Read Part 1
Nancy leaned back in her black leather office chair that she paid way too much of her own money for, thinking to herself, “a ten pound bag of potatoes huh? Or was it twenty? I never know what Raymond wants from me, from this job, from a game of scrabble, nothing!” She went on and on, seriously, for quite a long time.
Nancy Mullingsmythe was a 29 year old woman with brown hair, blue eyes and a body that have made multiple men jump from moving trains to pursue her. She grew up in Victor, New York. The daughter of a highly successful author of self help books, dvds and other media. His bestseller was called, “I’m not saying I’m God, but I’m pretty much as smart.” Nancy didn’t try in grade school, but it didn’t hurt her academics. She got the highest test scores in the entire state from kindergarten through senior year.
After a few moments she stood up and stretched her long legs from behind the desk. She locked her office door as she exited, telling Lara, the Executive Administrator “I have important directives from Mitchell, and may not be back for the rest of the day.”
Lara responded by saying “I will forward all your calls straight to voice mail: email and video, that you planned to receive today to your mobile.”
“That sounds perfect like always, Lara, probably see you tomorrow.” Nancy loved Lara and she wasn’t sure why, Lara rarely bathed, she answered the phone half of the time by saying “What do you want?” And was out and out rude to most people, but nonetheless, Nancy and Lara got on famously.
Nancy took the electro-glide from the 28th floor of Food Services Building to the main lobby. She crossed the lobby toward the revolving door motioning a ‘hello and a goodbye’ to Regina the chief of information and security for the day shift at Food Services Building. Nancy continued through the door and exited the building finding herself at Canal Street. She would need to go about 48 blocks north west to get to Food Services’ Warehouse. That is where all the food is maintained, packaged and stored. “Plenty of damn potatoes there, whatever the hell Raymond and Mitchell boy want them for.”
At the White House, in North Carolina’s war room, Joe Don Mitchell sat in his oversized chair, behind his oversized desk, talking on his ridiculously oversized phone, that was in the shape of a frying pan, only it was three times larger than a typical frying pan. If there was one thing that Mitchell loved more than politics and power is was cooking. He sat there, looking about as smug as possible, talking on the phone and moving his arms in over dramatic fashion so everyone in the room knew how serious shit was. It wasn’t serious though. Mitchell was talking to Eugene Gunderberry an orthopedic surgeon who was in his fantasy football league. “Eugene, you have to make this happen, you stupid son of a snail, I have to have this deal, it means the whole year, Eugene!” and he slammed the frying pan on the desk as hard as he could breaking it into about thirteen pieces. “Shit!” Mitchell said. Everyone in the room starred at him, while hoping that he won’t notice it. But, of course he notices, that’s the whole reason he did it by the way. He has a closet at his house filled with frying pan telephones.
Mitchell shouted, “Pam! What are you looking at?”
“Nothing sir, just heard a loud noise is all-” Pam muttered as she was interrupted by Mitchell.
“Pam, please come here.” Joe Don said as reassuringly as he could.
Pam was able to squeak out.“Yes, Mr. Mitchell.”
“Pam, I like you. You’re a good worker, honest, loyal, that’s why I am going to forgive you for starring at me so disrespectfully. However, I have a job for you now.”
Pam brightened up, and asked excitedly, “What is it Mr. Mitchell?”
Joe Don hadn’t thought this far ahead, “Um, Pam, how long have been one of my assistants?”
“Well, your mother hired me as your baby sitter when you turned 17, so, I guess since then, which would be uh, 24 years ago, right?” Pam said with pride.
Joe Don laughed with embarrassment and acted like it was a long running joke saying, “My baby sitter at 17, oh Pam, that’s why I love ya!”
