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A Measure of Discipline

     

     

     
    Disgusted , I crossed my eyes at the computer screen. I’d been at work less than an hour, but I was already tired of looking at it. I leaned back in my chair and stretched. Life was easier since the university had switched to electronic records, but sometimes I missed the chance to get up and move around that looking for a physical record gave me. Electronic recordkeeping was code for sitting on my ass all day. Except for trips to the john and going to eat, there was little reason for me to ever leave my chair. It was a wonder I didn’t weigh five hundred pounds. I could die in here, and they’d have to take out the windows and use a crane to get me out.
     
    I got up, walked over to the windows that made up my office wall, and looked for a moment. I stared at the reflection cast back at me by the dark tint. Far from five hundred pounds, I was at the opposite end of the scale. I wasn’t scrawny but I was slim, and at five foot ten was rarely the tallest in a room. My shoulders were wide for my build, and I had a great smile. I ran a hand through my short brown hair which I wore spiked slightly in the front and trimmed off my ears and collar. Long had never been a good look for me. I hated my Romanesque nose, but my hazel green eyes were okay, and my facial hair light enough that I never had a five o’clock shadow until closer to eight.
     
    When I realized what I’d been doing, I laughed at myself for spending so much time appraising my looks and shifted my attention to stare through my reflection at the campus I’d worked on my entire adult life. At twenty-eight, it wasn’t as long as I made it sound; though on the gay scale of life, it was getting pretty close to the end of things. I’d gotten my degree here too, but not in Recordkeeping 101. I had been a double major, combining programming and math, my first true love. I glanced around my tiny office. No one looking at it would guess I was a brainiac geek, but I loved numbers. I liked them better than people, to be honest.
     
    I grabbed a package of Reese’s from my drawer and dropped back into my chair. From there I continued to stare out over the campus as I opened the wrapper. Kids rushed around between classes, stopping in shifting huddles to talk before moving on; even from so far away, they looked bright and eager, ready to take on the world. I wondered if any of them knew that life almost never turned out the way they thought it would. I remembered starting at the university with the world as my oyster. What a joke that turned out to be. I never dreamed when I took this crappy office job at nineteen to work my way through school that I’d still be stuck here almost ten years later. I barely supported myself on what I made, and working Saturdays at a part-time gig was the only way to have more in my life than paid rent and something to eat. I was a long way from the dreams that filled my head when I was one of those kids with a backpack slung over a shoulder. I had changed so much since then, I wasn’t sure I recognized myself in my memory of that fresh-faced kid.
     
    Shrugging off my morose thoughts, I took another bite of the candy. I let the milk chocolate and peanut butter soothe away my troubles as I refocused on what I was doing. I was preparing to train a couple students to take over my job. I was into the third day of my two-week notice. The thought made me smile. I might not be that stupid innocent kid anymore, but I still had dreams, and one of them was about to come true. I had landed a programming job and looked forward to a large enough pay increase that I had turned in my notice at both jobs. I would have taken the job even if it had meant a pay cut. I was ready to do anything to get out of the rut I’d dug myself into and get my life back. The idea of programming all day instead of dealing with idiotic records issues was as good as peanut butter. I couldn’t wait.
     
    There was a timid knock on