Scarlet was beginning to wish that Midgar Secretarial Academy had offered a class in making coffee. She'd listened to the girls joke about it often enough, but never imagined she'd find herself seriously thinking about it.
She was getting desperate. She'd been working as assistant secretary in the Shinra weapons department for nearly two weeks now, and still had not successfully made the ancient percolator brew coffee. Her typing was flawless, and she was unexpectedly good at copying schematics, but the coffee machine continued to thwart her. No matter what she did, it refused to produce anything more than bitter, lukewarm water. At first the designers had laughed it off, and told her the machine was older than she was and had always been fussy. When a second Monday arrived without caffeine, some of them had begun to mutter. She decided something had to be done. As dull and monotonous as she found the job, it was better than unemployment.
On Wednesday, Scarlet realized that most of the departments had far more functional coffee machines, and hurried to brew the beverage in the lobby of the space department. On Thursday, she decided that iwaiting/i while the coffee brewed was ridiculous, and poured the waste disposal department's coffee into her own pot. On Friday, she found other secretaries perched like hawks near the coffee machines in every department.
"Damn. Gossip travels fast," she muttered. Scarlet resorted to taking a cup of coffee from each, ignoring the scowls of the mostly older, steel-haired secretaries. When she finished, there was barely enough to fill the pot. Her workday had just officially begun, and she'd already been there for an hour and a half.
"Scarlet, what kind of coffee is this?" She looked up to see Carmine, one of the division managers, standing next to her desk.
She hesitated. "Regular, sir." Did he know what she had been doing all morning?
He looked her in the eye and gave her a hard stare. "We're switching to decaf next week, then. Understood?" Trying to stifle a sigh of relief, she nodded yes.
As soon as he left, she glared at the unresponsive percolator.
"You iwill/i be my bitch," she dared it.
A single bubble perked, and was silent.
The day passed quickly as Scarlet considered plans. The easiest thing would just be to buy a new one, but that would be a good chunk of her paycheck, and she had loan payments to make. She thought about switching the offensive percolator with one in another department, but they all appeared to be nicer, more recent models. It would be immediately obvious.
After her lunch break, she needed to copy the schematics for a fire-materia based weapon and make sure the designer's notes were legible. The design was being submitted to the board, and so the schematic explained how the weapon worked in exacting detail. It didn't strike Scarlet as very efficient - it weighed several pounds and was only marginally more effective or accurate than a fire materia alone in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing.
It did, however, give her an idea.
The percolator itself was an old Shinra Electric model. As soon as she was done copying the schematics for the meeting and making sure the engineers and their prototype made it into the elevator, she went upstairs to the archives and began digging through old patent designs from back when the company had had competitors. After the better part of an hour, covered in dust, she emerged triumphant. She had found the plan of the offensive percolator.
The weapons development office was empty when she returned. She could tell the meeting had not gone well - the prototype and her carefully copied schematics were both in the trash. It was after five, and she assumed everyone had gone home. Scarlet resolved that she would not leave until the coffee machine worked to her specification.
One of the worktables had recently been cleared, so she sat the percolator on it and began opening it up, comparing the innards to the blueprints. In the wiring, she found several sections that were inexplicably cut and twisted together, another where a single copper gil had been used to make a connection. That was what happened when you let weapons engineers take apart household appliances, she supposed. Between the "repairs" and the frayed cord, it was probably a miracle that the damn thing hadn't already burst into flames.
The wiring itself looked pretty easy to fix. She helped herself to some of the wires lying around on the benches, as well as a pair of clippers, and it seemed simple enough to twist them into the places of the broken pieces.
Triumphant, Scarlet brewed herself some coffee to keep her awake during the train ride home. It was past dark, after all, and not safe to be dozing on the train.
For almost a week, the coffee machine perked beautifully, and the rest of her work went smoothly as well. On Thursday afternoon, she got into an argument with the designer of the fire materia weapon.
"Don't they teach you bimbos to type anymore?" he ranted as he stormed into the department.
Scarlet blinked for a minute, unsure she'd heard him correctly. "Excuse me?"
"My proposal just got rejected because iyou/i," he said the word as if he were referring to a particularly disgusting disease, "misspelled half my project!"
"My typing is excellent." Scarlet replied coolly. "Are you sure this idea wasn't as useless as your last one?"
"What?" the designer shouted, his face beginning to purple. "You're just a damn secretary! What the hell do you know?"
Before she could reply, there was the sound of a door closing and Carmine was standing over them both. "What is going on here?"
"This... this incompetent bitch," he sputtered before Scarlet could reply, "can't type, and it cost me my proposal!"
"Odd. I haven't had any problems with her transcription. Can I see the original?" he asked, picking the proposal up from the desk. Scarlet dug through the pile of things she'd finished that morning, worried that she'd thrown it away. Finally she recognized it and pulled it out.
"I do see several words misspelled in here..." Carmine said as Scarlet handed him the originals. She worried for a minute.
He continued, "However, since they're technical terms misspelled in the original, I can see why they were misspelled. Scarlet, I'm going to need you to pay more attention to terminology even if you're not familiar with it." She nodded.
"Completely incompetent. I don't know why she's still here," the designer grumbled.
"I'm just a damn secretary," Scarlet answered smoothly. "If a big, strong, smart engineer like you can't spell it, how can you expect me to?"
Carmine glared at her. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Scarlet." She pouted.
"Regardless," he continued, turning back to the designer, "I talked to the director after the meeting, and the fact that both you and Scarlet apparently cannot spell specific terminology had little to do with your project being rejected. The director thinks you rely too much on materia in your designs. I'm inclined to agree. If you wish to discuss it further, we can do that - quietly - in my office." Carmine turned and began to walk away.
The designer fumed at me for a minute, then turned and hurried after him. "But materia's perfect for almost everything!" he announced as his disappeared through the door.
Scarlet sank into her chair and sighed. After three weeks on this job, she already hated it. It was dull and everyone outranked her. She couldn't do this for another forty years. Her work was finished and most of the managers seemed to be busy elsewhere. She decided no one would begrudge her leaving fifteen minutes early for the sake of her sanity - and if they did, she didn't really care at the moment.
"What an arrogant asshole!" Scarlet announced to her empty apartment. She threw her jacket on the sofa bed, where it landed among the blankets. She hadn't bothered to fold it up in days. There didn't seem to be a point; it wasn't as if she had company.
She woke up late the next morning and had to rush to catch the train. She didn't realize it was raining until she got outside, and she didn't have time to return to her apartment, so she ran for the train station. The train was packed with wet people, and Scarlet had to stand. It was so crowded, in fact, that she couldn't even turn around when some pervert pinched her rear. She fumed until the doors swung open at the Shinra building stop, then dashed into the rain again. Mere minutes before the time her shift was supposed to start, she ran into the building and pushed into an already-full elevator. Again, she was surrounded by wet, pushy people.
When Scarlet emerged into the weapons department foyer, she had already decided this was going to be a bad day. She turned on the coffee maker. It perked and died.
She glared.
It remained silent.
A few feet away, the man she'd argued with yesterday was announcing loudly, "Wow, not only can't she type, she istill/i can't make coffee. Why is that bimbo still working here?"
"For fuck's sake," she allowed her muttering to lapse into street language as she cleaned out the wet coffee grinds, "the whores at the Honeybee-fucking-Inn probably get more respect than this. Better hours, too." She rarely let her respectable veil down since she'd started secretarial school, but today was rapidly becoming a special case. As she slid the filter back into place, the back panel was jarred loose. When she bent to reattach it, she noticed bits of copper hanging loose inside the machine.
For a moment she wondered if she'd made a mistake putting it back together, but then why would it have worked for so long?
No, someone had cut it. Someone trying to make her look bad. Someone who was still standing across the room, announcing loudly how incompetent she was.
Scarlet surprised herself with her calm as she walked over to the workbench. She imagined breaking the percolator over the designer's head, but instead found herself smiling at him as if she hadn't heard him complain.
"Excuse me, there's a broken wire in the coffeepot. Do you mind if I use your workbench for a moment?" He stared at her in surprise for a minute.
"... Go ahead," was all he could choke out. Scarlet thanked him, then sat down on the bench and set about repairing the machine as she'd done the previous week. She was worried about doing it correctly, but she didn't hear a single disparaging comment from the designer behind her, so she guessed she was doing fine. She closed it up and thanked him again, cursing him silently all the while. Once it was returned to its table and plugged in, it ran smoothly.
The office resumed normal operation while Scarlet brooded behind the desk. There had to be a way to get that smug jerk back without getting in trouble.
It finally occurred to her over her lunch break, and she hurried up to the department. To her delight, she was able to find a fire materia - probably left over from his last project - on the workbench of her least favorite designer. He'd trashed the neatly copied plans she'd made for him, but she still had the originals deep in the pile on her desk.
She spent the afternoon copying. If anyone noticed that she was working from two separate sets of plans, they didn't mention anything.
Once everyone left for the evening, Scarlet got to work. Once again, the coffee machine opened beneath her fine fingers, allowing her to study the wiring inside. She double-checked that the changes she'd incorporated from the flame-thrower would work. It looked like they would. Nothing else to do but try.
Three hours later, she was sitting cross-legged on the counter, her shoes and stockings tossed aside, her blouse draped over a stool, hunched over the wiring in the back of the percolator. She'd had to find something to store the new wiring in, and settled for borrowing a small metal case from the storage room. Wiring in the materia had been easier than she'd expected. Maybe that was why the unimaginative incompetent favored it so much? The hard part was turning out to be the user identification.
Eventually, Scarlet decided she'd settle for using a hidden switch to turn off the security measures, and putting a note on the front that others touched the coffeepot at their own risk.
As she slid the casing shut, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and dropped the screwdriver in surprise. Carmine was standing there. How long had he been watching?
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," Scarlet stammered, trying to recover herself. She was acutely aware of just how inappropriate she must have looked. "I was just... fixing the percolator."
He smiled. "Good luck with that." Then he left. She knew she couldn't possibly have fooled him. She supposed he just didn't care. Maybe he'd already planned to fire her. Might as well go out with a bang, she thought.
She put the coffee machine away and put her clothes back properly. It was too late to get a train from the Shinra building proper, but she didn't really care. Even if she got fired for it, it would be worth it. She smiled as she walked down to the train station in the University grounds, and for the first time, she didn't feel disappointed that she'd never gotten to attend classes there. She'd had an idea. She'd followed through on it. It felt good.
She didn't even worry about the drunks on the train.
On Monday, she came in early, but didn't immediately start on work. Instead she went into the small storage closet opposite the break room where the coffee machine sat. If she was right, someone would be along shortly to mess with it in an attempt to make her look bad. She heard several people enter the department, and one or two checked to see if there was coffee ready. One was Carmine. No one turned to look for her.
Finally, someone came over and began fiddling with the coffee machine. Scarlet was not in the least surprised that it was the designer she'd been arguing with all week. He paused to read the note she'd taped to the front, warning that messing with the coffee machine was at his own risk, then tore it off and crumpled it. He turned the machine away from him and stopped. She imagined he was trying to figure out what the new metal case on the back was for. Evidently he decided it wasn't important, because he reached to slide the back panel off regardless.
There was a loud click, and Scarlet could feel the materia trigger, pulling on her energy. She smiled moments before the smell of fireworks filled the air. The designer screamed.
"The note was there for a reason," Scarlet said with a smile as the magic's effect dissipated and the designer was left with no eyebrows and smoldering hair. The rest of the office had come running, and Carmine pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked the two of them up and down.
"You," he said to the smoking designer, "go home. Take the day off. I'll see you tomorrow."
There was a moment of silence.
"Well?" Carmine continued.
"I want to wait and watch you fire her," he replied.
"Why? Because you can't follow directions?"
The designer appeared to deflate several inches. "But... but... she set me on fire! Either she goes or I do!"
Carmine shrugged. "She's been much more effective at her job in the last two weeks than you have."
The designer stormed out, muttering incoherently. I smiled.
"Anyway, Scarlet," Carmine continued, turning to me, "isn't it time you made the morning coffee?"
She was getting desperate. She'd been working as assistant secretary in the Shinra weapons department for nearly two weeks now, and still had not successfully made the ancient percolator brew coffee. Her typing was flawless, and she was unexpectedly good at copying schematics, but the coffee machine continued to thwart her. No matter what she did, it refused to produce anything more than bitter, lukewarm water. At first the designers had laughed it off, and told her the machine was older than she was and had always been fussy. When a second Monday arrived without caffeine, some of them had begun to mutter. She decided something had to be done. As dull and monotonous as she found the job, it was better than unemployment.
On Wednesday, Scarlet realized that most of the departments had far more functional coffee machines, and hurried to brew the beverage in the lobby of the space department. On Thursday, she decided that iwaiting/i while the coffee brewed was ridiculous, and poured the waste disposal department's coffee into her own pot. On Friday, she found other secretaries perched like hawks near the coffee machines in every department.
"Damn. Gossip travels fast," she muttered. Scarlet resorted to taking a cup of coffee from each, ignoring the scowls of the mostly older, steel-haired secretaries. When she finished, there was barely enough to fill the pot. Her workday had just officially begun, and she'd already been there for an hour and a half.
"Scarlet, what kind of coffee is this?" She looked up to see Carmine, one of the division managers, standing next to her desk.
She hesitated. "Regular, sir." Did he know what she had been doing all morning?
He looked her in the eye and gave her a hard stare. "We're switching to decaf next week, then. Understood?" Trying to stifle a sigh of relief, she nodded yes.
As soon as he left, she glared at the unresponsive percolator.
"You iwill/i be my bitch," she dared it.
A single bubble perked, and was silent.
The day passed quickly as Scarlet considered plans. The easiest thing would just be to buy a new one, but that would be a good chunk of her paycheck, and she had loan payments to make. She thought about switching the offensive percolator with one in another department, but they all appeared to be nicer, more recent models. It would be immediately obvious.
After her lunch break, she needed to copy the schematics for a fire-materia based weapon and make sure the designer's notes were legible. The design was being submitted to the board, and so the schematic explained how the weapon worked in exacting detail. It didn't strike Scarlet as very efficient - it weighed several pounds and was only marginally more effective or accurate than a fire materia alone in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing.
It did, however, give her an idea.
The percolator itself was an old Shinra Electric model. As soon as she was done copying the schematics for the meeting and making sure the engineers and their prototype made it into the elevator, she went upstairs to the archives and began digging through old patent designs from back when the company had had competitors. After the better part of an hour, covered in dust, she emerged triumphant. She had found the plan of the offensive percolator.
The weapons development office was empty when she returned. She could tell the meeting had not gone well - the prototype and her carefully copied schematics were both in the trash. It was after five, and she assumed everyone had gone home. Scarlet resolved that she would not leave until the coffee machine worked to her specification.
One of the worktables had recently been cleared, so she sat the percolator on it and began opening it up, comparing the innards to the blueprints. In the wiring, she found several sections that were inexplicably cut and twisted together, another where a single copper gil had been used to make a connection. That was what happened when you let weapons engineers take apart household appliances, she supposed. Between the "repairs" and the frayed cord, it was probably a miracle that the damn thing hadn't already burst into flames.
The wiring itself looked pretty easy to fix. She helped herself to some of the wires lying around on the benches, as well as a pair of clippers, and it seemed simple enough to twist them into the places of the broken pieces.
Triumphant, Scarlet brewed herself some coffee to keep her awake during the train ride home. It was past dark, after all, and not safe to be dozing on the train.
For almost a week, the coffee machine perked beautifully, and the rest of her work went smoothly as well. On Thursday afternoon, she got into an argument with the designer of the fire materia weapon.
"Don't they teach you bimbos to type anymore?" he ranted as he stormed into the department.
Scarlet blinked for a minute, unsure she'd heard him correctly. "Excuse me?"
"My proposal just got rejected because iyou/i," he said the word as if he were referring to a particularly disgusting disease, "misspelled half my project!"
"My typing is excellent." Scarlet replied coolly. "Are you sure this idea wasn't as useless as your last one?"
"What?" the designer shouted, his face beginning to purple. "You're just a damn secretary! What the hell do you know?"
Before she could reply, there was the sound of a door closing and Carmine was standing over them both. "What is going on here?"
"This... this incompetent bitch," he sputtered before Scarlet could reply, "can't type, and it cost me my proposal!"
"Odd. I haven't had any problems with her transcription. Can I see the original?" he asked, picking the proposal up from the desk. Scarlet dug through the pile of things she'd finished that morning, worried that she'd thrown it away. Finally she recognized it and pulled it out.
"I do see several words misspelled in here..." Carmine said as Scarlet handed him the originals. She worried for a minute.
He continued, "However, since they're technical terms misspelled in the original, I can see why they were misspelled. Scarlet, I'm going to need you to pay more attention to terminology even if you're not familiar with it." She nodded.
"Completely incompetent. I don't know why she's still here," the designer grumbled.
"I'm just a damn secretary," Scarlet answered smoothly. "If a big, strong, smart engineer like you can't spell it, how can you expect me to?"
Carmine glared at her. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Scarlet." She pouted.
"Regardless," he continued, turning back to the designer, "I talked to the director after the meeting, and the fact that both you and Scarlet apparently cannot spell specific terminology had little to do with your project being rejected. The director thinks you rely too much on materia in your designs. I'm inclined to agree. If you wish to discuss it further, we can do that - quietly - in my office." Carmine turned and began to walk away.
The designer fumed at me for a minute, then turned and hurried after him. "But materia's perfect for almost everything!" he announced as his disappeared through the door.
Scarlet sank into her chair and sighed. After three weeks on this job, she already hated it. It was dull and everyone outranked her. She couldn't do this for another forty years. Her work was finished and most of the managers seemed to be busy elsewhere. She decided no one would begrudge her leaving fifteen minutes early for the sake of her sanity - and if they did, she didn't really care at the moment.
"What an arrogant asshole!" Scarlet announced to her empty apartment. She threw her jacket on the sofa bed, where it landed among the blankets. She hadn't bothered to fold it up in days. There didn't seem to be a point; it wasn't as if she had company.
She woke up late the next morning and had to rush to catch the train. She didn't realize it was raining until she got outside, and she didn't have time to return to her apartment, so she ran for the train station. The train was packed with wet people, and Scarlet had to stand. It was so crowded, in fact, that she couldn't even turn around when some pervert pinched her rear. She fumed until the doors swung open at the Shinra building stop, then dashed into the rain again. Mere minutes before the time her shift was supposed to start, she ran into the building and pushed into an already-full elevator. Again, she was surrounded by wet, pushy people.
When Scarlet emerged into the weapons department foyer, she had already decided this was going to be a bad day. She turned on the coffee maker. It perked and died.
She glared.
It remained silent.
A few feet away, the man she'd argued with yesterday was announcing loudly, "Wow, not only can't she type, she istill/i can't make coffee. Why is that bimbo still working here?"
"For fuck's sake," she allowed her muttering to lapse into street language as she cleaned out the wet coffee grinds, "the whores at the Honeybee-fucking-Inn probably get more respect than this. Better hours, too." She rarely let her respectable veil down since she'd started secretarial school, but today was rapidly becoming a special case. As she slid the filter back into place, the back panel was jarred loose. When she bent to reattach it, she noticed bits of copper hanging loose inside the machine.
For a moment she wondered if she'd made a mistake putting it back together, but then why would it have worked for so long?
No, someone had cut it. Someone trying to make her look bad. Someone who was still standing across the room, announcing loudly how incompetent she was.
Scarlet surprised herself with her calm as she walked over to the workbench. She imagined breaking the percolator over the designer's head, but instead found herself smiling at him as if she hadn't heard him complain.
"Excuse me, there's a broken wire in the coffeepot. Do you mind if I use your workbench for a moment?" He stared at her in surprise for a minute.
"... Go ahead," was all he could choke out. Scarlet thanked him, then sat down on the bench and set about repairing the machine as she'd done the previous week. She was worried about doing it correctly, but she didn't hear a single disparaging comment from the designer behind her, so she guessed she was doing fine. She closed it up and thanked him again, cursing him silently all the while. Once it was returned to its table and plugged in, it ran smoothly.
The office resumed normal operation while Scarlet brooded behind the desk. There had to be a way to get that smug jerk back without getting in trouble.
It finally occurred to her over her lunch break, and she hurried up to the department. To her delight, she was able to find a fire materia - probably left over from his last project - on the workbench of her least favorite designer. He'd trashed the neatly copied plans she'd made for him, but she still had the originals deep in the pile on her desk.
She spent the afternoon copying. If anyone noticed that she was working from two separate sets of plans, they didn't mention anything.
Once everyone left for the evening, Scarlet got to work. Once again, the coffee machine opened beneath her fine fingers, allowing her to study the wiring inside. She double-checked that the changes she'd incorporated from the flame-thrower would work. It looked like they would. Nothing else to do but try.
Three hours later, she was sitting cross-legged on the counter, her shoes and stockings tossed aside, her blouse draped over a stool, hunched over the wiring in the back of the percolator. She'd had to find something to store the new wiring in, and settled for borrowing a small metal case from the storage room. Wiring in the materia had been easier than she'd expected. Maybe that was why the unimaginative incompetent favored it so much? The hard part was turning out to be the user identification.
Eventually, Scarlet decided she'd settle for using a hidden switch to turn off the security measures, and putting a note on the front that others touched the coffeepot at their own risk.
As she slid the casing shut, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and dropped the screwdriver in surprise. Carmine was standing there. How long had he been watching?
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," Scarlet stammered, trying to recover herself. She was acutely aware of just how inappropriate she must have looked. "I was just... fixing the percolator."
He smiled. "Good luck with that." Then he left. She knew she couldn't possibly have fooled him. She supposed he just didn't care. Maybe he'd already planned to fire her. Might as well go out with a bang, she thought.
She put the coffee machine away and put her clothes back properly. It was too late to get a train from the Shinra building proper, but she didn't really care. Even if she got fired for it, it would be worth it. She smiled as she walked down to the train station in the University grounds, and for the first time, she didn't feel disappointed that she'd never gotten to attend classes there. She'd had an idea. She'd followed through on it. It felt good.
She didn't even worry about the drunks on the train.
On Monday, she came in early, but didn't immediately start on work. Instead she went into the small storage closet opposite the break room where the coffee machine sat. If she was right, someone would be along shortly to mess with it in an attempt to make her look bad. She heard several people enter the department, and one or two checked to see if there was coffee ready. One was Carmine. No one turned to look for her.
Finally, someone came over and began fiddling with the coffee machine. Scarlet was not in the least surprised that it was the designer she'd been arguing with all week. He paused to read the note she'd taped to the front, warning that messing with the coffee machine was at his own risk, then tore it off and crumpled it. He turned the machine away from him and stopped. She imagined he was trying to figure out what the new metal case on the back was for. Evidently he decided it wasn't important, because he reached to slide the back panel off regardless.
There was a loud click, and Scarlet could feel the materia trigger, pulling on her energy. She smiled moments before the smell of fireworks filled the air. The designer screamed.
"The note was there for a reason," Scarlet said with a smile as the magic's effect dissipated and the designer was left with no eyebrows and smoldering hair. The rest of the office had come running, and Carmine pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked the two of them up and down.
"You," he said to the smoking designer, "go home. Take the day off. I'll see you tomorrow."
There was a moment of silence.
"Well?" Carmine continued.
"I want to wait and watch you fire her," he replied.
"Why? Because you can't follow directions?"
The designer appeared to deflate several inches. "But... but... she set me on fire! Either she goes or I do!"
Carmine shrugged. "She's been much more effective at her job in the last two weeks than you have."
The designer stormed out, muttering incoherently. I smiled.
"Anyway, Scarlet," Carmine continued, turning to me, "isn't it time you made the morning coffee?"