The Ides of March

I stood so quickly, my chair fell backwards. The other patrons of the café all looked worriedly in my direction. In the direction of that shouting, red-faced man.

I left.

Over the next few weeks, the anger festered inside of me. My boss, the only one from the firm who I had any contact with, noticed my distractedness and commented one day. "Bill, what's got your goat? You look like the world is crushing you between two mountains. What's up?"

"Aah, I found out recently some unsavoury facts about my recent divorce and it's not sitting well with me," I replied.

"You mean you finally found out that Rochelle and Alan were an item almost as soon as you left on the road? I thought everyone knew. Sorry Bill. I thought you knew."

My anger now had a target. "You mean you knew about it? When did you find out?"

"Two weeks after you started your new job. The gossip mill had seen them drinking and canoodling at The Pig and Whistle."

"And you didn't tell me? You knew all that time and you didn't tell me? What sort of a low act was that? I busted a gut for this firm, building up the reputation and client base and this is how you repaid me. You allowed my wife to fuck another employee, just so that I could stay on the road and bring in the bucks! You knew that if I had even an inkling of something going on, I would have left that job and gone back here so that I could be more with Rochelle."

"Now you listen here Saunders. You have no call to talk to me like that. This firm doesn't have one of those bullshit clauses about employees bonking each other. Everyone here is an adult who can make their own decisions. All I care about is that each one of them puts in the effort they are paid for. I would advise you to leave this office now before you say or do something you might regret." He turned away from me while saying, "Just so you know, everyone, even the cleaning ladies knew of their trysts."

"What a bastard!" I thought. He had to twist the knife into my back as I was leaving.

I stormed out of his office and in my blind rage, ended up in the accounting hall where all of the employees were stationed. I climbed up onto one of the cubicles and hit a trash can until everyone looked up and stopped their work.

"I have something very important to tell all of you. I don't think everyone here knows me, because for the last year, I have been working on the road, only coming into this office after you guys have left for home. I am Bill Saunders. I used to be married to Rochelle, that whore in the last cubicle on the left, next to her now husband's cubicle."

There was an audible mumbling as everyone understood who I was. They may not know me, but they knew of me and most of them knew of Rochelle and Alan's antics from as early as they started. Rochelle and Alan were visibly paling as my tirade continued.

"You all knew about their cheating as soon as it started. In fact, some of you even encouraged my trollop ex-wife to continue with her slut whoring. I'll bet Alan had some fine tales of his conquest which he shared around the coffee bar in the breaks. Did Alan tell all of you that he loved to seduce married women? What was the strike rate Alan? Was it ninety percent, ninety-two percent? Surely as an accountant you would have crunched the numbers."

There were some heads going down. The truths of my tirade were hitting home. There were accusing glances shooting from Rochelle to Alan. Alan was looking very defensive. There were even some sly smiles showing on the faces of many of the women. They knew that what I said was true.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that I curse each of you. I curse you for your participation in this cruel deceit. You allowed me to become a cuckold, the laughingstock of this company. I am sure that my continued ignorance of this whore and this snake must have fed the gossip mill here for months. Well, I hope that each of you learns that your partner, husband, boyfriend, or girlfriend gives you the best range of STDs available. I hope that when you get tested for that groin infection which won't go away, the doctor informs you of the need to register on the STD list. I hope that the conversation you have with your significant other is as painful as this whole situation is to me." I was yelling at the start, but now my voice was a loud stage whisper. I had their attention and they were none too happy about what I said.

I jumped down and left amidst an increasing volume of denials and mutterings.

I knew what I had to do.

I went home and immediately applied for a number of auditor positions in some of the larger competitor companies. I felt confident that, given my reputation, someone would take me on. I would do one more road trip. A long one which would see me visit as many of my clients as possible. Each client I saw was given a heads up that I would be leaving SAS and possibly working for another firm. I left them considering if they would follow me to the new firm. Unethical, I know, but my bastard boss also had to pay the piper for his part in all of this. No doubt, word would get back to him from some of the clients, but by then it would be too late.

One week into my visitation road trip, a company called Ace Accounting and Auditors contacted me. They were very keen for me to come in for an interview regarding a position that they had. It went well and I could start whenever it suited me, as long as it was within the next month. Perfect!

I completed my trip and went into the office as usual, late at night. The night security people knew me and were used to my comings and goings at unusual hours. One of them, Raul, was particularly chatty with me. Many were the nights when he and I were the only ones at the offices. It was a welcome reprieve from his lonely shift. We got to be quite friendly. He was on tonight. He quietly escorted me up to the offices.

"Hey Bill," he said conspiratorially, "You must have really pissed off the boss. He told all the security staff to not let you in if and when you came back from your latest trip." At this point he winked and said, "You are not here. The other watchmen and I had a talk about it. We all think that it was pretty low what happened to you and that you deserved better. Do what you need to do man and I will see you around." With a friendly pat on the shoulder, he left to continue his rounds and left me alone. The office area which used to be mine had been packed up. No doubt they were waiting for my return to formally sack me and escort me from the building in that time-honoured walk of shame. I got there first.

I sorted what I wanted and left the rest. I may have peed on the remains, or not! There was one last task I had to perform. Well two, actually. On my travels, I visited a native Indian herbal shop and purchased a quite large quantity of Poison Ivy, Poison Oak and Poison Sumac. This was all dried and in the form of a very fine powder. I also purchased a spray bottle suitable for spreading this powder over a large area. These were in my briefcase. Carefully I prepared the powdery substances for distribution via the spray bottle. My face was protected with a breathing mask. I didn't want this cocktail to end up in my eyes or lungs. The light duty spray suit purchased from Walmart protected the rest of my body.

I then went to the toilets and spread this powder over all of the toilet seats and toilet paper. The toilet paper was unrolled and sprayed with the fine powder, then carefully re-rolled. Each seat in the accounting hall got the same treatment. Each keyboard and mouse was also coated. The powder was so fine, that it was barely noticeable. That was task one.

Task two involved Rochelle's cubicle. And the snake's. I placed the picture ad of a local escort agency in Alan's top drawer under some papers. On it was written a message about coming again for the 'special'. In Rochelle's top drawer was a message, hand-written, asking her to check Alan's top drawer. Many of the other women's drawers had similar pieces of paper, informing them of the latest gossip about Alan and his discreet visits to an escort agency.

With a knowing nod to Raul, I left the building in a state of satisfaction. My anger, which was bubbling beneath my skin for so many weeks, seemed to have subsided somewhat. I smiled for the first time in many months.

That first beer in the bar went down very well. My two informant buddies, from so long ago were there again, involved in some seriously funny conversation, so I went over to join them.

"Hey, it's buddy, I mean Bill, again. We were just talking about the play at SAS. Seems all of the accounting pool came down with some very serious skin infections. Some of these even went far below, if you know what I mean." He laughed and winked at me. "Apparently there were some very angry accusations aimed at spouses and boyfriends and girlfriends. I also hear that the local STD clinic was very, very busy for weeks."

"That's weird," I smiled. "What's the word on your two friends, Rachel and Al, something?"

"You mean Rochelle and Alan. Aw, They're history. Apparently, he was visiting escorts, so Rochelle divorced his ass, or is in the process of it anyway. They couldn't keep the massive arguments at home. It got so bad, that Alan actually hit Rochelle while they were having one of their fights right in the accounting hall. The boss sacked him on the spot, saying that he couldn't abide by any man who hit a woman. He tried to get another job, but had to leave town to do so. No one knows where he is, but it's said that every time he applies for a job with a firm, a file mysteriously appears on the HR person's desk setting out some financial discrepancies and detailing his history with married female staff. Rochelle is a very lonely woman apparently. Her friends have dropped her. She now lives on anti-depressants and has really let herself go. She has gained weight and looks sickly most of the time. The whole company is not a very happy place right now. Mass infections, accusations of infidelity flying around, and to top it all off, the company has lost a huge chunk of cash. Apparently, the guy who Rochelle used to be married to when she decided to cheat, has now left the company taking with him the vast majority of his clients. Go figure. I guess he won out after all, hey."

"Yeah. Go figure," I replied. This time the beer tasted so sweet as I finished it and left.