Ollie trudged into work; a shipping and receiving clerk at Stanton Manufacturing. He sat at his desk next to the docks. He placed his thermos and lunch pail next to his desk. He retrieved a clipboard from the upper left hand drawer and walked down an aisle of shipments on skids. He arranged the papers in the order to be shipped.
“You look like crap,” Mr. Benning, the factory manager, said making his morning rounds. “What are you doing at work today?”
“It’s my job,” Ollie said.
“I should send you home,” Mr. Benning said.
“So that our Des Moines shipment ends up in Denver?” Ollie said.
“You’re so afraid someone else might do your job,” Mr. Benning said. “This place won’t fold if you miss a day or two until you feel better.”
“I’m not doing it for this place,” Ollie said. “I don’t even like this place. I don’t even like you. I love my job. No, I don’t give a crap about you or this place, I care about me. The quickest way to recovery is for me to do what I love to do.”
“Good job,” Mr. Benning said and walked away. After a few steps he turned toward Ollie. “I don’t particularly like you either.”
“But ya love your job, right?” Ollie said.
“Yeah,” Mr. Benning said, “and that’s what I like about you.”
“I feel the same,” Ollie said.
“You coming in here and being miserable makes me feel good,” Mr. Benning said. “When you’re all happy I hate it.”
“I promise to get well soon, Mr. Benning,” Ollie said.
“Anything to spite me,” Mr. Benning said.