ROGER'S CASUAL FRIDAY

It’s Casual Friday and Roger isn’t wearing any pants. He isn’t even wearing underwear. He showed up two hours early just so he could spring it on his co-workers as they meet him in the break room. He sits in his cubical and waits.
     
"They want casual, then by God, I’ll give ‘em casual," he keeps repeating to himself.
     
By nine AM, Barry, the stooge in the cube across from his, pokes his head up and over Roger’s cube.

"Whoa! What’s with that?" the stooge asks.

"Casual Friday, Barry," Roger replies while non-chalantly typing.

There is an uncomfortable silence between them that is only broken by the occasional click-clack of computer keyboards throughout the office. The silence lasts for 45 seconds. Roger counts it under his breath. Barry keeps staring back and forth between Roger’s naked crotch and his stapler.

"What?" Roger eventually asks.

"Nothing!"

Roger counts ten more seconds.

"It’s just," Barry continues, "you’re not wearing any pants."

"And?"

"Well, why are you still wearing a button-down and a tie?"

"Why are you?" Roger shoots back.

"I don’t like Casual Fridays. I don’t believe in them," replies the stooge.

"Well, I do! Wit every fiber of my being, I do!" zings Roger, continuing to type.

The stooge ducks back down behind his cube after another ten seconds of Roger counting, this time aloud. The stooge immediately runs down to the secretary’s desk, tells her about Roger’s crotch and then busts ass back to his cube. His head pops up again.

"I think you’d better find some pants, Rog! Soon!"

"Oh, I get it," Roger yells, "This fucking corporation thinks it’s being all cool and ‘with it’ when it declares Fridays casual, but when somebody steps up and actually does it for real, it’s ‘Call Security!’"

"I’m not calling security, Rog. Settle down. This is your Casual Friday, man. You celebrate it however you want."

"Fine! I am and will from now on!"

Roger gets to the count of 27 by the time he hears the all-too-familiar swish. His boss, Clem (yes, his name is actually Clem). The guy wears the same gray, 80’s, double-breasted every single day and the swish is one of those signals every person in the office hears and knows when it’s time to click off the porn on their computers.

Clem walks at a brisk pace, straight into Roger’s cube. He stops dead as he enters, eyes straight to Roger’s free-hanging balls and then to his stapler.

"Whoa," Clem exclaims. "Okay, they warned me, but I honestly didn’t think I’d be looking at it. Roger."

"Clem," Roger answers.

"Nice stapler. Look, Barry, do you think you can give us a minute?"

"Sure thing," the stooge replies as he pops back into his cube.

"So," Clem says, trying to keep his cool, "what’s going on here, Roger?"

"It’s Casual Friday."

"I see." All the while Clem cannot take his eyes off Roger’s stapler. "Listen, Roger, I appreciate your comfortability with us, but I don’t know if this is the proper way to show it."

"No! You listen, Clem! I’ve been here nearly seven years. Seven fucking years and not once have I ever, ever participated in this Casual Friday fiasco. The office mixers, the Christmas parties, Secret Santas, weekend bar-b-ques, Halloween costume parties, I’ve done none of that shit for the entire seven years I’ve worked for you. I’m not invited to these things and I don’t even have inner-office email. So, now I’m finally participating and I get the high hard one? Well, you know what? I think I’m due. So, pardon me, but fuck off, Clem! This is my time to shine and if you think I’m going to let you or any of these weasly bastards keep me from doing so, you are sorely fucking mistaken. Now, do you mind? I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on."

Clem is stumped. This is the last thing he expected to hear from a man whose junk is staring him in the face. Five seconds pass after Roger turns back to his computer. He counts every single one as his heart pounds a jackrabbit-pace in his chest.

"Well," Clem begins, "I have to say this. I did not expect this from you. You’ve never been much of a team player around here, Rog, but you do good work and you’re consistent as Hell, I’ll give you that. I’ve never seen anything less than 100% from you, Rog. And maybe I’ve been taking you for granted until now, I don’t know. Maybe this little slice of Roger-style anarchy was my wake-up call. Now, this may seem a little out of character, but I’m just going to throw this out there. How would you like a promotion?"

Roger’s mouth is immediately agape. He swivels to face Clem, who doesn’t wait for a response.

"I mean, I’d have to clear it with Stan, but I really want to make you an offer right here and now. I want you in Dave’s old office, next to me. You’re moving up, Roger, whether you like it or not. I can’t remember when I’ve seen this much youthful energy, this much pizzazz in this office. And it all came from you, Roger. You’re going to show everybody here what is missing in this company. Tell me, Roger. Will you be our newest head of marketing?

Roger is floored and barely gets out, "Are you serious?"

Clem’s broad smile turns downwards. "What are you, some kind of retard? You are so Goddamn fired! Barry, give this asshole your pants!" 




-SLL