Stede Bonnet was ready for a fresh start, but he wasn’t sure Badminton Consultants was where he would find it. He placed a small box, filled with pens, post-its, an odd little fern, all the things one assumes are required for office work.
Stede was a writer at heart, but his heart, it seemed, had never quite been successful.
He chuckled at the thought.
A unsuccessful heart, that could be his brand.
His divorce had just been finalized, and with the added expense of his house boat, which he insisted was NOT related to any crisis of mid-life, he needed something more lucrative. Badminton Consultants was certainly that, lucrative. Plus his father had been able to get him the position on a favor.
This thought pricked his gut.
Father Bonnet’s favors were never free.
He sat down in front of a fresh desktop, fingers hovering over the keys pensively. Cracking knuckles, and hovering again.
He had no idea what his job ACTUALLY was.
He had attended the four hour training, and watched all the videos. He taken copious amounts of notes,all which read like French to him now, a language he thought he understood, should know, but often failed in his attempts to use it in real time.
There was something to do with data entry..
Stede breathed and tapped his mouse, the cycling inform screen about “Early Enrollment Start Now”, faded into a lovely landscape. Maybe once he was logged in it would come back to him.
The “user:”and “password:” entry boxes glared at him mockingly.
Stede laid his head on the desk and, after a few moments, opened his eyes to see a small card pinned to the otherwise barren walls of his cubicle..