#writetest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mortenwrites-blog · 7 years

Text

2.1

His fingers seemed attached to the coffee cup. Normally he would be listening to the radio at this time, eating dinner. It would keep him from thinking about work and his fingers would tap along with the rhythm of the song or he would drum with the cutlery on the table. Not this time though. He was exhausted. Even more so than last time. He also tried to keep his thoughts together, directed towards work but found it hard to do. A quick look at the clock that hang above the doorway told him it was 6.30 pm and only made him feel more tired.

At least tomorrow is a Saturday…

A small comfort, but one he allowed himself during this idiotic day. He had woken up this morning at 6:00 to make the journey all the way up North, a journey of four hours (or three-and-a-half if he was really lucky, which until now he had not been). They had insisted on him being there, saying that the Friday meetings were really necessary to get everyone’s mind set “on the same thing”. Daan, on the other hand, only believed it would cause two things:

1. Time was being wasted.

2. Money was being wasted even more.

Not that this was really a problem for him. If they requested him to be there, he would be there…. at his hourly rate. That was something he had made clear from the start. He was perfectly fine with working from a document, stating what they needed from him, what he should call the files, how it should sound and when the deadline would be. He had told them this when they first met. After that conversation, he didn’t hear from them for a week, until the next Thursday, when he had gotten a request to “be there at the next day, at 10:00 am”. He had thought they were kidding and had called them immediately, only to hear an overly enthousiastic producer explain why it was necessary for him to be there.

That Friday had been a drag. He sat there for a whole day, doing absolutely nothing, listening to all the nice things the producers and game designers wanted to do and how great everything was going to be. The first hour had been fine, he even had felt enthousiastic. The other seven hours were a whole lot less interesting unfortunately and he had wished he had known beforehand. He did not yet complain however. If they were o.k. with paying him money for being there doing nothing so be it, he thought. He had sat there the whole session, became more mentally aware again when he picked up some signs of the meeting coming to an end and left the conference room knowing exactly as much about the project as coming in. Stepping into his car, he had found out it had been seven in the evening already and he had decided it would be best to stop somewhere midway to eat something.

Around nine he had eaten everything edible in the car and couldn’t go on anymore without a bite, so he had stopped at a local pub somewhere halfway his journey. It was a small town and the pub was even smaller, but they had food and after looking at him eating half-minded, staring blankly ahead, the bartender had asked him how he came to be a zombie with a preference for a regular meal. Daan had told him about the meeting and the journey he had made and still had to make.

‘Bloody hell, you must be absolutely mad to drive all the way for that!’

Mad… and desperate for money. But that was too much to tell the man. He had payed for the food (which had been ridiculously tasty) and had stepped into his car, feeling only half ready for the last two hour part of his journey.

That whole thing was 3 weeks ago now. The next Thursday they had called him again and he had told them he would be there if they wanted it, but he would again charge his hourly rate and the travelling costs. It appeared to be no problem for them. They really wanted him to be there. They wanted him to be there every Friday, again stating this was very important. That day, they actually had had some information. At least enough to give him something to work on… For a day.

The next week though had again been a session like the first and now, after yet another session like those Daan started wondering himself if this was worth it. Yes, it paid. But he would actually like to do something for it, not only driving eight hours to be sitting still for eight hours. Today, the meeting had basically been all “It would be wonderfull if we could do this” and “we are going to be a great team!”. It didn’t feel even a bit like it and Daan started wondering if it had been worth immigrating to England especially for this job.

They had required him to do so and it had seemed like a nice opportunity. He had no ties in The Netherlands other than the obvious ones, no work that was actually paying well and when they had told him they would take care for everything they could it had seemed like a nice move in his career. When they had discussed his hourly rate, he even had become happy enough to do a little heel-clack in his mind.

Today however made him doubt it all. This was going nowhere and he had become more and more frustrated during this conference, listening to the producers whining on about all the things they could do, only able to play with the stirring rod in his coffee. He was not there to listen to this. He was here to discuss technical problems, organise things, make a plan or a schedule. It makes money per hour, he thought, not recognising his thought process as his own and when the meeting came to an end he rushed out long before the others.

‘Daan! Wait!’

One of his female coworkers, probably one of the 2D designers, had shouted after him but he payed it no mind. Not now. His mind was set on leaving soon. Before she was able to make it through the hallway and turn around the corner, he was already halfway down the fifteen story building in the elevator. In the basement, he stepped out, rudely put down his visitors tag on the caretakers counter and stepped into the parking garage. His car was somewhere in the middle and he slammed the door shut after stepping in. For a tiny moment he rested his head against the headrest, let out a sigh and then tried to start the engine.

Nothing….

Another try, again nothing.

Through his window he now saw who had followed him downstairs. It was Nataly. Annoyed because of the conversation he expected was going to happen he opened the door again.

‘Daan…. goddamnit….’ She had to catch her breath. Apparently she had chosen to take the stairs.

‘Daan, we are all really sorry for today. If we had known, we would’ve advised you not to come. This was ridiculous, even for us! And you had to drive all the way for this!’

‘It’s already to late, Nataly. And of course you guys couldn’t have known this. But maybe its a good idea to check with the producers next time. If I show up, I like to do something meaningfull, not sit around all day hearing how great and wonderfull we all are..’

‘I understand. We all feel like that. We will talk to them.’

Good luck with that… 'That would be wonderfull. Let’s hope it will also make a difference… Can you at least do me a favor and send me some ambiences to work on? Some images or small videos? Just so I can start building some sample libraries. I’m afraid this is not going to work otherwise. If they are going to send me everything last minute, I won’t be able to design all of this. Not if they want something they can release to the public.’

‘I will. I’ll send you a mail on Monday.’

‘Thank you…. See you next week then I suppose.’

‘Yeah, see you next week.’

She seemed a bit more relieved and walked to her own car, a new red VW Beetle, started the engine and drove out of the garage. Daan, glad that the conversation went into the direction of apologies instead of another round of “We Are Great”, also tried to start his engine, which now apparently found it the right time to wake up but still was very reluctant about driving up the small incline, out of the garage. A right turn onto the street and into the late traffic. Two hours and we will have dinner at least. I wonder what they have today…’

#story #2 #chapter #one #starting #writer #writetest

0 notes