Welcome to the Working Week


written by Marc Rollins



“You’ve go to do it till you’re through, so you’d better get to it.”

“Now that your picture is in the paper, being rhythmically admired, you can have anyone that you have ever desired.”

“ Get it on, right on.”



Sandra spilled off of the airplane like a torrent of flyaway hairs, and loose leaf paper. It had taken her nearly ten years but she’s finally done it, she’s finally made it to America. She’s filed all of the proper papers and she has a work visa. She’ll start studying for the tests to be a citizen as soon as she gets a job. This is it. This is the rest of Sandra’s life.

Sandra goes through customs and is given the green-light. For an instant though, Sandra thought something may go wrong with her checks; she did a few unsavory things to get to where she is.

Sandra moved away from Russia because her brother had gotten involved with the mafia out there, and in turn Sandra became involved. Sandra only wanted to meet a nice man and have a good family, and that can’t be done with the Russian mob after you.

“So your family’s had to kill to survive huh?” Dimitri had asked her a few weeks before she left. “If they knew how I felt they’d bury me alive.” Sandra had told him. Dimitri knew she was leaving, but he was the only one. Not even Sandra’s brother knew. If there was one person Sandra could trust it was Dimitri. Her brother and Dimitri have been friends for a long time, and like most people Dimitri found Sandra terribly attractive.

Sandra was the jewel of her family. She had long, silky, blonde hair and beautiful skin. Her hair was slightly wavy and laid perfectly on either side of her smooth, high cheek boned face. Her body was perfect with medium sized breasts, a small waist and a perfectly round ass.

Sandra left her brother a lengthy letter the morning she had left. She told him why she was leaving, and why should couldn’t tell him sooner. He took it hard though; he and Sandra always looked out for each other. Now she has deserted him. Sandra never finds out, but her brother drinks himself into an early grave because of her.

Sandra left everything she ever had for just a chance in America.

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Sandra called a taxi and rode to the hotel she was staying at. The scenery in the city was beautiful; it was autumn and overcast. It had finished raining and there were puddles everywhere, reflecting to overly bright clouds. Red, orange, and a few green leaves swirled in the streets, dancing like they were putting on a show.

It was all so beautiful. Especially Sandra

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The next day Sandra went to the factory she was supposed to be working at. She got in and had a word with the foreman; a short, fat man with wispy hair and a penchant for thick glasses lenses, who told her that her contract was canceled and she was replaced. He said he was sorry, but Sandra knew he wasn’t. She called him a cock-sucker and left.

On the walk back to her hotel she stopped at a cafe and bought a coffee, which she drank sulkily. After feeling bad for herself for about fifteen minutes someone who was sitting at a table near hers walked up and said “Having a bad day?”

Sandra looked up and saw a haggard looking business man. Never the less, he had a gentle look on his face. “You could say that.” she told him, and her Russian accent caught him off guard. “Did you just move here?” he asked, and she told him yes. “What’s the problem?” He asked her next, so she told him “I had a job lined up, but it’s fallen through.”

The man scratched his head and said “Why not just go find a different one?”
“There aren’t many things I’m good at.” she told him.
“You can learn, there are jobs that teach as you go.”
“Like what kinds’a of jobs?” Sandra batted her eyelashes.
“Well, you could be a receptionist, or a bank teller or something like that.”
“What does a receptionist do?”
“Well they do clerical work, filing papers and taking phone calls at an office building.”
Sandra thought for a moment and then asked “Do you know any place I could get a job?”
“Yea,” the man paused before he said “I can make a few phone calls.”
“Thanks.” Sandra said whenever the man handed her his business card.
“Give me a call tomorrow, I’ll see what I’ve got.”
“Thanks.