Telepathetic

Fuckin jerk. I could have sworn he said it under his breath as I passed by. What’s with all this hostility? I never did anything wrong to him.
Regardless, I continued my walk to work. It was Wednesday; the clear blue sky presented a beautiful scenario, making the city look much cleaner than it actually was.

Recently I’ve developed a skill that I dare not mention to those around me because I’d rather not be committed. I have become telepathic; I can read the minds of those around me within a certain range. No matter where I am or who I am around voices start brewing in my head, I can hear everything a person is thinking immediately after they come into range. Their thoughts have the person’s voice, but with a sort of echo to it. For some unknown reason almost everyone has something negative to think, and for further unknown reasons, people direct most of these negative feelings towards me. I supposed they are courteous enough to keep it to themselves verbally, but the fact that they think negative thoughts at all, has been a question lingering in my mind since I acquired this power.

My name is Tom Leary and I work for a telemarketing company that does surveys for the public to find out any information that can be presented as a percentage. We have three hundred or so people working almost around the clock constantly dialing different numbers, constantly asking different questions for a myriad of different situations. Each person is assigned a specific survey each week, the more people we can complete surveys on the better. These questions are generally oriented towards advertising; we're basically just getting people's opinions in order to gauge how effective certain advertiser's messages are. This job is normally very simple, but at the same time very tiresome, plus the fact that every so often I can read the minds of the customers and get their honest opinions.So here’s how my day went.

I arrived a few minutes late, passing by one of my co-workers; I smiled and nodded.
“Morning Luke.” I said, trying to sound somewhat cheerful
“Morning.” He replied. You fucking slack bag. If only he had said it out loud, I would have popped him one.
The office was full of life for a Wednesday morning, people already had their first customers and were chatting away happily, asking what brand name shoes they prefer, or types of clothing they buy, and so on.
Trying to maintain a good attitude is hard, especially with the notion that everyone hates you. I got to my cubicle and sat down; the paper with my survey of the week was stuck onto a board. Very few checkmarks appeared on my sheet, more hang ups than anything. You would figure after a total of sixteen hours on this survey I would have had more. This week’s survey consisted of twenty brief questions about cell phones, such as what company, reception problems, pricing and all sorts of crap that can be turned into a statistic.

As the day progressed the checkmarks on my sheet maintained the same number, all I get were four “fuck offs”, six “not interested”, ten hang ups and one person even threatened to sue if he was ever bothered again. All in all, it had been an unsuccessful day and I hadn’t even had lunch yet.
Lunch was broken down into four parts of the day. Depending on where you sat in the office determined what part or 'block' as the boss promptly put it, you were in. He also claimed this would increase productivity and numbers would be dialed consistently throughout the entire work day. I was in the second block, starting at noon and lasting for half an hour.

For the past few weeks lunch had become the most demoralizing activity of the day. From the second I walked into the lunchroom, to the second I left, I would be mentally assaulted by everyone.
Jesus, here he comes again, I hope to Hell that rat bastard doesn’t sit beside me. Frank Fernando thought as I passed by.

What’s that smell? Oh wait, Leary’s here. God I hate him. Sue Carroll thought.
Please, please, please don’t sit here Leary, I can’t stand you. Another of my co-workers prayed to himself. No matter where I was, I was offending someone.
Sitting down to my left was an empty seat, to my right was John Campbell, he had worked in this office for years.
Goddamnit!! His mind screamed. He continued to eat his lunch and avoid eye contact.
I ate quickly, I hated being in there, it almost drove me mad. Slipping outside for a smoke was one of the very few things that kept me together throughout the day. Very few people in the office smoked, and luckily I was the only one in my block.

After the smoke I went to back to the office and tried to finish my quota which was looking once again unsuccessful. I really didn't feel like having to talk to more random people every ten minutes or so, it had started to seem really pointless.
Five o’clock rolled around and I had only gotten one successful survey completed. Making sure no one was coming, I checked off three more surveys making the day seem a little less pathetic. Hanging the survey sheet on the corkboard in from of my desk, I began to collect my things and get ready to leave.

“Leary!? Where the fuck are ya?” A voice rang throughout the office. Standing up and raising my hand, I had already assumed it was my boss, now it was clear. I could see his fat little bald head from my cubicle, he was short, and all it looked like was a beige helmet like a midget desert commando on a bounty hunt for me. I think I’ve been in the wrong business for too damn long.
After the boss’s assistant recognized me, he pointed in my direction and probably told him what direction to follow. It took about a minute for him to locate my cubicle.

“Listen Leary, I’ve heard some complaints about you and I’m not too goddamn happy about it.” You stupid little cunt. I especially hated hearing the after thoughts of his statements; he always went no holds barred.
“Sorry sir, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play ignorant with me you halfwit! I’ll have you’re ass on a fucking platter by dinner tomorrow if you don’t stop playing ignorant. God you’re an ignorant bastard!” Ignorant, I like that word, I think I’ll use it more often. I had to laugh, just a little.
“You think this is funny Leary?!” He screamed.
“I’m sorry sir,” acting as serious as possible, “but I still have no idea what I have done to get you so angry. If you could just calm down and tell me what I’ve done, I would have no problems justifying it.”

“Did you just tell me, you’re fucking employer, to calm down? Well, I’ve got news for you you goddamn ignorant bastard, this is calm! You haven’t even seen me slightly pissed off! And if I was you," pausing to poke his chubby old finger into my shoulder. "I wouldn’t push my luck in a situation like this, you’re already in enough goddamn trouble as is, and now you go ahead and tell me, you’re goddamn employer for Crissake, what to do?” Pausing for a second, I could see his face getting redder and redder. “Well, that’s it Leary! You’re outta here! Pack up all yer shit right the fuck right now!!” He began stammering. I guess all of the bullshit was getting stuck in his throat.

The boss was a prick by nature and I’d been able to take his crap in the past, but when he fired me something went wrong in my head and I felt things unfamiliar to what I’ve ever experienced before. It was like this burning rage that crept through my body. I had worked there for three years, almost never been late, consistently had my weekly quota filled, except for the past few weeks, I was in a bit of a slump, but other than that, I had been pretty much a model worker. I began to consider what reason he had for firing me, I could assume it was random bullshit produced by the co-workers that hated me, naturally the list was that of the whole friggin office.

After the boss left, I sat down for a second, collecting my thoughts and meager possessions, a stapler, some loose paper, a Zellers flyer that I’d had in a drawer. It was there when I got the cubicle; I’d keep it as a memento.
A thought occurred to me, I can find out who accused me of whatever it was that got me fired with my power. All I had to do was sit beside someone and listen in. I figured I could come in tomorrow at lunch and just say I was collecting a few things and grabbing a bite to eat. By simply moving around the cafeteria, I’ll discover who set me up. And then I’d gut them like a fish right there on the table.