Bovine Notes
by Yvette Davis
I often imagined there was someone just like me living in the place where I wished to live. She was wearing the clothes I saw in Vogue or Mademoiselle. Her life was extraordinary compared to mine. She lived far across the ocean with majestic mountain scenery as a backdrop to the roads she traveled. She would vacation at azure seacoasts with soft as cotton sand running between her toes. Neither a care of ill health or lack of monetary funds would cross her neurons. Everyone loved her that would come in contact with her. It was always their pleasure to be in her company. Heads would turn whenever her melodious laughter would permeate the room. Someone would call out her name, Korina, from across the room and her smile would capture the hearts of all the men in attendance.
Then too often I would sink back into my own reality. My pathetic little life of being an office cow in a large corporation; stuck in my cave with my other office cow co-workers. We all wore badges around our necks or hung from our waists. We continually looked busy. What the other cows did in our row we did not know only that we worked well as a team and got along splendidly with one another. It did not matter how well we worked or the amount of our productivity. For our ratings were already set for us. All we needed to do was to show up. Keep our cow seats warm and nodding our heads as if we understood the purpose of our work.
We all had a cow supervisor; they would be either male or female. You could hear them talking amongst themselves. Always laughing and cutting jokes with each other; I could only believe their sole purpose was to make sure their little cow subordinates were always happy and did not rock the ship we were all in.
Our supervisor would hold weekly meetings and we would listen to the big cow talk about the corporate happenings and whether we were selling this or that. Then he would ask us to go around the room and give everyone a briefing on their current projects and if there were any issues we needed to bring up. Everyone smiled and gave their updates then we would leave the room and head back to our cow caves. Sometimes we would nudge and grunt at each other on the way back from the meeting. Our team lead would give us a short motivational high five speech as the meadow muffins would pile up behind him.
All the cows would settle back down into their ergonomic chairs adjusting the workspace on the computer screen and start to pretend they were working on something of value. Every two hours a cow would walk over to another cow cave to start a “work conversation” with its peer. I mostly stayed in my own little cave and let the other cows come to me. They would order me around as if I were their personal servant.
Then one day I met this odd looking cow, he seemed out of sorts and did not fit in with the regular cows. He bore a large birthmark on his forehead that resembled a black hare. I started to listen to his opinions and ramblings of human nature. He would advise me how I could leave this cow cave anytime I wanted to. All I had to do was take off my bell and the supervisors wouldn’t hear me escaping.
I asked him “Why haven’t you left?” in a curious tone.
His reply was rather shocking. “I have tried to escape many times only to be caught in the turnstile.”
He looked down at his leg and it was turned in like a twisted pretzel. I could see his dilemma and I knew this was my purpose to save this creature from this institution of dung. I would plan our escape.
Yvette: I have lived in the same small town all my life. I work for a large corporation as a Training Coordinator. Recently took up writing from the inspiration of friends. I enjoy writing short stories and prose. I am working on a mystery novel. I have never been published. Living the single life with no children. I enjoy reading and consider myself eclectic with music, books and friends. Contact Yvette.
