Year of the Chick (book 1 in the "Year of the Chick" series)

Chapter Three

Christmas with the family seemed a distant memory now, as early January brought with it a grudging return to the office life. My office life meant planning and analyzing print advertising, for a big-box Canadian retail store. Whenever I repeated that sentence to friends, their faces would glow and they would nod in approval. “Your job sounds really interesting!” they’d say. Maybe it’s because a sentence on its own couldn’t capture the extent of the boredom.

I stared at my log-in screen, half asleep from the absence of a latte (which was a no-no beverage on my weight-loss plan), and half stupid because I couldn’t remember my password. I knew it started with an uppercase and ended with a number for extra security, but beyond those details I was clueless.

A few more seconds passed before I noticed the silver picture frame on my desk, with my cat’s precious face staring back.

Suddenly the password returned: Kittylover27.

I typed it in with ease until I stumbled on an awkward thought: my password is Kittylover27.

The twenty-seven-year-old cat-obsessed single girl?

I immediately changed it to Manlover27, with just the tiniest feeling that my life was about to change.

“Hey Romer, it’s almost nine-thirty. Are you coming to this meeting or not?”

I was too busy repeating the “Manlover” mantra in my head to produce a response.

“Maybe you’re too busy picturing David Beckham naked.”

That’s usually true.

I rolled my eyes at Todd, the lanky blond in the navy sweater. As Advertising Planning Manager, Todd held the title “boss” but rarely ever put it to the test. Instead he would just make fun of himself. Or us minions. Or the world. I was more than happy with this strange variation of a boss. Anything to help the time go by.

“Yeah I’m coming,” I said, as I rummaged under piles of paper for my favourite pen. “And YOU’RE the one obsessed with David Beckham! Does your wife even know about your ‘man-crush’ yet?”

“Hell ya she knows. He’s on my top-five list of dudes I’d do.”

I grabbed my favourite pen with the easy-flow ink, smirking to myself as I followed him down the corridor.

My married boss has a list of “dudes he’d do.” Yup, just a typical Monday.

When we entered the boardroom it was buzzing with bland post-holiday talk.

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Eat enough turkey?”

“Did your kids like their presents?”

“So how much were you dreading the alarm clock today?”

And blah, blah, blah, and shoot me in the face.

The answers were peppered with laughter. For my part I simply watched in horror.

Is this what it means to be social in the office? To pretend we give a damn about each other’s lives? And if we’re really as tired as we claim, then why not a pre-meeting nap?

I shuffled through the beige-coloured room, passing leather chairs and only stopping when I found one in the back, where I’d hopefully be spared of any human interaction.

Once seated I began a thorough scan of the men. Well I AM on a twelve-month man-quest after all…

Cancelling out Todd who was my boss, married, and sometimes protective like a “work dad,” I started with the one to my right. He was Ron, a guy with an okay personality and an okay bod to match. He was also the guy who should’ve been chewing gum wads of gum. Unfortunately for all, he did not like gum and he did not like mints. But he did love tuna, coffee, and as of this morning’s breath (ugh), bacon and eggs.