Here he is! The wounded hero. Back from the dead!
El'-Jefe leered at me as if I was a crispy honey-glazed pork shoulder joint.
Aye aye, whatevs boss man.
I sat down across from him and his enforcer Blex who was frowning hugely like he was itching to paw his cheap shoes on the ground and charge at me like a small pony.
So, four weeks off and back at work. What do you have to say for yourself?
El'-Jefe chuckled and nudged Blex with a meaty elbow. Blex raised a fake ingratiating smile at his boss which made a change from dropping to his knees, pushing the Jefe'ster's massive belly up and noshing down on his penis.
Yes well. I broke a rib. What more can I say? I sent you the doctor's notes. All legit and above board.
I didn't mention that I could literally have told my doctor to write me a sick note because I was menstruating and he probably would have.
Yes yes, we got the Sick Notes, but the thing is, you never said how it happened. You never gave us the juice? What happened? Were you climbing a fence?
El'-Jefe's eyes gleamed with an animal glee like a fox in the night catching the scent of a lycra-clad cyclist's arsecheeks.
Climbing a fucking fence? What the fuck goes on in this man’s head?
Hmm, well. Not much to tell really. I mean, I don't actually have to say how, the point is that it happened. I went to hospital and the Doctor signed me off work. I am quite sure I don't have to say?
I am not ashamed to admit, there was a hint of desperation in my voice. Like that time I was at the fishing supplies shop and they only had half a kilo of maggots left.
We do need to know. There is a check box on the HR system, see?
Blex scraped his laptop aggressively around to face me as if he were steering one of those big doughnut-tyred Uber Eats bikes into a hurricane.
On the screen before me, I did indeed see a checkbox.
I looked up at him.
Um, was this injury as a result of extreme or dangerous sports? That is what you are asking?
I sniffed dismissively and made a poo-poo'ing motion with my hand as if Blex was yet another annoying rodent trying to sniff my fingers.
We need to know... For the checkbox, see...
Blex smiled coldly, no doubt feeling all sharky. El'-Jefe leaned forward pushing his big hanging jowls out the way to lean his chin on his hands.
Go on, Boomy. Just tell us. For the checkbox?
El-Jelly nodded eagerly at me.
Fine, fuck it. I broke my rib by opening a bottle of Prosecco. There, that is all. Not very dangerous. No danger sports required. Are we done?
I gritted my teeth and growled, inwardly daring them to laugh and plotting how I would murder the fuck out of Blex first if they did and take my time deading El-Jefe.
Oh, opening a bottle of Prosecco... Oh, oh my. You poor thing. I guess that would be a no to the Dangerous Sports. Ha! Off you go then. Thank you.
I got up and left. As the door closed I heard laughter explode from the two bastards within.
Mother funters. They will pay. Oh yes, they will pay.
