Botched
Botch past tense: botched; past participle: botched carry out (a task) badly or carelessly.
“He was accused of botching the job”
All right I’m pretty sure I’m fucked. This is probably the worst day of my life. I’m currently locked in a cell with a bunch of thugs and I’m not sure I want to get out. You are probably asking what could be so bad with my life that I’d rather spend time locked in this shithole than be free. Well, to put it short everyone I know probably hates me. Why? Because I fucked up. Again.
Everyone makes mistakes and I make them more than anyone I know. At the age of twenty-one, I was fired from my first job as a website developer for a small private firm. The official record of the incident stated that I suggested that a group of clients should go have sex with themselves. That… was true. In my defense, they were a bunch of assholes who kept asking for adjustments yet insisted that the deadline is firm. Unsurprisingly I managed to find another job because I’m a freaking genius. I know I should not be modest but I can’t help it. My parents did a good job raising me. Three years later, I was unceremoniously escorted out of the building because during a staff meeting the CEO stood up and said, “This problem has to be solved, we have to be willing to do what has never been done before…we have to go deeper.” A perfect motivational moment. As the youngest and lowest ranking member of the team, I promptly looked at her and said, “That’s what she said.” Totally worth it.
In the following years, I seemed to have learned my lesson. I have a job and I fucking hate it. Nevertheless, I kept it for the past four years. I have not verbally abused anyone or made any wise remarks. At least not, out loud. Financially I’m barely keeping up with my rent. My douchebag landlord refused my request for an extension seven times. I don’t have coffee at home. I have to make do with the piss they serve at work.
Love life. As empty as my wallet. By my count, I have had forty-six failed attempts at starting a relationship with a woman in the past two years. Most of these attempts died stillborn. Either I didn’t muster the courage to walk up to a woman in time or I was rejected after I did. Forty-six attempts netted me many dates though. An impressive grand total of five dates. Needless to say, they all sucked. For the past year or so, I have had a huge crush on Katie. Lovely Katie. She works in the office next to mine. You would think that would offer many opportunities for me to talk to her. Nope. All I could muster is a meek hello, good morning, and a bunch of gibberish that only dogs could understand. She is nice though. On her birthday, she brought a piece of her birthday cake and brought it to me personally. There is no way someone like her likes someone like me.
The only good thing in my life was my best friend Joey. Joey is currently in the process of returning to his gold digger ex-girlfriend who latched on to his life as a parasite for 2 years and left him for another guy. How stupid can someone be? Every time I try to talk to him about it, we end up fighting. Apparently, I’m not very sensitive. Fucking moron.
So maybe now you think you understand why I prefer this cell right. Right? Wrong. You don’t know half of it. You see a while ago my friend Joey insisted I visit a Life coach. Let me quickly explain what a life coach is. She is like a psychiatrist only for people who aren’t actually sick just fucked up. Like me. People who have dreams but are unable to achieve them. People that are unable to realize their potential and be happy because of some screwed-up belief or fear inside them. Bunch of idiots if you ask me.
Anyway, Joey insisted and booked a session for me as a birthday gift. Why am I friends with this guy? Instead of a plane ticket to a tropical destination, he gets me a few hours one on one with a total stranger. Awesome. My dad taught me never to waste anything so despite my disinterest I went to this coach. Let me tell you. This stuff…doesn’t work. I’m not going to bore you with the details of all the sessions. I usually end up doing most of the talking. She sits there looking stupid and asks insightful questions like why did this happen in your opinion? What do you think this means? What does your rage imply? How the fuck should, I know. I’m sure glad I didn’t pay for this shit. I would have strangled her a long time ago.
Last week she came up with a “useful awareness exercise.” She said I should write letters to everyone in my life. Naturally, I proceeded to inform her of how much of an idiot she is. One thing I admire about this coach is her tenacity. She doesn’t seem affected at all by my charm. Note to self, I need to come up with better insults once I’m out of this mess. Maybe I’ll take a dump on her car or something. Anyway, she said I don’t have to send them to anyone. I need to write them and later on, we will analyze them together. I left her office completely determined to ignore her request.
However, that day I saw Katie. She was in a café. Alone. She looked so beautiful. She wore her glasses and was busy reading a copy of David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas. God, I love her. I thought about joining her. I thought about walking to her and saying hello. I thought about all the things that I wish I could say to her. I thought about what life would be like with her in my life. I thought as I walked away.
That day I felt like a coward. A fucking worthless coward. Alone in my shitty apartment, I sat in darkness. You know what maybe I’ll write those damn letters. If there is a one percent chance it will help I guess I’ll take it. I sat down at my laptop and I wrote.
I wrote a letter to my family telling them how pissed I’m that they can’t seem to call just to check up on me. Every fucking time it’s why aren’t you doing this? Why aren’t you doing that? A constant stream of criticism. I know they love me. I just wish they had another way of showing it.
I wrote a letter to my best friend Joey informing him of how big of an idiot he is. I told him that he is on a path to ruin his life again and that he should watch out. I also told him that he is an asshole for sending me to that coach.
I wrote a letter to the CEO of my company. I told him that I do fifty percent of all my team’s work. I told him my manager is an asshole who promotes his favorites and shits on the rest of us. I told him about every mistake I see in my department and every other department. I finished this letter by saying “P.S. to all the department heads, your mothers are prostitutes. Best Regards, Marcus Simmons.”
Finally, I wrote a letter to Katie. I…I told her how lovely I think she is. I told her how hauntingly beautiful she looked in that café. I told her how much I wanted to talk to her. You might be surprised but I’m not a very romantic or eloquent person. Shocking right? Anyway, it was a long letter. I was exhausted after I finished and I went to bed. I have to admit writing those letters made me feel better. Not going to tell that to the coach obviously.
The next day I woke up feeling like shit. As usual. Started my daily routine, went to work, and drank some piss. Just another shitty morning. Today was Friday however. The weekend is here. That means it is time to get drunk. You can see where this is going, can’t you? Of course, you can. Long story short I got really drunk. Instead of picking up the phone and calling a random person and telling them how much I love them…as usual, I went to my laptop.
Holy shit. Remember those letters I wrote? I sent them all as emails. Impressively in my drunken haze, I somehow managed to copy everyone involved in the correct emails.
I woke up at 5 AM like a man who had just got electrocuted. WHAT HAVE I DONE? I’m really fucked this time. I was shitting my pants. I raked my brain for an answer. I should pack up and move to India. NO that’s fucking dumb I hate Indian food. I should say my computer was stolen. These emails were personal you idiot. Hungover and terrified I quickly came up with an idea. I’ll have to go to the office, hack the computers and delete the emails. As for my family and Joey, there is nothing I can really do. Sad but I’ll work it out with them later.
I quickly got dressed. Not an easy thing to do when you are hung over. I rushed to work only to remember that I’m not actually allowed to enter on weekends. Thankfully, security was busy eating and watching T.V. I snuck past them (crawled like a worm) and stealthily entered the office (used my ID card like an idiot) then I hurried over to Katie’s computer. It took longer than I thought to break her password. It was Katie1990. I accessed her email. Drum-roll. The email was marked as read. It dawned on me that most people have their email set up on their phones.
I sat in stunned silence. I don’t know how much time had passed before the security guards showed up. They escorted me to the entrance where the cops waited for me. This is why I’m here in this shithole. The huge tattooed man sharing the cell with me glared at me and said, “I didn’t ask.” I leaned back against the cell wall and asked him, “What are you in here for?” he looked at me menacingly and said, “I beat up a guy who wouldn’t shut up.” I nodded and said; “good for you, these guys need to know when to shut up.” he gave me an incredulous look then got up and went to the other side of the cell.
My family probably hates me. Joey. Poor Joey what did he ever do to deserve me as a friend. I’m definitely fired and Katie… she is probably laughing her ass off somewhere. Once again, I botched my life. A cop approached the cell and looked at me “Are you Marcus Simmons?” he asked. Yeah, that’s me. He unlocked the cell and escorted me out. “All charges have been dropped, sign here,” He said. I quickly signed a huge amount of documents. I might have bought a house. Apparently, they received a call from my workplace informing them that this was all a misunderstanding.
As I walked out of the police station, I checked my phone. Four voice messages. The first was from my dad “You can’t just pick up the phone and tell me what you want to tell me? I am…sorry. I may be overly critical but I love you and I want you to be happy. Don’t do anything stupid call me when you get a chance. We love you Marcus never forget that.” Thanks, dad.
The second was from Joey. My heart dropped. “Hey man, I know how you feel about her. You are probably right. Maybe I should take a break from her and see how I really feel. Thanks for always having my back. As a side note, fuck you. Stop being an asshole.” I smiled. So maybe not everyone I know hates me after all.
The third was from my CEO. Shit. Unemployment here I come. “Mr. Marcus thank you for bringing these issues to my attention. I will not tolerate favoritism or lack of professionalism from anyone. I’ll start an investigation into your issues immediately. However, your tone and language are unacceptable. Expect a harsh penalty. See you on Monday.” I’m not fired? Holy shit I’m not fired. This is unbelievable.
An idea popped into my head and my heart started racing. I got chills down my spine and my hands started shaking as I started the fourth voice message. It was my CEO again. “I have instructed security to call the police and drop all charges. Expect another penalty.” My heart fell. She didn’t call. She didn’t care. Well, things could have been much worse. I don’t know if I can face her on Monday. My smile faded as the excitement of survival faded away.
I walked alone and once again, I came in view of the café. I looked up and froze. I swear my heart probably stopped for a minute. She was sitting there again. Only this time she wasn’t reading a book. She was looking directly at me. After a second, she smiled and pointed at the chair in front of her. I was frozen in place. I thought about what I should tell her. Should I apologize? Should I confess I was drunk and this was a mistake? I thought for a moment then I stopped thinking and walked up to her.
As I entered the café and walked up to her table, she kept her sweet smile. Her first words to me. “You’re an idiot…you made me wait for an entire year.” I collapsed into the chair with a foolish smile on my face. This has been the best day of my entire life.
Don’t tell my coach I said that.