I hate my job. The customer is not always right. In fact, the customer is almost never right. You can be damn sure that the customer will be wrong every single time.
And no, I will not give you that sweet deal; it will end up coming out of my commission; if you can’t afford the phone, don’t buy it. And yes, your data plan will still cost $34.95 a month. And no, that does not include the price of your phone, which is extra. And why on earth do you think you can get away with only paying $6.99 for an iPhone 6?
“We’ve had several complaints about you, Diane,” my manager says. “They think you’re rude and unfriendly.”
“I will not entertain stupid questions.”
“I think I’ll let you go for the day. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”
So this is how one gets fired, I think to myself as I sit on the bench at the subway station, waiting on my train. I gotta tell ya, I was kind of hoping he would go all Donald Trump on me—one eye squinted, lips half pursed, pointing his finger at me like a pistol. Pow! “You’re fired!”
I fall asleep and find myself transported to an island paradise where the water is as blue as the sky, the sand white as snow, and the plush vegetation a deep green, fertilized by the rich, volcanic soil. I stand on the edge of a cliff, hold my hands above my head, and dive into the clear water.
They found my body on the tracks after the #5 train passed through. I guess I was sleepwalking.
word count . . . let’s just say I went over 😉
This is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: write a story in 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) using the provided photo prompt as inspiration.
I was inspired by one of my favorite Twilight Zone episodes: “A Stop at Willoughby”
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