Being a gofer was turning out to be a decent job, as far as jobs went.
Not having a car hurt his turnaround times for running errands but his boss and the associates he did tasks for didn't seem to mind the small additional delay that came from him achieving things on foot or taking public transportation to deliver or receive the parcels or documents he was tasked with. Lunches were probably the easiest assignments, especially the ones where they ordered it all in advance and just needed a pickup. No need for him to write down a list of things or parrot them back to the cafe owner.
Just in, out, then back at work with the plastic bags or brown paper packages in hand.
Coffee runs were somewhat simple in the same vein, especially since the local coffee shop was just down the street from the large AI building. A quick stroll was all it took - hell, it took longer to repeat the fancy-smancy order than it did to actually get to the place.
Skim milk. Mocha drizzle. No foam. Coconut milk. Shots of espresso, hold the cinnamon.
Coffee was just coffee as far as Reid was concerned, so having a list of extra details for the fancy, hard to pronounce names of the drinks his coworkers wanted was... well. It wasn't exactly irritating but it was a bit much, in his opinion. But a job was a job, so he went without complaint and struggled through the order, reciting from his chicken scratch grocery list of coworker requests to the barista, who seemed to at least know what the hell he was talking about when he asked for a frappawhata or a cappachinko.
Carrying it was also an art, he'd soon come to realize after his first few initial trips to the coffee shop. Cardboard holders were a must but after an unfortunate spill of scalding liquid onto his bare hand, he soon realized the little green sticks that stopped up the hole in the lid were also a must when it came to traveling with hot drinks. He never ordered anything for himself, even though Miss Argent was kind enough to extend the offer when giving him the company credit card to use for the purchases. As far as he was concerned, she was far more generous than she needed to be; frankly, he'd never had a more pleasant boss to work under. A good pay, a generally cheerful demeanor... and, y'know, the gift of power that came with inducting him into the secret society or army or whatever it is she called them, as her alter ego.
All in all, it wasn't a bad gig. Bills got paid, food was put on the table. Reid wasn't about to complain.
This particular morning involved eight drinks instead of the normal six, making an even balance as he held both cardboard containers, hip pushing open the door to the large work area filled with cubicles and offices. AI's building was huge but blessedly had working elevators with easy to push buttons. Doors with push-handles instead of knobs made his life easier as blue eyes skimmed over his scribbled list, looking for each individual who'd ordered their drink. Most were higher ranked individuals, meaning he had to deliver them to their personal, private offices -- Reid couldn't help but daydream that one day, he too might get an office of his own. Having a cubicle was more than he'd expected for a man with a job title of gofer and the desk itself was arguably the plainest out of the whole lot, lacking personal items or touches like the ones surrounding him had.
Still, to have an office of his own... that meant he was official. That meant he was as fancy as the coffee he was delivering.
One by one, the drinks were dropped off to their respective owners. By the time he made it back around towards his own cubicle, he had two left on his holder, the other tossed in a nearby recycling container. He'd been on a beeline towards the light foam, caramel mocha whatsit's owner when a swaying array of rainbow colors caught the corner of his eye.
Was that...in his cubicle?
Eyebrows furrowed as his lips remained in a firm, undeterred line. Legs carried him in the direction of his personal space, wondering who in the world would invade his --- wait, no. It wasn't coming from his cubicle but his neighbor's. That green haired girl, Barnett. The one who drank gasoline and called it energy, the one who seemed glued to her phone and talked more casually, like she wasn't aware that the world was full of cruel, despicable people that were out to take advantage of them all.
Blue eyes peeked into her space as he tried to stroll by and failed, instead pausing at the entrance of her otherwise empty area. She'd must have left her desk at the moment but the colors that covered her desk were bright and cheerful, annoyingly cheerful. It was a huge bouquet of balloons, tied together and attached to a rather large basket full of what appeared to be snacks, drinks and various odds and ends. Reid didn't linger around to stare and find out what exactly was in the basket -- the large, bolded print HAPPY BIRTHDAY on half of the balloons told him all he needed to know as to why she suddenly had a clown-worthy display on her cluttered desk.
Huh. Birthday.
Birthdays weren't really a big deal in Reid's world. It was the anniversary of the day a person came into the world and that was it. Granted, his mother had always tried hard to make sure that he at least had a cake or treat on his day in April and he'd worked hard to make sure she at least received the same, if not a card, for hers.
Hosting extravagant parties seemed excessive but he didn't pretend to understand why people wasted money on things like that. It wasn't practical. What were balloons, if not temporary balls of color, destined to deflate and be more garbage in need of taking out?
Still...clearly birthdays were a big deal to his coworkers, so Reid knew he needed to respect that. Maybe not agree with it, but at least respect it.
His mother's chiding to be friendly with your new coworkers! echoed in the back of the solemn boy's mind as he continued on his trek to the last two offices. Coffee was delivered, the container was tossed and he started mulling over what to do in this particular situation.
When he returned back to his cubicle, he dug his hand into his pocket, fishing around for any sort of paper. There was an extra copy of a receipt from an earlier errand in there and he unwrinkled the white, creased paper as he turned to make his way into Barnett's empty cubicle. The sheet of paper was smoothed out as best he could on the desk and eyes glanced up to look for a nearby pen. Snatching the closest one, he scribbled out a message, wrinkled his nose, then looked over it to make sure it was at least legible.
Satisfied, he dropped the pen back onto her desk and abandoned the note for her to find when she returned back from wherever she'd wandered off to, if she'd bothered even coming in at all. Knowing her tendencies (or assuming them, anyways), there was no telling where she'd wandered off to. Grabbing a drink from the break room, raiding the fridge, goofing off near the printer or idling in someone else's cubicle. Barnett was a peculiar one but he supposed there could always be worse neighbors to have, as far as nearby cubicle members went.
Shuffling back to his own little space, Reid soon found himself distracted by a memo that'd been left on his own desk. He considered himself an ideal neighbor. He was quiet, he kept to himself and as a rule of thumb, he didn't bring any lunch or snack that involved much paper or plastic crinkling. Noisy eating was a peeve of his, so he'd never inflict such a horrid thing on someone else.
Eyes scanned over the request, which seemed to be yet another errand he was being requested to run -- ah well, work was never truly done, it seemed.
At least that was job security for him, right?
Wrinkling his nose, he folded the piece of paper and leaned over to place it in the designated basket he'd set aside for the various requests made of him. A notebook was retrieved from the top desk, which sat sadly empty (save for the handful of pens and pencils he'd obtained from the supply closet). The plain notebook was opened up and he jotted down the time and the errand he'd just completed. How he spent his time was never asked for but he made a habit of accounting for it all the same - just in case. He really wanted to keep this job and he wasn't about to do anything to risk losing it.
After all - not many places were willing to hire someone like him, much less pay him in the two figure range.
Eyes glanced over to the wall separating his from his neighbor's cubicle as he tucked the notebook back into place and closed the drawer. He probably wouldn't be back in time to see her reaction to the carnival of colors at her desk but he could already imagine her noisily tearing open the cellophane or ripping open boxes of some of the snacks.
Hmph.
Shaking his head, the young man straightened up and made his way back out of his cubicle, soon off to fetch the next parcel on his to-do list.
