Driving Doctor Mayhem

[3] Actual Work

"Out so soon, hon?" my mother asked as I rushed around, frantically stuffing things into my bag the following Monday morning. She looked a little startled, and justifiably so, since I was normally comatose that time of the day.

"Yeah, I stumbled into employment, surprisingly enough," I murmured without pausing for a second. After eighteen years of nothing, I was not going to be late to my first day of actual work, and the fact that the nearest coffee joint was a good ten miles in the opposite direction of Doc's office was not working in my favor.

"You found a job?"

In fact, I should've left a few minutes ago. Where the hell is my phone? I thought the big screen would make it harder to lose.

"Uh-huh," I said under my breath, slipping on a hand-me-down blazer-type-thing that didn't fit my cousin anymore. It smelled faintly of mothballs and had a wad of gum in the pocket. "Hey, is this business casual?" I asked, turning back to my bewildered audience of one.

"Probably-- I mean, maybe."

I shrugged and shoved a few more things into my bag. Tissues, hand sanitizer, stress ball, wallet, pencils--oh, there's my phone. Unable to shake the feeling that I'd forgotten something, I grabbed my keys and scurried out the door, shouting rushed goodbyes over my shoulder. I had my key in the ignition by the time my mother rushed outside, waving her arms.

"Wait! Banksy!"

"What, Ma?"

"Shoes?"

I looked down slowly. "Dammit."