|The Invitation (standard:humor, 1000 words)|
|Author: Ian Hobson||Added: Nov 22 2004||Views/Reads: 3077/1628||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Another short story competition entry. Story to start with the words 'It was only after clicking 'Send' that Rebecca realised what she had done'.|
The Invitation ©2004 Ian Hobson It was only after clicking 'Send' that Rebecca realised what she had done. Damn! She had meant to delete her boss's name from the office list. Now he would get the invitation to her birthday party, as well; the little shit. How she'd managed to put up with him for the last eighteen months, she didn't know. Everyone else at Parkinson's was pleasant enough, but Roland J Garner was the most rude, ill-mannered, bombastic little toad she had ever encountered. Except when the MD was around, of course. Then he was nice as pie; not to mention, on all fours, licking the MD's boots. Rebecca checked her watch and compared its time with the digital clock at the corner of her screen. Both said eight, fifty-two. She glanced down the length of the open-plan office. The production meeting wouldn't be over for at least ten minutes yet, so she had plenty of time. Taking a brown folder from the top of the pile on her desk, she eased out of her chair and set off along the isle towards Roland's desk, smiling at the accounting clerk, Trevor Scott, as he looked up from reading his mail. He smiled back then returned to his reading. Everyone else seemed to be engrossed in their work too; mostly clicking away at their keyboards. Oh... except for John Stone, who was on his way back from the coffee machine. He stopped in the isle and took a sip from his steaming plastic cup. 'Morning, Rebecca. Lovely morning.' 'Yes.' Rebecca tried to avoid getting into a conversation. 'Good forecast for the weekend, as well.' 'Oh, good.' 'I'm doing the fun-run.' 'Oh, yes; for the hospice. I was forgetting about that. Perhaps I'll come and watch.' A telephone began to ring, and John's ears pricked up. 'My phone. See you later.' 'See you.' Rebecca was glad to have been 'saved by the bell.' She continued on, clutching the folder and trying to look businesslike. There was no sign of Roland, or his secretary, Janis, who would also be at the production meeting, taking the minutes. As Rebecca reached Roland's desk, she glanced back down the office. No one was watching, so she ducked behind the partition and sat at Roland's large L-shaped desk. Good. His computer was on, and with her back to the wall, there was no chance of anyone approaching unseen. She nudged the mouse, to interrupt the screensaver's monotonous doodling, but immediately a small dialog box sprang into the center of the screen. Oh, shit! The little turd uses a password. Rebecca was about to give up and return to her desk when she noticed the tiny yellow Post-it note attached to Roland's monitor. It bore three words, neatly printed in blue Biro: 'generator', 'compressor' and 'inverter'. All company products, but... Rebecca put the folder down on the desk, typed in the first of the words and then hit the return key. Bingo! The idiot can't be arsed to keep his passwords somewhere safe. The screensaver and dialog box vanished to reveal a spreadsheet filed with text and numbers, and then immediately, the 'You have mail' box appeared. Rebecca reached for the mouse again. Then she moved the cursor over the word 'Yes' and gave it a left click, and immediately the screen was filed with Roland's inbox, complete with a list of his most recent e-mails; the top one of which was highlighted in red. Rebecca moved and clicked the mouse again and then hit the 'Delete' and F9 key, and with a final click of the mouse, her name and the words 'Come to my party!' disappeared from the list. Yessss! Click here to read the rest of this story (49 more lines)
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