Right is Wrong

I was so late getting up that even the alarm had given up it futile attempt of annoying me to the point of waking up. No time for a shower, I quickly tried to brush my untamed hair out of my eyes and flashed the mirror a weak smile. The least I can do is brush my teeth, I thought to myself.

The coffee had been made for 45 minutes, thanks to the programming setting. I had set it up at 1:30 am last night before I had finally gone to bed. The cars at the top of my apartment complex's drive all wanted to turn left, but I needed to go right. I was forced to wait, every morning, for the majority of cars to make their way into the stand-still group of cars. The wait for the right-turn was always worth it for that first chance to gun it down the road, away from the group, toward freedom.

I was one of the first ones in the parking lot every morning, and had my choice of spots right up front by the Board Room Boys. My beat-up truck was conspicuously out of place alongside the BMW's and Mercedes. No one knew how I did it. I was asked almost every morning by my bewildered coworkers how I managed to do it. "We pass your car at your apartment every morning," they would say. "Then you beat us by ten minutes!" "Fifteen," I would correct them. It was always fifteen. I really didn't see the big deal. So what if I was one of the first ones in every morning? Someone had to be.

It was a seemingly normal morning. I was the first lower-office member in and had already finished my coffee before I moved up to my cubicle, only one floor below the Board Room. Almost up there with the Boys, but not quite. Almost. I was seated and situated at my desk before I realized my phone was still in my car's cup holder. By the time I had retrieved it, and thanks in part to my extended coffee break before even walking in, fifteen minutes had passed since I had first pulled into the parking lot. Fifteen minutes.

My hand nearly slipped off the glass door upon re-entry. The sound of what could only have been a thousand bees swarmed to my ears from around the corner. The gravel driveway exploded alive as dozens upon dozens of middle-class cars propelled down it, right on cue, into RightWay Corp's parking lot. It was mesmerizing and reminded me of the old footage of Hitler's troops marching mindlessly in step, never missing a beat. One after one, the same time in between each, the cars rounded the corner in single file and filled in each successive parking spot. Never breaking rank or routine.

As the middle class employees that I worked with exited their cars in robotic-like fashion, they became surprised at each others' timely arrival. "Right on the dot as usual, Ted," or "My my, you just can't be late can you Dave?". Murmuring continued all around the parking lot until the last body made its way into the glass doors. And then I was late. "Does this happened every day?" I wondered aloud.

I followed in after them, a slight hitch in my step trying to catch up to my cubicle-neighbor, Jim. Jim was cool. Jim had an attractive girlfriend, and hated his job. Jim was easy to talk to and made jokes out of no material whatsoever. Jim was not my friend, but we knew and respected each other.

"Does this happen everyday Jim?" I echoed the question from my thoughts moments earlier.

"What? Going to work? Yes, yes we all go to work every day. I mean...most days," he said with a corny smile that was too staged to let go, but too endearing to care about.

"No I mean....I mean Jim! Did you not just notice that everyone else parked at the exact same time as you? Did you all follow each other here or something?" My voiced jumped for a second trying to get his full attention, as he was preoccupied with the stirrer in his Starbucks. I had also attracted the attention of several others milling around the elevator bank, waiting for their lift-off to another day in the corporate monster.

Jim now knew that I was getting after something, and he was showing signs of nervousness.

"Look man um ... we can't talk about this here, ok?" he said, glancing around suspiciously. I started in, but he cut me off. "No look, Dave. I don't know you that well and you're asking a lot of questions, for it being so early in the morning. Lets grab lunch in a few hours ok? Ok Dave? We'll grab lunch in a few hours."

With that, Jim rushed off to grab an elevator as it's doors closed behind him. Ignoring my protests and requests for a "hold the door!", he let it close, and I swear he was shaking his head as he was jettisoned off.