My JackAss Boss

Do you remember life before the internet?

It was one of those nights where I had to work late. Jane abhors the fact that I work late. She says I need to get a new job if I must work that long just to get my job done. She knows I hate my job and the place where I work. There are many places I would rather be.

My boss has no life at all. He is a tireless bore. He works late as it is the only life he has. Of course, he expects me to do the same. That is the thing about promising new relationships, you go out of your way to make your partner happy. I can see me doing this for a long, long time. That is trying to make her happy. I have never been good at making someone else happy. I am new to relationships that are important to me. I am deeply in love with Jane.

Just as I was locking up my computer for the day, my boss asked me to have a beer with him after work. I tried my best to decline but could not find the right words. What could go wrong? He said he had something to talk about. He always said that. I was getting a raise. More than likely, he was lonely and was seeking some type of companionship. All he does is talk about his divorce and that happened twelve years ago. 

I told Jane I would be home late. She seemed a tad annoyed, yet she understood. It was asparagus season in Germany, and she seemed quite excited. Then again,

 what Germans are not. I love asparagus, still I cannot catch the German zeal for the springtime delicacy. I told her I would be right home, and I genuinely believed it at the time. 

Mike and I went to the Irish pub near our office in Mainz. That was just like Mike. He always sought places that were familiar to where he grew up. His bitterness toward his ex-wife is still fresh and sharp and it leaks out of every sentence. He ordered shots for both of us. I noticed it was not the only shot glass on the table. He arrived earlier than I as I stopped to make a phone call to Jane. 

There we sat having a shot and a beer. He talked about his ex-wife less than usual and appeared to be enjoying himself. I did not know him all that well and did not know if he usually drank like this. He told me that he had a presentation for me now that I was in a committed relationship. He nodded to the waiter showing he wanted a beer, and I waved my hands to decline. I spoke in choppy German and he in English from the deep south. I do not even know how the term “fixin to go” translates into German. I can hardly translate it into English. 

He was wearing a tan trench coat that seemed too heavy for this spring day. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a compact disc. For a second, I thought he might be giving me files for work. We worked in accounting and that is what we did. 

“Here I would like you to have this.”  He handed an unwrapped cd with his left hand while awkwardly shaking my right hand with the other. 

I looked at it and noticed it as a CD by Sting. It may have been “The Dream of the Blue Turtles.” I owned that album at one time in my life.

“This album will put her in the mood.” He told me. 

It took me a while to get out of the bar, despite me constantly, inadvertently looking at my watch. 

The walk to the U-Bahn was short. I had ten minutes until the next train. I decided to stop in the shop next to the train station. I was hoping to find a gift for Jane. The only person working there was closing the kiosk as I walked in. In his right hand he held a bouquet of your normal everyday balloons. Some were red, some yellow and the rest blue. I handed him ten euros and he handed me the balloons.

The train ride was brief and awkward. The balloons kept hitting those sitting around me. I needed a payphone

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