No one’s answering, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know you’re playing hooky. You open your email again–radio silence from your boss, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be safe come Monday. Do people check the logins after a holiday? Or the security cameras?

You grab as many leftovers as you can, tell your parents a “work emergency” just came up, and run to your car. If you don’t hit traffic, you could be back by 1, maybe 2? At the very least you can salvage a half-day.

Luckily, the roads are mostly-empty. People with reasonable vacation policies are fat and happy at home, not commuting mid-morning to the job that none of their bosses are going to, for a paycheck that hasn’t risen in at least five years, and so little vacation time you’d be pissed about it if you could ever afford to actually go anywhere, jesus, why are you still–

By the time you hear the siren you’re going 90, your rage pounding out through the accelerator. You pull over. Fuck, this is just what you need.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer says as you hand him your license and registration.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to my speed.” If you immediately recognize his dominance, surely he’ll give you a pass. “An emergency came up at my work, so I had to cut the holiday short and head in.”

“Mmhmm.” He walks away. So much for immediately acting like the beta.

When he returns he’s frowning deeply.

“It appears you have several unpaid moving violations on this vehicle.”

You think back. Didn’t you send a check in for that parking thing? Or did you just throw it on the ground?

“I’m not sure what…”

“You’ll receive a court summons for some time in the next two weeks. If you don’t pay off these tickets, including today’s–which I’m upping to reckless driving, considering your history–you may have to forfeit your license.”

“But officer, what if I just–”

“Drive safe,” he says, tossing the new ticket through the window before spitting on the ground and walking back to his car.

You’re so terrified of yet another ticket that you do drive safely…which means you don’t get into the office until almost 3 PM.

You duck at reception, hoping Gina will assume she forgot seeing you earlier…

…but she’s not there.

You wander through the office.

No one’s there.

You open your computer, hoping to send a few alibi emails so the day isn’t a total wash.

There’s just one new email in your box, from your boss. It came in about an hour ago.

Please feel free to take the afternoon as a half day if you’ve finished your work. Thanks for your dedication, and have a lovely holiday weekend!

FUCK. EVERYTHING.

 

THE END.


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