The office party was in full swing when I arrived. I wasn’t in the mood for a party but this agency sends me a lot of work. I needed to show up.
“This late in the day? On the 23rd?”
“Yes,” I said, “He’s got a meeting on the 27th with a potential buyer for his company and he wants a big, impressive document to hand him when they meet.”
She nodded in commiseration, and looked around the room to see who else had arrived.
“His name is Ebeneezer Scrooge,” I continued. “What kind of name is that? The guy’s a Christmas fruitcake. I don’t think I can get the document done that fast.”
“So don’t do it.”
“I know.” I sighed. “But he’s shutting down the company if he can’t sell it. I feel sorry for his employees. I met one of them, Bob Cratchit. Such a nice guy.”
“I have the cure for guilt,” Jennifer said. She grabbed two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.
“Cheers,” she said, as we raised our glasses.
Tomorrow: Day II: An uneasy Christmas memory. (Find links to all the fabulous BlogFestivus participants at blogdramedy.wordpress.com)