The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

“Look alive, I need you to finish calling that client list today.”
“Yes, sir, I’m just about to finish it.”
Margaret glanced at her phone and the list of endless numbers on her desktop screen.
She sighed before finding where she left off and started dialing.
She had taken this job late last summer once Noah was finally old enough to start
school. She enjoyed having a regular schedule: it made her feel more like an adult and
less like a fuckup with a fatherless child, no nearby family and no money. She knew she
was being self-deprecating, but she still couldn’t help but feel that her life was nowhere
near what she thought it would be.
Margaret floated through her calls. She was a natural on the phone and although
most of the clients didn’t have all of the information Mark was asking for, they had
agreed to email over the paperwork when they found it.
Towards the end of the list, she had entered a groove of conversation with the men
she imagined being name Steven or Anthony.
“Hi, my name is Margaret. I’m calling from Torbit and I was wondering if I could
take a few minutes to ask you for some information regarding your permits.
Oh it’s fine to put me on hold to look up the data.
Yes, my company is looking for your permit numbers for the 2010 to 2011 business
year.
If you don’t have it on you that is no problem just be sure to call back or email me at
M-F-E-L-L-E-R-S at Torbit dot com with whatever paperwork you have.
Thank you. Hope to hear from you soon, buh-bye.”
Margaret wasn’t particularly sure what Mark was doing with the information she was
collecting, and a part of her believed that he didn’t know either. Mark often strutted
around like a hall monitor, making sure that all of the tired girls were completing the
odds and ends of his tasks. She was frequently compelled with the urge to climb onto
her desk and throw her stapler at his head, but she needed this job and the stability
that came from the nine to five. She hoped she could get a raise in the coming months
so that she could stop her side job at night. She wanted to spend more free time with
Noah especially now that he was “acting out.”
“So Fellers, I see you aren’t on the phone. Did you finish the list?”
“Yes, I got about seventy-five percent of the data, and the rest should be in by the
end of the week.”
“You aren’t too bad on the phone, anyone ever tell you that?”
“Mostly just my mother sir, but she died last year.” Margaret looked Mark straight in
his beady rat eyes, daring him to say something other than, “Sorry to hear that, good
job today.”
He eased off of the side of her cubicle and straightened his tie while muttering
something like, sorry to hear that, and shuffled out of her area.
Judging by how that interaction went, Margaret decided she could probably leave
91