The Receptionist

The receptionist hated her job with every atom in her body.  She hated the dreariness of the days, the sadness of the people who used the service and the total disinterest of the people who were supposed to be providing it.  It was a joke that the organization she worked for supposedly provided therapeutic services in the community.  If anyone needed therapy around here, it was her.

She was tied to the horrid job though, and probably for all eternity.  The rent needed to be paid and the credit card bills wouldn’t go away and she really needed those holidays to warm her bones.  If only she had chosen anther direction when she was at school, not hung out around the bike sheds smoking with the boys and stuck her nose in a book instead.

What else could she do she wondered for the fifty-millionth time.  She had made many of those life decision lists that were recommended on the internet, she liked baking cakes, but everyone could bake cakes, she liked to dance (poorly), she liked to cook, she liked animals, what was clear was that she liked nothing that would ever make her any money.  There must surely be something she hadn’t thought of, she just needed to find it.

Travelling to work this morning on the train, with the same blank faces she saw every day she again realised she was dying.  Not dying from a terminal illness or anything, just dying a little bit more everyday in her boring job.  The same old monotony, day in, day out, the rest of her life.  What did her life, as she was leading it have to say for itself, what did it say about her.

She checked her purse to make sure she had the lottery ticket, it was the only way out of here at the moment, that is until her prince comes along if he ever realises she is waiting.

She prayed again to St Jude, saint of hopeless causes to take pity on her.  Then, to be extra sure to St Anthony, the finder of things, to find her a way out of here, hopefully to somewhere warm and St Christopher who might help with that too.

Who else was there up there that could possibly help?  She thought of Arch Angel Michael, he had influence she had heard, she would give him a try, but how, she would need to look that one up.  She opened a browser and typed in his name finding a list of sites dedicated to him immediately.  It appeared all you needed to do was ask him to be by your side, help with negativity and believe he was there.  You could also ask him for a physical sign on earth, so you would know he was there. It was surely worth a go, she would give it a try, what did she have to loose.

The receptionist closed her eyes and followed the instructions carefully.  ‘Dear Arch Angel Michael, could you help me see my way, be with me, protect me and show me a sign that you can hear this’.  Just as she was getting in the flow of the conversation with Michael the door buzzer went off.  She pressed the intercom to enquire who was there.  ‘ Stationary delivery’, she pressed the button to release the door and let the delivery guy in to the building.

A young guy, actually a very nice looking young guy entered the reception area carrying a delivery note.  He was wearing a colbolt blue T-shirt with a company logo of what looked like a sword across the chest.  She directed him to the stationary office and went back to her desk.

A pile of letters needed to be put into envelopes and posted, she had better get on with it before lunch.  She could then head off early to the post office before going to the café in the park.  She looked up as the stationary delivery guy left the building with a wave in her direction.

At the park, she got her sandwich from the café and headed for a bench by the lake.  The sun was shining and it cast a bright glow across the water that seemed to stop just short of the bench.  As she sat, she noticed a single feather, white and fluffy and new.  She picked it up, held it aloft and then gently let it fall to the ground, watching as it span in the summer breeze.

‘Mind if I sit here’? enquired a voice, a nice, soft and gentle voice.  She looked up to see the delivery guy, sandwich in hand standing by her bench.  She smiled and moved along to make room.  She wasn’t so sure she was hungry for the egg mayonnaise sandwich now, maybe it would be best to save it for later where she didn’t have to worry about it falling down her chin.

Heading back to work after lunch, she thought about Mike.  New to town, single and drop dead gorgeous.  He was working at the stationary company as a stopgap to save for the trip around the world he intended to do with his camera.  He was an aspiring photographer and had recently been displayed in a local gallery.   He would be back on Monday with the remainder of the delivery, she must remember to wear her new shoes, and Monday couldn’t come soon enough, maybe this place wasn’t so bad.  She picked the delivery note up from the in tray she had left it earlier, ready now to unpack the boxes.  The piece of paper in her hand read Michaels’ Stationary Supplies and just below showed the delivery of a box of Arch Lever Files.

What was the name of that angel she had been talking to earlier?

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