No Call, No Show

“It’s fifteen minutes past nine,” Wednesday said to no one in particular. “According to the handbook, that is grounds to be written up.”

“By whom?” Friday asked.

Wednesday thought about that. The handbook said that the write-up would be from the employee’s supervisor. However, Monday was the boss.

“Monday will have to write himself up when he gets back in,” Wednesday said, satisfied with his own answer.

“Maybe you should right him up.”

“Mutiner.” Wednesday ducked low to his desk and in hushed tones repeated himself. “Muntiner.”

“I believe the term is ‘mutineer’.”

“Shut up!” he said, visibly startling himself. “Pardon my French.”

“Who would a write-up even go to?”

Wednesday again found himself without an answer so he opened his mouth and improvised. “Mid-year review board.”

“Shut up. There is no such thing.”

“There is.” There wasn’t–or to Wednesday’s knowledge, there wasn’t.

“Who’s on the board?”

“It’s secret. I don’t even know.”

Friday thought back to when he has completed his “Mid-year self-evaluation”; he’d filled in each question with complaints about Wednesday. His heart suddenly sunk.

“You’ve got mail!” Friday’s computer said. His heart sank further.

Wednesday clicked the “Check Mail” button. “Inbox (0)” and his heart sank as well.