So it’s Friday the 13th huh?
In one of the offices where I used to work there were nine or ten of us. We were a quiet lot. We all got along just fine apart from one girl who used to bug the hell out of us.
She had three faults.
The first fault was that she was a very nice kid. She was always very good humoured and we all liked her. So where is the fault in that I hear you ask? Well, the fault lay in the fact that she had the other two faults and because she was such a nice kid we couldn’t complain about them.
The second fault was one we got used to over time. It was her habit of chatting to her friends on a regular basis on the telephone and she always had to chat at the top of her voice. We knew every intimate detail of her private life and frankly a lot of it was best left unknown.
The third one was the real killer though.
She had a thing about Friday the 13th, and we used to dread the day.
The day would start with her waltzing into the office with a loud screech of “It’s Friday the thirteenth today, lads. Whose going to get all the bad luck?”. We would smile tolerantly and let it pass knowing that worse was to come.
Sure enough, for the entire day, any event, no matter how trivial would bring forth the screech “Friday the thirteenth! Unlucky for some.” It didn’t matter whether someone dropped a PC on their foot or just dropped a pencil on the floor, it always elicited the same screech. I swear she sat there for the entire day watching like a hawk for any incident that could be construed, even in the most obscure way as being unlucky.
We used to quietly hatch little plans to shut her up or get rid of her for the day, but we always ran up against her First Fault – she was just too nice. None of us had the heart to tell her to shut the fuck up. Occasionally someone would sigh, and she would immediately pounce on this as some impending ailment and the screech would echo around the walls, out the door and down the corridor.
The one good thing about Friday the thirteenth was that it was always followed by a weekend, which allowed our frayed nerves to settle a little.
I haven’t heard from her in years. On Friday the thirteenth I some times sit quietly wondering if I could hear that screech echoing around the mountaintops, but she must have moved beyond screech-range.
She was a lovely girl, but Jayzus her voice could cut glass.