This May Well Represent The Last Straw

The Boss has been absent from the office for two weeks now, and I have been very busy, although in a very productive, on-top-of-it, getting-shit-done kind of a way. Mostly, anyway. But upon her return everything has been gone through with the fine toothed comb, so to speak, and this is actually slightly more painful and intrusive than a very bad experience in Customs, or maybe even jail.

To set the scene, The Boss is staring at her screen, which is some distance from me and at the wrong angle for me to be able to see anyway, and is randomly interrogating me based upon two weeks of e-mails. I've had to condense this considerably, because it basically lasted for eight hours. Dark days indeed, this office is steadily turning into some Village of the Damned type scene. I'm expecting a thick mist to come rolling under the door any moment now.

The Boss : "Did you do this one?"

Here's me : "What one?"

The Boss : "Denmark."

Here's me : "I did a lot of Denmark. Which Denmark?"

The Boss : "Have you done all of these then?"

Here's me : "Well I think so, but I mean, can you be specific?"

The Boss : "Did you do all the Denmark or not?"

Here's me : "Er... " oh fuck it "Yes."

The Boss : "Did you do this one?"

Here's me : "What one?"

The Boss : "Mombasa."

Here's me : "Yes.

The Boss : "Finland?"

Here's me : "What Finland?"

The Boss : "Norway."

Here's me : "I did a Norway."

The Boss : "But Finland?"

Here's me : "What Finland?"

The Boss : "Any Finland."

Here's me : "I don't think so."

The Boss : "So you didn't do it?"

Here's me : "What? Wait. I didn't think there was a Finland job..?"

The Boss : "So you didn't do Finland. You can't just leave things lying, you know."

Here's me : "Was there a Finland job?"

The Boss : "Did you do all these to Galveston."

Here's me : "Yes. What Finland?"

The Boss : "Never mind. Did you do those invoices for Frances?"

Here's me : "Yes. What Finland job was that, again?"

The Boss : "All of them?"

Here's me : "Yes."

The Boss : "Did you do this one?"

Here's me : "WHAT one?"

The Boss : "Do you have a problem with me asking you questions?"

Here's me : "No. Seriously. I just can't answer them if I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

The Boss : "Did you do Galveston?"

Here's me, staring at the ceiling and speaking in a kind of a whimper : "You asked me that about thirty seconds ago."

The Boss, dangerously : "Do you think I'm giving you a hard time?"

Here's me, carefully : "No. I am... " think goddamit think "..just, sometimes, not sure of exactly what it is that you're asking."

The Boss : "That's because you never listen. You need to learn. Did you do Norway?"

Here's me : "Yes. You've already asked me that."

The Boss : "No I didn't. I asked you about Finland."

Here's me : "No you oh what's the point right ok."

The Boss : "So you didn't do Norway?"

Here's me : "No, I did."

The Boss : "You said you didn't do it."

Here's me : "No, I said I didn't do Finland."

The Boss, angry, triumphant, insane : "Ah, so you didn't do Finland! You just ignored the Finland job!"

Here's me, talking to a fixed point in the middle distance : "Truthfully, no, I did not do the Finland job, but there was no Finland job so I think it's fairly excusable."

The Boss, dripping some sort of odious malice : "Well Iiiiii see a Finland."

I bound over quickly and brightly.

Here's me : "Really my goodness I must have made a terrible mistake where is the Finland I have failed to do please??"

The Boss, actually, for real - this'll blow your fucking minds, kids - puts her hand flat over the screen, attempting to mask the email which is open upon it, and glares at me with raw, naked contempt.

Here's me, smiling like The Joker : "Which Finland please?"

The Boss : "Never mind."

Here's me, all eyeballs and teeth : "I need to learn."

The Boss, sullenly and aggressively, drops her hand from the screen.

Here's me, in the flat dead tones of the new murderer : "That", I state, indicating the screen with a pointing finger that barely shows a tremble despite the hell that is flowing through my veins, "is Norway."

The Boss folds her arms and regards me with her 'orrible little beady eyes for a moment, and I can almost see the wheels of whatever diabolical instrument drives her mind turning, then slowly intones, with an air of utter disgust :

"Did you do anything while I was away?"