(THIS POST CONTAINS BAD LANGUAGE)
The winter air is crisp. Apparently it’s the coldest day of the year so far. I can believe it. That doesn’t stop work though. They’d have us out here slaving regardless of the weather. The place could be on fire and we’d still have to work. The breath pours out of my mouth in thick, wispy bellows; so thick I can barely see through them.
I hear a voice from behind that I immediately recognise and my face screws up in a hateful scowl. It’s the line manager.
Stupid fucking bastard!
My loathing for this prick knows literally no bounds. In part, my hatred is down to the fact he got the job of line manager ahead of me. Yes, I’m bitter, but I’m better qualified, have greater experience and I’m more respected by the staff. Facts are facts.
That job should have been mine!
Unfortunately, there’s no qualifications, experience or respect in the world can beat good old fashioned nepotism. Yup; he’s the owners nephew. He was always useless at the job I’m doing now, but he’s even worse at the line manager’s job. All he’s good at is sitting in his lofty position and lording it over the rest of us.
Today is no exception. He’s telling us all in his typically undiplomatic fashion to stop being lazy and work faster; that we’re keeping him from getting home early. Nice! He has that option. We all have to stay here to the bitter end regardless of whether the job gets done or not.
He approaches me. He always approaches me. I can tell he has that gloating look on his ugly face without looking at him. He comes in close and speaks quietly while I work. He tells me I’d better be finished in the next ten minutes or he’ll dock my pay. He has no jurisdiction in that department, but he has to come over and try to get a rise out of me. He loves that he got the job ahead of me and always lets me know it.
I continue with my work as he has his sly little digs at me. I won’t rise to it. I never do. I just quietly hope he dies.
That’s right you little dickhead! Die! Fucking die! I hate you so much! Drop the fuck dead! Fall from your high horse and break your goddamned neck!
Just thinking the hateful thoughts makes me feel slightly better. As if wishing death upon him is some form of revenge.
He finishes having his fun mocking me and starts to walk away. I don’t look up or anything. I just continue with my job as ever.
You know when you hear a noise and immediately know something bad has happened? That’s what that noise was. I stop doing what I’m doing and look around. Everybody is still working away. There’s one thing that stands out though. The line manager is on the floor. He’s slipped on some black ice or something. He’s obviously banged his head hard because there’s already a pool of crimson gathering.
I stare at him for a moment. Then I look up and see if anybody else has noticed. They haven’t. They daren’t look away from their work. That’s a shame. He’ll probably die if he’s left there any longer without anybody helping; that’s if he isn’t dead already.
Oh well; this work isn’t going to do itself…