Tina sat in her chair fuming.
She hated everything about her life. Her ugly cubicle, the ridiculous new account she was on, her idiotic boss – most of the time she stared at the ceiling and wondered how her company even existed. Tina had hit rock bottom and this horrible place was her 10-ton anchor.
So, she decided to get revenge. She eased up on her work like those fat cats in the glass offices, and she pretended not to know the answers to anything like those dopes in IT, and she sulked by the fridge doling out rumors to anyone that could plod within earshot. She would beat them at their own game yet.
In time there were roving packs of Tina’s. They moved in formation throughout the office, chiding all that was below them, which was (luckily) most things. A rule of a ridicule, her subjects fearful of her swagger, Tina’s role as drama queen of the corporate headquarters was one she never wished to see end.
She was let go discreetly on a Friday. As Tina gathered her things she couldn’t help but blame the company. If only they’d been better, then she wouldn’t have had to act this way. How could they do this to her, after all she’d done for them?
Tina carried her tiny box of responsibilities past her old friends. Their venomous fangs were shelved. So much solidarity in complaining before, and yet where was the unity when one was in need? They couldn’t even look her in the eye.
In time Tina found a new job. In time she hated it and blamed it for her sorrows. In time she was let go. Again. And again. And again.
When she looked back, now counting the days until retirement, she couldn’t help but chuckle at all of the bad luck she’d had. So many greedy corporations and disloyal coworkers, it all made her sick to her stomach. Tina was above that, she recalled as she sat alone in her apartment with the TV blaring. Her mind paced through the familiar hallways of a dead empire. She recalled people that hadn’t remembered her name in 25 years and why she was, still, above them.
Tina was above happiness itself.