Picture Credit: MorgueFile (http://mrg.bz/LsH3I1)
Dave’s phone pinged. It was Mark, his mate, texting to let him know that they were heading to the local.
Their Friday evenings ritual. Its been over two decades since they started it, and they never let anything spoil their Friday nights. In the last few months though, Dave has been finding it tough to join Mark. Work has been crazy. What with migrations every week, and offshore to handle, a totally new environment for him. He longed for those days of yore when he just did things at his pace. His lovely nine to five job, and early breaks on Friday. Bliss!
‘On my way’, texted Dave back. He deserved a break! ‘One Friday evening out of office wouldn’t hurt’, he thought, starting to shut down the multiple windows open on his laptop.
The phone’s ring jarred into his thoughts. He peered at the caller id. It was his boss, Anil. Could he ignore it? And pretend that he is already out? No, this is Anil, he would personally come and track him down at that pub! He had no option but to pick it the phone
‘Dave, there is some issue that has cropped up. Could you call the offshore team and sort it all out before end of day? We need everything sorted so that the offshore can continue work tomorrow. Everything needs to be fixed before the client comes in on Monday. I’ve just got off the phone from Andrea, and she is livid that last minute issues are still cropping up!’
‘Can’t make it, mate’, texted Dave once more to Mike. Whatever was he thinking when he quit his easy job and joined this consultancy! Money, of course, but was it worth it, if a bloke couldn’t go out on a Friday with his mates?
This was written as this week’s prompt at Write Tribe.