Part 2 - Chapter 4: A Daily Case of the Mondays
When you open your eyes, the room is still dark. Your ears perk up, as you listen to the space surrounding you. A gentle breathing tickles the hairs behind your right ear. The bed surrounding you is warm. You look to your alarm clock. 4 A.M.
The alarm clock ticks ever forward, ever onward. Progressing for the sake of continuity.
You can’t help but breathe a sigh of disappointment. You work all night yesterday. Break down in front of Autumn. And then pass out before being able to enjoy anything about what little evening you had.
And worse? In two hours, you’ll wake up, and go back to work.
Work.
The very thought of that word leaves a bitter, acidic taste in your mouth. You instinctively move your right hand to cover your forehead to relieve the building pressure. But you find your hand stuck. Held tightly by two hooves.
You turn your head to look at your marefriend, who sleeps soundly beside you. Her natural scent fills your nostrils. A smile curls.
Sometimes you don’t know where you’d be without her. Last night was perfect evidence of that. And now she’s moving in. You’ll have to make plans to move her things this weekend. It’s… a refreshing thought. You can remember the days you spent once you arrived in this strange city. A place filled with noise, but not a single voice to be found.
It’s then you realize the sweat on your skin. A cold sweat. Your brain is fuzzy, like a dream let go from your conscious once you tried to remember what it was. You can feel your body physically ache.
The thoughts of work begin to creep back in.
You are going to be responsible for people losing their jobs. Lots of people.
And until it’s formally announced who, you have to look at them. Every day. You have to watch them squirm in their little cubes. Unsure if they should breathe easy, or begin packing.
You close your eyes and try to push those intrusive thoughts from your head. They have no place right now. It’s 4 A.M. You should be sleeping. Not worrying about work.
But with how sticky you feel, you can’t go back to sleep. You sigh. You press a light kiss on Autumn’s head, getting your lips full of her bedhead in the process.
You ease your arm out of it’s death grip, feeling almost guilty for doing so. You move one leg off the bed, then the other, and make your way to the bathroom. You close the the door behind you so you don’t shine the bathroom light in her eyes, then flip on the artificial blinders.
The spots immediately fill your vision as you turn the shower, the heat filling the room around you. You suppose that’s one of the benefits of being up this early. The apartment water heater isn’t running on dregs just yet.
You move to the mirror, and give yourself a good look over..
Dark circles under your eyes. Sticky cheeks. A gaze that goes off for miles. Your jaw hangs lower than usual. The anxiety is slowly repainting each of your features, carving away the natural ‘spunk’ from your stature.
Remember when life was exciting and spontaneous? When things would change at the drop of a hat? In a good sort of way?
When did things get so hard?
“What are you doing up?” Autumn asked, strolling out to the kitchen, her body still slightly slumped and wearing a blue pajama shirt. Your blue pajama shirt.
You can’t help but smile to yourself as you push the yellow gunk around in the pan.
“Couldn’t fall back asleep,” you half-lied. She looked so damn cute laying in bed that you didn’t want to wake her up. You sat on the couch for awhile, trying to get more rest, but you mind wouldn’t stop spinning situations and thoughts in your head. “Eggs?”
“Sure, if you’re cooking,” she adds, moving to the coffee pot. She lifts it, and feels the liquid inside… or-lack-there-of. “You know my track record on cooking.”
“What track record?” you ask.
“Exactly.”
You smile to yourself.
A silence falls over the room as she preps the coffee maker.
“I think I need to quit my job,” you say aloud.
The words didn’t have any plan, no pretense, no build up. You had to say it. You had to say it to someone. You can’t hurt like this. You don’t deserve it. You’ve got so much going for you. The last thing you need is a breakdown like last night.
“Do I need to take on a second job?” she asks without skipping a beat, matter of factly, rather than questioning.
The response takes you back for a moment. You aren’t sure how to reply.
“Not, like, today,” you reply. “I’m not going to quit today. I think I have some things I need to do still. I think I can find a way to minimize the number of people they lay off.”
This is what causes Autumn to stop and give you her full attention.
“Anon, you don’t have to martyr yourself for ponies you haven’t even met. If you’re miserable, you should change jobs. We can make things work. Maybe we can move into my place. It’s rent controlled.”
“I know. I know, just…” You pause, a knot bound tightly in your chest, pulling your incorporeal form off somewhere in the distance. “It feels like the right thing to do. And if I don’t try… I think I’d regret it.”
Another silence falls over the kitchen as the eggs in the pan form soft little curds. You push them around. It doesn’t ease the tension between you and Autumn, but you can safely take ‘burned eggs’ off of the list of problems you could have today.
Autumn goes back to putting the coffee pot together, then flips it on.
“Alright,” she says. “Just promise me you’ll get it out before it hurts you?”
The reality is that it already hurts.
But you have to try to fight to bring that number down. As well as find your own new job. Get some interviews or something.
“I promise.”
“Good,” Autumn says with a smile. “Now I don’t have to worry about that at least.”
“Worry about ‘that’?” you ask.
Autumn seems uncomfortable as she moves to the table.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s stupid. But I just really don’t like the idea of you and Fluttershy working late together. Alone at your work.”
“I don’t either,” you say. “But it’s what had to be done.”
“I just,” she says, looking at the floor. “I even know I’m being kind of jealous here. But I just don’t trust her around you.”
“I’m not going to defend her,” you say. “She is, who she is. New leaf or not, I want to spend as little time with her as possible.”
You scoop the eggs onto two plates and set them down on the table.
“Just,” she says. “Tell me I don’t have to worry. And I won’t have to.”
You pause, pondering your next words carefully.
“Honestly?” you say, digging your fork into your eggs. “I have confidence I can defend myself if she comes at me violently or something. Though I doubt she’d do that. I just… I’m honestly not sure if she’s going to try something.”
You put a forkful of eggs in your mouth as she raises her head and the two of you lock eyes.
She sighs, poking at her eggs.
“Well, at least I know you can handle yourself in an office fight,”
“I’ll wield my staplers like a veteran samurai,” you say, trying to poke fun at the situation.
She faintly smiles and takes a bite of food, but otherwise doesn’t respond.
“I think I’m going to check up on Berry before I head off to work,” you say, adjusting your tie in the mirror.
“I think she’d like that,” Autumn replies, brushing her mane on the bed. “Do you have more overtime tonight?”
“Not that I know of,” you say. “And after last night? I think I’ve earned the ability to say no to something like this.”
“That’s my Anon,” she says with a smile.
You finish getting your tie just right, then turn and head to your marefriend. You kneel to get down to eye level with her. She stops, looking toward you with a wide smile. Any hint of what was bothering her at breakfast has melted off. Either things are better, or she’s doing a really good job at hiding it.
You wouldn’t think she’d keep from you if she were unhappy, would she?
You press your lips onto hers, and run your fingers into her freshly brushed mane. Your fingers glide through, feeling her silky strands. She presses her lips back onto yours and you feel a warmth spread through your body. Like this, you are powerful. Like this, you feel resolute.
You can do this.
You pull back and look into her eyes, and she looks back into yours. You can feel that connection. When words don’t need to be said. You’re simply there. Together.
“I’ll text you throughout the day,” you say, rising to your feet.
“I’ll look forward to it,” she says with a smile. “Besides. We gotta decide when I’m moving myself in here. And whose furniture we’re keeping.”
“How about,” you say, moving to the doorframe of the bedroom to leave. “We keep all of my furniture, and then keep your… uh… Fridge condiments.”
“Are you kidding me?” she shoots back. “You have the fancy mustard. There’s no way we are keeping mine or letting yours go to waste.”
You snicker, and she can’t help but involuntarily giggle.
You pause, just before you step away.
“I love you,” you say to her.
“I love you too, Anon.”
“I’ll check on our best neighbor friend.”
“Make sure she doesn’t drink!” she calls back.
And with that, you make your way out of the apartment, and down the hall to Mulberry’s door.
You pause. You close your eyes. A small jolt of pain fills your throat.
You raise your hand. You already know she’ll be disappointed that you didn’t make an appearance last evening. But, you shouldn’t let that get in the way of taking care of a friend.
You move to knock on the door.
It gently opens.
“Oh,” the two of you nearly say in unison.
“Hey,” you continue.
“I was just-” she cuts off.
Then silence.
“Were you heading out somewhere?” you ask.
She closes her eyes, then turns around.
“I couldn’t sleep. I was… I was going to go get a bottle.”
Another silence. This went zero to sixty faster than you would have imagined.
“Well, at least you were honest,” you say, your voice stern and cool. “Do you mind if I come in?”
She opens her mouth to say something, but closes her eyes.
“I think I’d prefer if you stayed outside.”
You can’t help but feel as if the wind left your throat. That wasn’t an answer you expected.
“Alright… is it because you’re drinking?” you ask bluntly.
“No, just,” she says, but stops. “I just really don’t trust myself right now.”
She looks up as if to say something, then cuts herself off.
“I feel like I need a hug,” she says.
“Do you want a hug?” you ask, taking a step closer.
She closes the door just fractionally. The intent rings clear in your mind. She wants a hug, just not a hug from you.
You shouldn’t be surprised. You did turn her away when she needed a friend. Multiple times.
Even if one was with romantic intent.
“Well… you know my phone is always on… if you need anything, right?” you ask.
She nods gently.
“Alright then,” you say. Not sure there’s anything else you can honestly say.
You pause. There is.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you last night. If you’d like, I’d like to buy you lunch sometime to make it up to you. I’d love to listen.”
You exhale. The words feel good rolling off your tongue. She looks to you, her expression unreadable, then she opens the door wider.
“I’d like that.”
You find yourself standing in front of the doors to your office building, hesitating. You could question why, but you know how awkward you already look. You’re just standing there, hand on the door. It could only be seconds that you’ve been stuck, but you feel a looming sense of dread that makes you consciously aware of how heavy the door in front of you really is.
Inside this building are the ponies whose lives are being altered by your work. By your calculations and your decisions.
You pull on the door, and step inside. Your arm aches.
Your eyes look to the front desk receptionist. Melody Morningsong. Worked at the company for three years. Earned one bad rating from her manager because she took bereavement. Sadly, it was three months ago. It flagged her as a problem employee.
How long will it be until the bright, sunshiny face that greets you everytime you walk in be replaced with an empty seat? Then again, she hasn’t even been worth mentioning before. A side-character, background to the vaster story of your life. Why should she matter?
“Good Morning!” she says, as you take the time to recognize that she exists this morning.
“Good Morning to you too,” you reply back.
But you notice she hasn’t even looked up. Perhaps even the cheerful morning greeting that you and your colleagues used to ignore had even became nothing more than routine for her as well.
You walk to the elevator. Click the button and then wait. You make an effort to not look around at the ponies around you. You already feel a sinking weight in your stomach after the receptionist. Who else will you recognize? What will that mean?
The elevator dings. You pull out your cell phone and pretend to take a call as an excuse to focus on the ceiling. You bump your way into the elevator, continuing your fake conversation. You look down, your floor’s button is already hit.
Then you feel a tap on your shoulder. You look reflexively
And there is the chocolate, tan stallion that you least wanted to see. Brand. With a glowing, relaxed look on his face.
“You did an amazing job,” he whispers. “Meet up with me later.”
You nod, continuing your fake phone conversation in the most businesslike way.
The elevator opens and you step off. The doors close behind you, and you shove the phone into your pocket.
You can feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. You hate this place. Why are you here? You walk past the dead office plant and move into your office.
Grabbing a coffee mug, your mind just feels… empty. Not necessarily because you aren’t thinking of anything, but rather because you’re thinking about too much. All there is around you might as well be a dense, suffocating fog. The very act of moving your feet forward feels as if you are a puppet whose strings are being pulled one at a time.
You step into the breakroom, and immediately recognize the mare sitting at the breakroom table. Fluttershy.
Who you don’t recognize are the two stallions talking back and forth.
“So it’s official?” one says. “They’re laying ponies off?”
“Yeah, well, as confirmed as a rumor could be. I heard it from a boss that it’s in the works, but no time table behind it.”
Your eyes move to Fluttershy whose eyes lock to yours. Behind her expression all you see is… exhaustion. You nod to her, pour yourself a cup of black coffee while trying not to listen. At least, you could say you tried.
“I’d hate to be the poor sap who gets the boot. The benefits here are pretty frickin awesome. Like, I just got this medical procedure done. Got to pay all of it from my medical spending account. Made things so much easier.”
“Well, at least I know it’s not me. They can’t afford to get rid of me. I know too much. I’m the expert of things that literally nopony knows about.”
“And that’s what we call job security, my friend.”
The two stallions continue on as you sit down at the table with Fluttershy, not much differently than yesterday. You take a deep breath.
“Harder than we thought, huh?”
“They sit two rows down from me,” she says. “Both of them are gone.”
You take a drink of your coffee, unsure what to say.
“Just answering the receptionist this morning was hard,” you reply.
The only sound that fills the breakroom is the gentle hum of ‘environmentally friendly’ fluorescent lighting.
“If you can’t get anything done today,” you begin to say. “Don’t worry about it.”
You stand up.
“Look productive. Do what you can. Take off early. Do something nice for you tonight. You’ve earned it.”
She looks up to you.
“Did we do a good job?”
You pause, pondering her question.
“I don’t know.”
You leave the break room, move down the hall and into your office. An anger begins to swell inside you. How dare Brand do this to you? How dare you be put into this position?
You close the door to your private office behind you, and notice that your lock is broken. You grumble to yourself. You sit behind your desk, then open up an internet browser. You crack your knuckles.
“Fuck it,” you mutter. “Fuck this place.”
You type ‘Open jobs in Manehattan’ and hit enter.
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Office Love when? Turns out, Office Love now!
I understand that misery Anon, I really dude, the money, the benefits, not even have enough to be consider a millionaire all of that will mean nothing if the job makes you miserable, no among of money is worth that torture. You really need to know and do what you love, if you work just to survive and decided to bite the bullet and just work, then its not worth it.
Ah what do I know, we all have our stories and our reasons, maybe the important is just keep looking, for doing what you want and/ or make what you need to do something enjoyable, like what Homer Simpson made of his job
Thanks for the update
Whew... an update to this story, eh? Certainly an interesting update!
Nicely written... and whew, poor Anon..
Keep it up dude.
Talk about stress.
Office Love when
Yeah I had a feeling Anon was really going to dread the workday after having to put the axe down. I would hate to be in his position.
Poor Fluttershy, thou art cruel...
No, buck! Thou art the epitome of cruelty, Priest!
An poor Anon at this gutter of a job... Hither is something quite fitting:
pre00.deviantart.net/1bc6/th/pre/i/2018/095/7/2/anon_had_enough_ponies_for_life___2_by_yoye_wolfgrel-dc7ylhi.png
https://www.deviantart.com/art/Anon-had-enough-ponies-for-life-2-738965574
Although he must be saying it about the job, not ponies this time
I have seen this story before and I think read a chapter or two. Then got distracted by a deployment or something.
That being said I have noticed the new original artwork and remembered that I have not finished the title.
Office life is a bitch... I don't mind the firing, it's just the dread and anxiety of not knowing if you're going to have a job the next week or not.
I like your story, though this chapter was a little depressing. Hope to read more
When is this going to continue?
9217911
Sooner or later. I don't want to make promises in case I can't keep them
I like this story. It really makes me empathize for the characters and their struggles. They're relatable, believable, and I can actually feel the fog of dread.
Well done!~
-Ru
If this story doesn't have any quotes from "the office" by the queen there will be trouble.
9217988
Hey, just wanted to mention that I really enjoyed reading through this. Maybe it's just me, but in most stories I've seen so far, the core characters are treated like they fart rainbows, almost literally. I think this is one of the very few stories that take a darker overtone and run with it, visiting interesting places - and it doesn't have a problem with putting the characters outside not just their comfort zones, but ours as well. It feels as though it's one of those stories, you know - the ones that take an established canon and just do something new with it.
Congratulations.
Is this story dead
i really hope this story comes back to life
9735958
9766406
I apologize for the wait. Expect things to start up by 2020. I've always been bad about updating this story in a timely manner, but it is coming.
9766650
You know i was first that ah fuck, you gonna make us wait that long and then i remembered that 2020 isnt really that far away and now im really sad that i got reminded of that
Well this is a little behind I see the comment about 2020 so I’ll put in read later. Also really love the art work. There is so much detail in it! Also anon’s on his face hand reminds me of hulk for some reason.
9766650
I bothered you about updates for Office Love on the Chans and I will continue to bother you about it in the future post-2020.
10002951
Good. Cause 2020 is be the year we finish it. I have all the chapters outlined. I just need to put fingers to keyboard. I plan to finish all my long stories in 2020. cause I'm broke af
10002953
Finishing stories gets you paid does it?
10002955
nope
I just don't have money to pay for the distractions from writing
10002959
Oh I see.
Well good luck.
I'll leave you with my old shitpost.
FLUTTERPRIEST
YOU CUNT
OFFICE LOVE WHEEEEEEN
HOP TO IT
I WILL EAT YOU
Been reading this story for a couple of weeks now. At least I have something to look forward when or if this updates
*poke*
*kick*
will this ever get updated?
10214454
10201366
10191478
i hope so. i want to finish this story this year. I've been psyching myself out of writing because i want to write ALL of the final chapters, then release them weekly. But it feels like such a daunting task that i havent started. the plot is all already written out. i just need to expand it into prose
10215717
that’s good to hear. But hey there’s no rush so take all the time u need my guy
I kinda want to see a one shot where Anon goes out with Brand
is this history dead??
Are you gonna finish this ?
Good story feels like an actual book change the characters out with humans and you got yourself a bona fide story
Priest! When's this gunna finish? I love this story.
Anon the Giga chad