a map with every single room mis-marked. It gaurenteed that the newbie would be late for every single meeting, office project, even his coffee breaks, but it also ensured that he would NEVER be late or forget a room number again.
There were a THOUSAND possibilities in here, and Mary had gotten an entire drive to think about them.
For example, there was that chauvenistic tech-support moron who had to come down to fix Mary's computer every single day--and if you ignored the fact that Mary's idea of office dress would have offended a hooker, and that she had to call the guy down every day to walk her through mistakes that could have been fixed by turning her computer off and then turning it back on again, this COULD be considered a rather horrible thing for Mary to have to endure. Or there was the janitor that always cleaned out Mary's drawer full of snacks and...other, fun office things. And, of course, there was her boss. So many, many things to do!!!
But Mary knew EXACTLY what she was going to do first. She had even stopped at a store for the supplies...one dozen Krispy Krinkle Doughnuts. She had taken care to dribble different portions of five vials across the doughnuts, then dribbled evaporated milk and syrup on top of that to hide the taste. The man she was going to give them to had a doughnut philosophy--the sweeter, the better.
"Hey, Marianne!" Floyde Harper, the security guard, waved one sugar-coated hand, while the other was busy pawing at his bear-claw. Suprisingly, Floyde was a very handsome man, built strong, like a damn marble ox. He had eyes like carmels and skin like coffee. Mary--and several dozen other women who worked here--always found themselves thinking "no cream, plently of sugar" when they looked at Floyde...and they were NOT thinking about that never-ending line of sweet foods that entered his mouth.
Mary HATED being called Marianne--her full name, written across her ID cards in irrevokable black ink--and hated the fact that Floyde NEVER did anything inapproprete. His eyes were always firmly north of her neck, looking into Mary's eyes. His hands never strayed past hers--and that breif hand-shake only happened on monday mornings. Mary was disgusted by this eternal show of goodwill and propriaty. He made her feel ugly. Insignificant. Dirty.
She smiled. "Hi, Floyde." She said.
"Your boss is going to have your BUTT, Mary." Floyde leaned over the desk and ate the last bite of bear-claw. "You're five hours late."
She glanced at her watch...it was one o clock in the afternoon. Technically, she was only four hours late, but Mary didn't care. The reminder of her carelessly tardy work-record was more than enough.
"I bought you doughnuts." She said.
Floyde's eyes brightened. He must have just eaten his LAST bear-claw of the day, and been wistfully imagining going home and eating whatever the hell it was a sugar addict eats for dinner. Probably a salid and vitamines, to counter the sugar.
"Thanks, Babe." He said, suprising Mary. That must have been the first time he said something even remotely sexual to her. And all that attention was focused on the Krispy Krinkle doughnut box. She handed it over with a Mona-Lisa expression; Floyde took it with all the enthusasum of a nymphomaniac being handed nervious pleasure stimulants.
"All yours, Floyde." She said. "ALL of it. It's ALL yours."
And she walked away, to the elevators, while Floyde ate the first of the doughnuts with the five vials's liquid soaking into the bread.
She smiled as she thought of the five. OHHHH, what sweet revenge.