Mother’s Little Helper

One of my colleagues has trouble figuring out the computer system at work. She is old. In her 50s. Has a family and two kids. One of them is gay and the other just had a kid. Which was pretty cool actually. We called her Mother.

She needs help turning on her computer and logging in.  When she is on the phone she doesn’t know how to look up the information real quickly. So she needs help.

The supervisors agreed. Help was brought in.

Things went well for my colleague. She was given tips and advice on how to make her work easier.  A lot easier.

My other colleague and I didn’t get it though. I mean, how is it possible that a woman who underperforms gets to stay there for so long while others who fuck up less get fired?  Don’t get me wrong. She is a fine woman, very social and kind. In fact I think she is one of the kindest people I have met in 2009.  It’s just that it took a more than average effort to get her to a certain level at work. But then again it’s not my place to comment on that and I for one I am happy that she got to stay.

During the lunchbreak I went for a cigarette. It was good.  I went back to the lunchroom and I saw my colleagues with the helper. It was a cute blonde. Nice rack too. Well I am male. I pay attention to those things. She was a “Girl-next-door” type.  Cute and feisty.

I sat down with the three of them. They were discussing work. It was pretty interesting.  Then the helper asked one of the colleagues how she was doing. Apparently the two of them knew each other from high school. It was fun listening to the two of them catching up. Both of them were curious about how they fared after they lost contact.

The break was over and the helper and I engaged in conversation.  She was pretty nice really. Very down to earth and a great conversationalist.  She told me that she was studying to become a social worker. She was a university student working at the phoneprovider on a part time basis.

I know a thing or two about being a social worker and that’s where our conversation was headed.

“You have to write self reflections about everything you go through. I don’t know how many I have written but it’s a lot of them. Saying “it’s fine”  just isn’t enough.”

“Ofcourse you did. It’s important. You have to relate to yourself first before being able to help your client.”

“Yes, you do..”, she said with a surprised look on her face. A face that was trying to say “How do you know that?”.

“Yes, have you cried yet? I heard from some former students who also studied to become a social worker that they cried because of the horrible things they experienced and done to other people.”

“No, heh, my experiences weren’t THAT bad! But some people in my class…wow, they have really gone through some of the heavier stuff. And yes, they cried. It’s horrible.”

My colleague wasn’t trying to interfere. She was enjoying the conversation and judging by the look on her face she was happy that her helper and I were talking.

The break was over and I had to head back to the workfloor. Our conversation ended but the blonde sure was nice.

As I headed back to the workfloor, I started thinking of my so called relationship. I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks now. I was unsure of the status of the relationship.  The last time we talked, it wasn’t a big succes either.  She left me standing as I walked home. I started to think that perhaps it was over. No, it was over. Why else would I be left standing?  If so then isn’t it time to move on? I think it’s time to move on. I should move on. I can’t stand being alone. I am never alone for long.

The afternoon that followed was an awkward one. The Girl In Purple, the Girl In Pink were there. The Girl In Purple’s spirited personality rubbed off on a lot  of people.  But there was something special about the blonde helper who I will refer to as “Mother’s Little Helper”.

Mother’s Little Helper sat next to Mother.  We were looking for eyecontact. I hate it when I get busted hehe. And she busted me several times.

Then some weird shit happened. I have been having trouble with the girls of the “Goodlooking women go here” corner. One of them was giving me shit. And a lot of it too.

Mother’s Little Helper started to help me. The old fashioned way. She popped her claws and started bitching back, putting them all back in place. But if that wasn’t enough she just continued. At the end of the day one of the girls walked by us and man if looks could kill, Mother’s Little Helper would be dead.  But she just sat there with a big victorious grin on her face as if it was saying: Eat that bitches!

In my mind I started to laugh. Holy smokes, this is what she did? This is what she can do? I am impressed.  She gave me a confident look. I was all smiles. I don’t even know her name.