The (Box) Office
Years ago, before the dawn of time and space, in an age of wonder . . .
Scratch that. This story takes place primarily during 2004. The place is the Westchester Broadway Theatre, in Elmsford, New York.
More specifically, in the box office of said theatre.
I worked on and off in that box office, going back and forth to school starting in 2001. After leaving school at the beginning of 04, I ended up spending much of my waking life at the dinner theatre until the world of technical support came calling.
It was there that I first saw my life parallel that of The Office. No, it wasn't horribly corporate, nor did I have a kind, yet annoying boss (she was actually rather cool).
I had a Pam. Or a Dawn, those who've only seen the UK version of the show.
She wasn't a secretary, but another box office rep. We got along rather well to the point that I found myself sweet on her, as the cool kids say.
But I had to keep that to myself.
She had a Roy. Or a Lee.
Rather than crop up from the warehouse, he'd stumble over from the wait staff room generally deaden the mood. Almost daily she'd talk about how awful life was with him, about how he had no ambition, or an overall lack of intelligence, even a disappearing libido.
It's not often women discuss their lack of a sex life with me. Part of me felt honored and another reminded me that I must be non-threatening.
Sadly, life doesn't imitate art in my world. There was no passionate Christmas reunion with her casting her Neanderthal boyfriend off and leaping into my arms. There was no post-Casino Night confession and kiss.
I left the Box Office in October of 2004 to focus on my tech support career and to avoid the hour long drive between IBM in East Fishkill and the theatre. We closed together that night, and rather than open my stupid mouth, I accepted the hug I got and drove off into the sunset in my rented pickup (another story all together).
She was probably the reason I stayed so long, even while working at IBM and driving that far just for a few extra bucks. I see her old phone number in my contact list a few times (as far as I know, it doesn't work anymore) and wonder what she's up to.
I hope she's gotten out of the theatre, and still working with kids, either at day care or in a real school environment. I hope her bar job is also in her past, as she was never sure if that was for her or not. I hope she's well and successful in life. I hope she hasn't forgotten me either, though I'd forgive her if she has.
Most of all, I hope she's cast off that guy, as he seemed to be what made her most miserable.
Well, that's the story. I actually feel a bit better having written it down. Lost, unrequited love is a tough burden to carry around. And no, I'm not seeing pity. Just some closure.
Tags: TheOffice, stupidity, history, love, pain, TheWestchesterBroadwayTheatre