"Sit down," she said. I sat down.
"Here you go." She handed me a memorandum which read as follows:
To: Colleen (Staff Services Analyst)
Subject: TERMINATION OF CLOSET DUTY
Your temporary position in the closet is terminated as of this day. Please return to Crazy Carla's section immediately. Thank you for your assistance in the closet.
Dana (Staff Services Manager I)
I looked up at her. "Why?"
"Honestly?" she asked. I pondered whether I wanted her to lie to me or not for a second and then I shook my head yes.
"You're not proficient in Excel. From now on, we're going to administer an Excel test before we hire anyone."
I winced. So what you're saying is that you wish you could go back in time and not hire me? Jesus Christ, I should've told you to lie. I packed up my shit and left the closet for my previous cubicle, where I found my old supervisor in her ostrich ensemble. "I'm back," I said to her, filled with shame.
"Yeah," she said, "I know."
I spent the remainder of the day crying under my desk as I tried to reassemble my Ikea desk lamp, but after driving home and eating some Burger King, I find myself full of rage. I have been motivated to put up an ad on Craigslist for "Writer for Hire." In this ad, I admit to not knowing anything topical nor being able to use Excel, but being infinitely knowledgeable on the happenings of the Kardashians and to a slightly lesser extent, the Jenners. So far I have received one response from a gentleman requesting that I edit his book on politics, but I think I'll pass. At least until I'm officially fired from the State.