One More Month at Heaven’s Gate Corp.

I don’t think this job is worth it anymore.

“Have they refilled the Coke in the vending machine yet? I am really getting sick of Root Beer.”

“Nope, I think that guy comes on Thursdays but since it was Christmas he had the day off.”

As I check my phone to figure out which day it is “No more Coke until Thursday? Damn.”

I had the strangest lift scheduled for this morning so all I wanted was a moment of relief after dealing with needless complexity on such a routine task. I should have suspected that things were going to go awry after looking at the chit. Improper field usage, hazy info, and the bizarre name should have been red flags but they crashed into my tired mind with mostly muted white sound. He wasn’t a bad guy by any measure, just a typical lonely man with an average amount of regret.

I am at the break room table looking at my Root Beer with my head resting on my arms. I see this girl who has been here for a couple of months walk up to the soda vending machine. After reading the scrolling message she makes another selection. I am in the same boat so I decide to make a conversation attempting to identify with a similar set of problems.

“How has your day been?”

It is around 2 in the afternoon so co-workers usually give the canned response. They are done being tired after lunch and only have a few more hours to work before they get to spend time the way that they want. They get to spend time and spend a little bit of money with their own directives.

“Oh, I had a pretty exciting one earlier but after that they all were pretty mellow.”

“My day has been uneventful, aside from not being able to drink the soda that I wanted.”

“Diet Coke?”

“I guess more of the machine is out than I knew.”

“I wish I was at my house, we have a bunch left over from our girl’s night out last night.”

I know that she was just trying to be nice to a guy that looked bummed out. I hated her for the offer of a soda that I hated. I clearly wanted a Coke and was staring at my shitty Root Beer. I casually toss her aside like I do with all the dead folks I bring into heaven. My scheduled Pine Meadows Home lift is in about 3 minutes and all I want to do is piss out some of my unwanted Root Beer.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you had a good time with your girlfriends.”

Clearly, if she had a good time she wouldn’t be as chipper as she was or have left over beverages in her fridge. I bet she has to fake fun just as much as she has to fake being nice to me.

“We watched movies and played board games and I couldn’t believe how much my friends bitched about their boyfriends. Why can’t people find someone in life that actually matters? I know that everything happens for a reason. I believe that. I just don’t think my friends do. It was an alright time.”

“I’m sorry your night went like that. I have to head off to the next lift, Pine Meadows Home. See you again.”

I walked the wrong direction out of the door toward the restroom instead of the portal. I could see the shadow change as her head tracked my incorrect movement direction. I had to pee. I didn’t have the time or the motivation to share anything other than my next lift.

The room smelled and looked sterile. I have seen a bunch of these. I have never been in this one before. It looked like it was spring time outside, maybe 3 or 4 in the afternoon? Soft, made for comfort shoes made quick brisk steps past my closed door flickering the light coming through my long, vertical rectangular window with wires inside of it to prevent shattering. I thought about my daughter’s new job. I remembered the balsa wood glider I made with my son. I thought about taking my wife’s clothing off when she was 27. I felt bad about getting fired. I know that the white lies made people happy. I hear some beeping. I close my eyes.

After tying my left shoe I look up to see if there are any empty seats. The end of the day is kind of hectic and we all dread the call of an emergency death. I am pretty safe being near the end of the list. I sit down on the wall and check my phone.

Some people are chatting about heading to Berk’s Bar as I look at the same posts I have already seen twice already. I see someone knock my coat off of the rack as they leave.