Jerry worked in Accounts Receivable. He died about two years ago. I don't think the pressures of the job killed him but you can never be quite sure these days. A career in Receivable is a subtle assassin; a deft hand with its own voodoo enchantments and at serving up poisons disguised as ambrosia.
Sometimes I think I see Jeff's anxious shade still wandering the empty cubicles, doomed to haunt the photocopier for eternity, seeking the replacement ink cartridges he could never find in life because our parsimonious office manager always hid them. Although her drastic tactics didn't help the bottom line one jot.
But such paranormal activity is just my imagination playing tricks, as I toil by myself in this deserted and silent former place of business. Everybody else is working from home today and the phone doesn't ring anymore. I tap on my computer keyboard with one finger and it sounds like Chinese water torture.
I remember when the elevator used to ping as it arrived at our floor. Then a satisfying whoosh as the doors opened, discharging a gaggle of chatty executives into the lobby. Oh the days of dynamism and endeavor. Now there is just the monotonous hum of fluorescent lightning and the ghostly footfall of long gone colleagues.
Even if Death had not taken him, I doubt that Jerry would still be here. We no longer have any accounts to receive so what would he do? I guess Jacob Marley is the only job he is qualified for in the current climate. But Jeff's spirit would not be caught up in his own chains, of course. No, instead he'd be enshrouded in spectral graph paper and unpaid bills. "I told you so. I did try to warn you," he would moan and wail, then fade away like all our profits of yesteryear.
So here I sit, acting the Hamlet in a desolate lonely conference room. But the situation is not really that Shakespearean except for the ghost, probably closer to the Theater of the Absurd, I'd guess, The Chairs by Ionesco maybe. Meanwhile, since I can't afford to retire or quit, I'll search the Internet for a reasonably priced exorcist. It's time for the spirit of this place to move on to a better place. Sooner rather than later for the sake of my sanity.
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