I'm a steak

I get a call from work, quite unexpectedly, given the fact that I'd just pulled out of the parking lot…and I’m pretty sure that I’d picked enough cotton to deserve a good night’s sleep. I answer the call, somehow managing a response in my ‘work voice’ while I picture the counter on my cellphone daytime minutes spin like a tampered rickshaw meter.

“Can you come back for a minute? Something important has come up and ‘S’ wants to see you”…now S is a Russian girl at work, who I’m pretty sure has mob connections.

I park and think if today's the day. Will she make me an offer that I can’t refuse – I've always wanted to work for the mob. Although I like the suits, the food, and the finesse of the Italians, the Russian mob isn’t too bad a place to start. After a few years of work-ex, the Capones will surely look me up.

I walk back into the office switching between my Brando and Pacino expressions, unable to decide which one would clinch the deal.

“S is waiting”, says the secretary, looking confused at my expressions and probably wondering if I’d swallowed a donut and splashed hot coffee on my face.

“I know, I know” ...the voice was calm, the voice was confident, the voice meant business.

“Hey M3, sorry to bug you at this hour” says S.

“Not a problem. What’s up?”…darn!!what’s with the voice??? man, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Just four steps and Pacino decides to leave me…and Pesci takes over?

“blah blah blah…needs a new cable. Can you fix it?” asks S, and I am still mad at Pacino.

“Sure, will be a couple of minutes”…surely you have problems with connections lady – mobs or otherwise! Che, what a letdown! Nevermind, the Russians can't afford me anyway.

I trudge through the hallway trying to hide my face from folks I’d happily said bye to a few minutes ago - just to deprive them of the sinful glee on seeing a colleague being called back…like a toothless welcome smile you’d get from a cell-buddy.

Stealthily, I do the needful and try the exit a second time. I’m stopped by my curious secretary who now has gathered courage on seeing my normal face.

“What was wrong?” she asks, trying hard to swallow the “with your face” part.

“hmmm, nothing serious, I fixed it. Alright, I’m outta here for real. Byes are very short-lived around here. So here goes a Namasté ” I say, with the typical palms-together pose.

“ a…what now? I’m a steak ??” she asks, in an amused-confused-I give up on you-voice.

LOL! "Yes, I’m a steak !!"