“For seventeen years, Miss Fincher worked in the same cubbyhole for the same employer. Each day she arrived on time and began work immediately. She usually ate at her desk, unless the weather was particularly moderate, then she’d take her sandwich or fruit outside to a bench in a small park across from the office building. She returned promptly on the hour and worked until five.
She rarely exchanged more than a brief nod or a perhaps a hello with her coworkers. No one really knew what she did. In fact, she entered information into spreadsheets all day. She wasn’t sure how the spreadsheets were used, but she didn’t care. She took her week’s vacation for the first few years, then two weeks, and had never missed a day of work due to sickness.
As the company adopted new trends–first everyone had offices, then cubicles, then wide open spaces where they worked around the same table–Miss Fincher’s cubbyhole remained untouched. She left her desk clear each night. She’d never put any personal items, including photos, on it. If anyone had bothered to open the desk drawers, they’d have found nothing but office supplies such as any one of them might have.
No one did go through her desk or even take much notice of her. So no one but Miss Fincher was surprised the day she came in to find a small Wonder Woman action figure standing next to the computer monitor on her desk.”
I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.