Title: Another Day, Another Dollar, Part 2 (#5, J ‘N B Series)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Janice Rand
Summary: Sequel to Another Day, Another Dollar, and a Daily Show?; Office!AU. Janice the temp is having the work day from Hell, and surprisingly people at Kirk Enterprises are nice enough to care. Based on this pic of Chris at jim_and_bones.
Previous Parts: Another Day, Another Dollar, and a Daily Show? | Fight the Good Fight | Don’t Touch the Rock | A Tear Worth Gold

Ever have one of those days that make you want to yell at God “You’re fired!”? Janice is currently in the middle of a Day of Catastrophes. The morning starts out simple enough… except that she’s so groggy (even after a shower) that she burns her hand on her curling iron and chokes on mouthwash (never speed up your morning routine just because you woke up ten minutes late) which makes her kind of sick to her stomach. Drinking water doesn’t help.

But then she misses the bus (again, ten minutes late somehow makes all the difference) and has to hail a cab she can’t really afford in order to get to work before her boss. Well, none of this is unusual because evil mornings do occur once and a while for the working gal. Janice fully expects to soothe herself with a donut she’d otherwise talk herself out of eating. Perhaps it should have been a clue then, upon her arrival, that the usual office donut-bringer had called in sick (she thinks his name is Decker) and the sad lack of morning donuts and pastries in the lounge is the reason why she discovers Mr. Scott—Scotty, to most everyone—from the second floor turning in circles close to the refrigerator like a lost child. He says to her, ominously, “Och, this is going to be a bad day.”

Janice digs in her purse, attempts to offer him a mid-afternoon yogurt cup snack she brings to work, but he shakes his head sadly and leaves jelly-donut-less and quite depressed. Janice knows the second floor harbors the IT and Infrastructure department; it’s said without those particular employees the building itself would implode.

The morning is agonizingly slow until a telemarketer calls. The first time she answers his call she is polite. No, Kirk Enterprises is not in need of a water vending machine or a magazine subscription to water vending machines. But he is persist and calls back on the hour, each hour (the economy is that bad), and starts asking to speak to the manager or the person in charge of office purchases. But Janice doesn’t dare transfer him to anyone else because it’s year-end and everyone is crazy-busy, especially the financial department who have commandeered flame-torches just for those morons who interrupt their work day with anything less than the announcement of Armageddon (which, apparently, still can’t compare to Year End Armageddon) or a very high priority phone call from one of the internal auditors.

Her headache begins after the third call, which she fends off by saying that no one is available to talk to him and he is tying up the phone lines for clients and businesses affiliated with the company. Could he please try back next week?

Janice wants badly to yell at him by his fifth consecutive call before lunchtime but her cubicle has flimsy, non-soundproofing walls and if she loses her temper in view of the entire office, the temp agency will surely send someone immediately to collect her. Hanging up the phone with a resounding bang is the best she can do to ease her growing temper.

Finally she takes a bathroom break during a lull of phone calls to toss cold water on her face and swallow some aspirin. That’s when she discovers that her hosiery has an unsightly run in the very front of her leg from ankle to knee. She could wear badly patched fishnet stockings than looked better. Forced to strip off her hose in a bathroom stall, this is the point where Janice accidently bangs her already aching head against the hook on the inside of the door; then her ponytail and necklace simultaneously get caught by the hook (in an attempt to strangle her?) and it’s a two-minute struggle of cursing and stomping to yank herself free.

By the time Janice steps out of the stall, Executive Director Nyota Uhura is watching her sharply in the mirror, lipstick tube hovering near the woman’s mouth. Uhura is perfection personified in her trim jacket-skirt suit, high heels, and diamond earrings. Jan, ruined hose in hand, looks like she’s been in a fight with an angry cat.

Janice drops her eyes, embarrassed, and washes her hands in the sink. Uhura caps her lipstick and exits the bathroom. Jan almost cries in relief.

Back to work, then. She is astonished to find a frowning, neatly dressed man waiting by her desk. She hurries over to him, apologizing and explaining that she had taken a short bathroom break. Had he been waiting long? Can she get him a glass of water? Does he have an appointment?

The man levels a flat look at her and states, “I have an urgent meeting scheduled with Mr. Kirk at 11 am. It is now 11:03.” His eyes flick down to the cheap crystal watch on her wrist which never shows the correct time. “Perhaps you might invest in a more efficient watch.”

Janice takes the criticism with grace and a bit of shame. “I will tell Mr. Kirk that…”

“I am Mr. Spock,” he supplies readily.

“…you are waiting in the lobby, Mr. Spock.”

She tries calling Kirk’s office. The busy message is on. Asking Mr. Spock to please take a seat (he doesn’t, though, only stands there, eyes boring into her), Jan hurries across the floor to the windowed suite with the blinds drawn closed. She hates, hates, hates going to his office because he is always in the middle of some important video conference with company Board members. Despite that he never gives her the stink eye for interrupting him, never says an unkind word, or snaps at her, she still feels bad about barging in unannounced.

Janice knocks softly on the door. No response. A glance over her shoulder confirms that Mr. Spock disapproves of her hesitancy. Her second knock is firmer. Someone might have just said come in. She isn’t sure but she cracks open the door anyway.

And instantly regrets doing so.

Mr. McCoy and Mr. Kirk jump apart like they have been zapped. Kirk’s shirt is open to the waist and McCoy’s tie is askew. On any other day, she would have slammed the door shut again and scurried back to her cubicle to blush into her hands and rearrange the items on her desk twice.

But there’s another matter to be dealt with. Eyes resolutely fixed on a spot above both men’s heads, she says, “Forgive me, Mr. Kirk. Mr. Spock is here to see you.” Then she closes the door and scurries back to her desk, face red.

Mr. Spock only lifts his eyebrow, silent. She explains that Mr. Kirk will be with him momentarily—once he is finished with another meeting that ran over its allotted time.

In fact, it takes only five minutes for Jim Kirk to come out of his office. The man’s purposeful stride towards Mr. Spock almost succeeds in distracting any trained eye from noticing how Leonard McCoy slips out of Kirk’s office a second later and disappears around a corner of another cubicle. But she was watching for McCoy and secretly smiles to herself.

Kirk doesn’t acknowledge Jan and Jan doesn’t acknowledge him, barring a polite “I will hold your calls, Mr. Kirk.”

He doesn’t correct her like usual either and remind her to use his first name.

Well, she hadn’t arrived early enough to catch McCoy’s entrance (Christine had chastised Jan for missing the production—“He’s gorgeous in that three-piece today, and I dropped a whole box of pens”) but that sneak peek of Kirk and McCoy in each other’s arms is sooo much better. She knows she shouldn’t have fantasies of her co-workers (or boss) but what warm-blooded woman could resist? Now she has a new delicious mental image to feed her imagination. This job, though Janice Rand has only been temp-ing here for two months, is the best job she has had by far.

The one bright spot in the day is quickly overshadowed by a hellish afternoon. She could complain about the unnatural influx of calls—every two minutes, being a receptionist sucks—or the tech guy with unfortunate body odor who shows up two hours late to fix the server (when the Internet goes down, people think the world is ending and cannot function) who keeps his eyes fixed on her breasts and does not take heed of her attempts to ignore him. She could, but those are not the most troubling issues.

She had Chinese for lunch because it’s fast and the unwieldy, jostling crowds of people in the downtown area make fast lunch as precious as gold. Now, however, it isn’t settling in her stomach well and she has heartburn. Yet heartburn or not, Jim had tossed a few pages of unreadable notes onto her desk for her type up (why is his handwriting so awful? she muses) and Jan is stuck on a squiggle that could either be a t or a f and refuses to make up its mind.

Frustrated and suddenly feeling like she might throw up (oh God, food poisoning? just what she needs, she can’t afford a sick day), Janice swings around the corner of her cubicle, Jim’s notes in her hand, without paying attention—and smacks right into Leonard McCoy and his after-lunch coffee cup. Said-coffee cup spills its contents all over them both. Leonard’s “Goddamn it!” is very close to her own “OH GOD!”

Her only silk blouse—coffee covered, ruined. Mr. Kirk’s handwritten notes—equally ruined.

Her stomach clenches painfully at that moment. She doesn’t even have time to apologize before clamping a hand over her mouth and bolting for the women’s restroom.

Christine Chapel, who is drying her hands by the door, calls “Hey, Jan, what’s—” which goes unanswered until, that is, Janice is vomiting into the nearest toilet.

The temp’s mind is idly ticking away, saying thank God you didn’t puke on Leonard and what am I going to do about the notes! and no Chinese from that restaurant ever again, never ever. When she is finished, at least for the time-being as there could be a repeat performance, she flushes the toilet and sits limply on the cool tile floor of the bathroom.

The sound of running water starts and stops. A wet paper towel is pushed into her hand.

Jan manages weakly, “Thanks.”

Christine squats down to her level. “You pregnant, honey?”

Janice’s laughter is strangled. “Definitely not.” Then she sniffles. “I spilt coffee all over Leonard.”

“At least you didn’t throw up on him.”

Another laugh bubbles up, along with bile. She burps. Christine pats her hand. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“A rock to hide under?” she jokes. Her stomach feels sensitive; when she puts a hand against it, Christine looks concerned. She tells the woman, “I, um, I’m okay. Really.”

“You can go home, you know, if you aren’t well. Want me to find someone to drive you?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that bad.” Heaving herself to her feet, she wobbles over to the sink to wash out her mouth.

Christine helps her blot her soaked blouse, then runs and fetches an extra sweater Christine keeps on the door of her office. “It gets so cold in here sometimes,” says Christine as Jan slips it on. “I can’t stand the cold.”

Jan feels better, good enough to leave the safety of the bathroom, but when she arrives at her desk she realizes she doesn’t remember what happened to the notes. She cannot find them—not in the trash can (she looks in hers and then the closest one to her cubicle) or in the bathroom or in the hallway. Bordering upset, Janice tries to tell herself finding them wouldn’t help anyway, not with the state they were last in. Still, she can’t complete her assignment and her stomach hurts and damn it, damn it, damn it! she is going to be McCoy’s least favorite person after today.

The phone rings. She waits a second, picks it up, and says woefully, “Kirk Enterprises. How may I direct your call?”

A familiar voice begins the same spiel: “Hello, I am calling from Aqua Delight, a thr—”

Jan’s fingers turn white around the phone handle. “Stop it!” she shrieks and on impulse bangs the phone against the desk several times for good measure. Only marginally calmer, she snaps out, “Stop calling here! I’ve already told you we don’t need your services. We have a water cooler, it works fine, and we’re SATISFIED WITH IT, YOU NINCOMPOOP! UGH!” She hangs up.

A voice says over her shoulder, “Wow, Bones, what did you do to Janice?”

Janice half-turns, sees the CEO of Kirk Enterprises and Mr. McCoy standing behind her, and is mortified. She puts a hand to her mouth and drops her head to her desk. So much for her job; so much for making her rent this month. The landlady’s going to kick her out now, she just knows it.

Is it any wonder Janice starts to cry a little, if silently?

A hand pats her back awkwardly. Leonard tries to comfort her by saying, “Hey, it’s all right, darlin’.”

For his sake, she wipes her face and tries to compose herself. “I’m so sorry about the coffee, Mr. McCoy.”

Leonard says quickly, “Now, it’s my place to say sorry. I dumped my coffee all over you and your papers ‘cause I’m an idiot.”

She looks up at him in surprise. “But…”

Leonard looks pointedly at her; she shuts up. “I told Jim all about it, and that he wouldn’t have any business fussing at you for something that’s my fault.”

Jim holds up the now-soggy notes she couldn’t find. “Don’t worry about this. Spock said he’d email me a copy of his notes.”

McCoy snorts. “Which you ought to have asked for in the first place, Jim. Spock’s notes are always a sight better than your chicken scratch.”

Kirk flaps the notes at his partner. “Hey, no insulting the boss. I even let you borrow one of my shirts.”

Leonard jerks at his collar. “It’s damned tight, too.”

“Your shoulders are broader than Jim’s,” Janice offers by way of explanation. She flushes when they look at her. “I mean, that was nice of Mr. Kirk. And of you, Mr. McCoy, for—everything.”

He smiles at her. The last of her urge to cry vanishes.

The CEO says to her, “We heard from Christine that you aren’t feeling well. And to top it off, Bones dumped coffee over your head.”

McCoy jabs Kirk with his elbow and scowls.

“So,” concludes Jim, “take the rest of the day to recuperate. You can put down a full day’s work,” he adds when she tries to protest.

There isn’t much to say accept a fervent thank you. Janice does so, more than once. Jim just winks and strolls down the hall toward the company lounge. Leonard hesitates before following him, though, and looks at her. “Do you need a ride home?” he asks.

Janice almost says no but after today she deserves a treat, right? Instead the young woman smiles sweetly. “Please.”

McCoy nods, waits while she collects her purse and shuts down her computer. Then she hurriedly clicks along the hallway after him in her short heels, never mind what a mess she looks with a rumpled skirt, stained shirt, and pale, un-tanned legs. Nyota and Christine, who are coming out of the lounge together, pause and give her a long look. She points at Leonard’s back, grins ridiculously and bounces a little.

Uhura smirks. Christine pouts.

And a terrible day is made right again.

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Related Posts:

• A Rose By Any Other Name – from April 9, 2011
• A Tear Worth Gold (#4, J ‘N B Series) – from September 8, 2011
• Another Day, Another Dollar, and a Daily Show? (#1, J ‘N B Series) – from July 26, 2011