Nance Mustly sat contentedly in front of the pale glow of her flatscreen monitor. Her lips curled up with tremendous excitement: an email. Queen of the morning listserv, she ruled with an iron fist.

The 14th of June in the Year of Our Dearest Lord, 2007:

Please note that all employees as of June 16th must receive notification of the changes in University exit leave cash out policy: all unused leave must roll into a retirement account, which may not be accessed by employees a) under the age of 55 or b) employees with careers spanning less than ten years.

Sprigs of adrenaline pulsed in the back of her thighs and she tore through her inbox with beady blinking eyes. My office, my rules. She mouthed the words while chewing a solitary slice of spearmint Trident. The late morning sunlight sparkled off the massive Culligan water cooler behind her chair. She swiveled round to sneak a peak, allowing her eyes to pass over the coffee pot — checking for errant drops, monitoring the level. Ms. Mustly ran a tight ship. Her keen eye allowed no access: a troll under the bridge waiting to pounce on freeloaders — employees without the discipline to pay their beverage dues.

Anson Ritchells staggered out of the adjacent conference room. He sucked the cheap coffee scent into his sinuses with a harumphant scoffing cluck. Pointing to an errant can on Nance’s desk he asked, “We charging for air now?” He flicked a nickel into the can sounding a metal on metal ping that vibrated her sterling silver earrings at their tips. She stared back at him with resolve — her jowls strained into a jolly, taught smile around yellowing teeth. He slammed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the cooler, bracing for fake smile duel; he focused solely on his own reflection in her large lenses.”Oh, you’re such a character,” quipped Nance after seven seconds of silence. Anson grabbed a paper water cone from the dispenser and sneered at the neatly taped bolder than life disclaimer:

FOR WATER PLAN PAYING EMPLOYEES ONLY. Please use only the authorized cups below.

He placed the cup under the spout and pressed the shiny plastic blue button. Cool water rushed forth, filling the cup instantly. He drank it down in one gulp and exhaled aloud. “Ahh, refreshing.” Crumpling the cup, he tossed it in the garbage can beside her desk and strolled down the hallway. Nance’s glowing white forehead pulsed under the taught discretion of her scrunchie, but her countenance remained poised After all, the Director, her closest confidant, sat in the very next office. She clutched her St. Peter necklace medallion and rubbed it between her moist reddish fingers. With her free hand, she clasped the trackball mouse. With reverent fervor, she pressed the “check for mail” button in her browser. The rhythmic motions brought eventual peace to her heaving chest. Minutes later, she received an email marked “Urgent.”

Good Afternoon Nance,
I hope you are having a pleasant Tuesday. I’m writing you to inquire about my benefits cash out. Do you recall our exit discussion? You told me not to worry — a check would be on the way. However, I have yet to receive a check or correspondence related to such.
I would be forever grateful if you could check into this matter for me as my family’s immediate future depends upon it.
Thanks as always,
Samuel Shelton

Nance typed a quick, efficient reply:

Yes. Your check has been ready for some time. I’ll place it in the mail today!

She grabbed a check from a large stack on her desk and placed it in an envelope. She licked it with her meaty tongue and applied a Post-It note.

Please see the Shamcor website for further details regarding your payment. My best to your family. :)

She spun around in her swivel chair and chuckled silently. She thought of Sam’s face staring at the signed, notarized check for zero dollars and zero cents.”Nobody fucks with Nance,” she muttered. With a quick sign of the cross, she loped determinedly to her pre-lunch task force meeting.