Burn Out - Story 05 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Book by Daniel Gutiérrez Híjar

 

My boss Natalie rocks up to work at eleven in the morning. She darts straight into her office, not bothering to say hi to anyone. There’s a waft of fancy perfume trailing behind her, and she’s got her ever-present plastic bowl of salad in hand.

Her day’s just kicking off, but mine’s already four hours deep and won’t wrap up until after six in the evening. Hers will be done as soon as she polishes off her salad while chatting to everyone in her own little world.

None of us in the office, slogging away for more than eleven hours a day—just because we weren’t lucky enough to be born the owner’s kid—really belong to her world. We’re just the worn-down cogs that keep her family’s empire ticking along.

Life for me happens in the office. Most blokes here are burnt out, or pretty bloody close, but they keep dragging themselves in because they don’t know any other way to make a quid. I’m not burnt out, though. I managed to make those endless hours in the office feel different: for the past year, I’ve been seeing a colleague. She’s married; so am I. But it’s like we’re not, really, because we spend more time at work than at home.

Dawson, one of the hardest-working fellas in the place, walks up to Natalie’s office. I’m burnt out, he tells her. I just can’t keep up with all this work. I’m begging you, seeing as I’ve been slogging my guts out here for seven years now, could you either bump up my pay or hire a couple of people to lighten the load?

Listen here, Natalie snaps, and leave the door open, I want everyone to hear this. You’re not a bloody light bulb, alright? Light bulbs burn out. You’re a person. And if you’re feeling frustrated—which is totally different from being burnt out—it’s because you haven’t got the patience to see everything you’ve achieved with your hard work over… how many years did you say you’ve worked for this company, which treats its employees like family? She doesn’t wait for an answer and ploughs on: You ought to take a leaf out of Leo’s book—he does a great job and hasn’t burnt out, because he knows he’s not a light bulb.

Fuming, Dawson dobs me in: Yeah, but he’s got an office fling. Anyone could handle this hell if they had that.

What? Natalie bristles. Leo’s got a fling with someone here?

Yep, Dawson says. With Grace.

Aren’t both of them married? Her forehead veins bulge. She chucks her caprese salad against her office window. Not long after that, with her firing off a storm of moral and ethical lectures, Grace and I are punted out of that corporate Eden. Natalie’s rules just wouldn’t stand for two employees getting involved without hurting anyone.