Francesca couldn't suppress a jaw-cracking yawn as she made her way back up in the office elevator, juggling the greasy cardboard box with the rest of her half-eaten lazy dinner pizza in one hand and her work badge in the other as she counted the floors, impatiently tapping her foot each time the indicator changed.
Stupid vanity top floors of the highest skyscraper in the city. Stupid company. Stupid incompetent people she worked with that fucked up the live production environment with a "checked" major code change pull request that hadn't actually been looked at by the reviewers, just okayed... right before an end of the month payroll processing weekend. Stupid badly designed legacy software that'd started throwing a tantrum and screaming because of the change half an hour ago.
Stupid Francesca for being seemingly the only one that actually cared, and had set up an alarm to warn her in case of problems. Stupid COO that'd locked down all VPN access 'to make people come back into the office and get away from their cushy remote work play time, so we can be a family again', which meant she actually had to physically return after hours to fix this, like it was still the 80s.
She really needed a new job, one that appreciated her, but who the fuck would hire her in this economy? So she'd sighed, put on her big girl panties and had come back in to work to fix the fucking mess. To make sure the thousands of people employed by the company world-wide would get paid on time. Not that anyone would care, or know that she'd done anything. As usual.
At least she had the elevator to herself at 11 PM on a Friday night. Nobody to comment on how she looked. To sneer at her that the company had a dress code, and that she really needed a haircut. No sickening sardine can of cologne and perfume like in the mornings. Not that she usually rolled into work that early. Still, sometimes there was an emergency, and then she had to crawl out of her nice warm bed at an inhuman hour, and face the hordes.
Francesca used her badge to scratch her ass through her sweatpants. Oh yeah, that hit the spot. Now if only she could get the other one... Her left instep ineffectually rubbed against her other shin, trying to get rid of that itch... and failing.
Another yawn.
Ugh, she should still be curled up on the couch, eating her dinner and watching GAP instead of doing this. Fixing other people's errors. Cleaning up their messes. Again. They'd never fucking learn this way, would they? Of course, that implied they wanted to learn. Which these coworkers absolutely didn't.
She sniffed her hoodie. Made a face. Damn, maybe she should have taken that shower first. Or at least put on a clean one. Oh well, didn't matter. Not like there'd be anyone here. Or that anyone cared what she looked or smelled like in general. And in the end, she'd have gotten all sweaty again cycling here anyway. So... fuck it.
A thumping bass assaulted Francesca's ears as she climbed the floors. Ugh, were the fucking traders on the floors below them having another party? She'd heard some of the cleaning crew complain about them a couple of times when she was the last one left in the office for the umpteenth time, as was her unfortunate habit.
She angrily swiped her badge at the elevator lock-out slot to be able to get to her company's floors, get past the noise... but she could still hear it, feel it, even after the thing'd begrudgingly beeped and she'd started moving upwards again.
Great. Fantastic. That would make this whole clusterfuck so much more pleasant.
Ding
Finally.
The doors opened, and Francesca was hit by an overwhelming wall of sound that almost made her drop her dinner. Then she noticed her manager staring at her, openmouthed.
Kate was wearing a very slinky party dress that hugged what little curves she had like a desperate woman hanging off a cliff's edge grasped at a blade of grass, and it was cut so deep Francesca's eyes felt like they were base jumping into the Grand Canyon.
Francesca managed to save the pizza box from hitting the floor, dragging her eyes out of that forbidden trench at the same time. Blushing faintly, she focused past the woman, on the Boschian Pandemonium behind her, where what looked like most of the office was having an exceedingly good time. What the hell?
Kate was the first to recover, and the smile she gave Francesca was... wobbly. "I didn't know you were coming to Friday Beers, Franfran. I'm so happy you're here."
Oh, good. The woman was drunk.
"I'm not." Francesca grunted noncommittally and stepped out of the elevator. Behind her manager, she spotted the reasons for her being there at this stupid hour. Partying hard with the CEO, broing it up, having a ball. Her mouth turned into a flat line. "Just go back to your party, Kate. I've got work to do."
Without another word, Francesca shouldered past the befuddled woman, her posture rigid as she stiffly made her way to her desk, each angry footstep stabbing at the floor. She couldn't get this crap over and done with soon enough.