Free Odd One Out by Monica McInerney Page B

insolent.”
    “Work through to lunchtime, would you? I’ll send another temp in this afternoon.”
    “You’re taking me off the job?”
    “She’s asked us to. Demanded it.”
    “That’s fine,” Sylvie said calmly, outwardly professional, inwardly swearing. “I’ll keep working in the meantime.”
    She got through almost a box of files by eleven thirty, before she realized she needed a coffee and a bathroom. The woman hadn’t shown her where either was. Sylvie made her way down the corridor, peering into the offices. There was little chat, just heads down working. She found the woman at the end of the building, standing by the coffee machine.
    “You’re still here?” Not a hello, not a “Can I help you?”
    “Just until lunchtime,” Sylvie said, trying to keep her voice and expression pleasant. “I needed a coffee. Can I please help myself?”
    The woman stepped to one side, still blocking the cups. “Five-minute break, maximum.”
    Sylvie made a coffee, pressing the buttons, watching the dart of instant coffee arrive in the cup. She thought of all the temp jobs she’d had, all the other temps she’d met, the different experiences of the job that she’d heard about. She remembered how well treated and respected she was by the Executive Stress Relief clients. As the other woman threw her empty cup into the bin and turned to leave, Sylvie seized her moment.
    “Excuse me?”
    The woman stopped.
    “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I think you might be the one with the attitude problem here.”
    “What?”
    “Temps are human beings too. Not robots. I wasn’t being insolent, I was asking to be treated with some respect and—”
    “That’s enough. Your five-minute break is up. I hope you don’t mind me saying.” The last was delivered in a sarcastic tone.
    Sylvie was barely back in her cubicle when she got another phone call from the agency.
    “She’s asked for you to be removed now. We’ve got your replacement coming in urgently. We’ll have to take you off our books, Sylvie. We can’t have a loose cannon working for us.”
    A loose cannon? Her? It felt like the biggest compliment she’d ever been paid. “I understand completely,” she said.
    Her bravado had faded by the time she walked home. Her shoes were pinching. Her shirt was sticking to her back. It was an unseasonably warm day. It didn’t bode well for her future here in Melbourne if she was sacked from her first job.
    The phone in the hallway was ringing as she let herself in. “Sebastian’s house.”
    “Sylvie, I didn’t expect to get you. I have another tip for you. Do you have paper and a pen?”
    “Of course, Mill.” She reached into her bag for a notebook. “Ready when you are.”
    “You sound quite flat. Not yourself at all. What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
    “It has, yes.” Sylvie was surprised to hear herself say it. “Just something silly.”
    “It’s the silly things that are often the most upsetting, in my experience. Tell me. I’ve been on my own in the house all day. I could do with a story.”
    Sylvie told Mill everything that had happened in the insurance office. “I keep wishing I’d said something else to her. Told the agency what she was like. I shouldn’t have let her get away with it.”
    “No, you shouldn’t have,” Mill said. “You should have set fire to all her files before you left.”
    Sylvie laughed. “Exactly. And then wiped out the computer program.”
    “Yes. Then dialed the speaking clock in China on the office phone. Put a prawn inside her curtain rod. Let down her tires. Offered her some laxative chocolates. Sprinkled itching powder in her hair.”
    “They’re not more of your handy household hints, are they?”
    Mill laughed enthusiastically. “No, but wouldn’t it be fun to try them one day? I’m glad you’re out of there, Sylvie. That woman sounds like a horrible stinking old bitch.”
    “Mill!”
    “Well, she does. I can’t abide bullying behavior.