I’ll admit it: I’m not necessarily at the top of this office’s totem pole. To be perfectly honest, I don’t have a towering presence that influences others and commands respect. People never consider me an authority or expect me to make decisions. In fact, I can’t even remember a time when I took control of a situation. But pretty soon all of that’s going to change. Because the minute my coworkers hear about the adorable baby deer I saw this weekend while driving out in the countryside, there’s going to be a new top dog in this place.
Yes, sir. Get ready for a little change in the pecking order around here.
I can just picture it now: Everyone will just be standing around in the breakroom, probably talking about going out to happy hour at McHenry’s, completely unaware of the mind-blowing anecdote they’re about to hear. That’s when I’ll stroll into their midst, hands in my pockets, nonchalantly biding my time until someone asks me what I was up to last weekend. “Oh, nothing really,” I’ll say. “I just happened to see a little fawn scamper onto the road right in front of my Toyota, quivering on its wobbly legs and gazing at me serenely in the high beams.”
Boom. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the new head honcho ‘round these parts.
At the exact moments the words “baby deer” leave my mouth, I will finally and rightfully assume my place as The Man in this office. I’ll be the new king of the jungle. The big kahuna. The cock of the walk, if you will. Whatever you want to call it, things are going to change in a goddamn jiffy once my coworkers gather around to hear about how this teeny tiny deer’s mother came rustling out of the forest too, and they both just stood there nuzzling together not more than 20 feet ahead of me.
After they listen to that, I bet people will come up to me all the time saying things like “Hey, man, I heard you saw that deer this past weekend” and “Would you ever let me buy you a drink after work?” They’ll ask me that. Not Andrew Peterson in sales. Not Frank Brooks in development. Me. The guy everyone will know to respect. Hell, I bet they’ll even give me a nickname as a sign of honor. “It’s Mr. Baby Deer Story himself,” they’ll say in awed whispers every time I stride into a room.
Because, let’s be real: What else are they going to do? Disrespect the man who just took their breath away with his tale of nature’s adorable majesty? No way in hell. Not in a million fucking years. This was a real, honest-to-God cuddly baby deer we’re talking about here, my friends. It had a button nose, shiny eyes, and even a bit of a caper in its gait as it merrily bounded along the road. And those are exactly the kind of absolutely darling details that are going to make my coworkers treat me like a big shot—right after they pick their jaws up off the goddamn floor, that is.
What’s going to be better than anything else, though, will be seeing the looks of complete reverence wash over my coworkers’ faces as I loom over them, boldly recounting the sweetie pie’s fluffy white tail, precious perky ears, and dainty hooves. And when I’m the center of attention, they’ll see that I exude an air of danger as soon as they learn how I got out of my car and slowly started sneaking toward the lovely little deer family—being really careful not to startle them, of course. Hoo mama, you might as well just place the crown on my head right now. I’m gonna be the undisputed king of this place. Who wouldn’t respect and fear me after a story like that?
Yes sir, pretty soon I’ll be the one calling the shots, and frankly, if a dethroned alpha male like Steve Hesser has a problem with that, I’ll just tell him to go fuck off—straight to his face, too. Because what’s he going to do? Talk back to the guy who just regaled him with the heart-melting image of this tranquil, doe-eyed deer nibbling on grass after it went off to the side of the road?
I don’t fucking think so.
And if Steve doesn’t like it, I’ll sock him straight in the jaw, and no one will think the worse of me for it, either. Hell, they’ll probably cheer me on. Why? Because I’m the one with the cute baby deer story. Not him. So if I give him one cold cock, just to teach him a lesson about who the new big dog in the office is, well, I think that’s well within my rights.
As soon as I finish telling the story, I’m probably going to be riding on such an adrenaline high, I bet I’ll go right up to Christine from HR, kiss her full on the mouth, and then throw her over my shoulder. And she’ll like it, too. Because once everyone hears how I almost got close enough to pet the baby deer on its soft fur, they’ll know who the real fucking boss of this place is.
Me. I’m the one who saw that deer, god damnit! Not them.