A Breakroom Carol

It was no surprise that Roger couldn’t sleep. What he had seen that night would give anyone insomnia. The ghost of a former coworker had appeared in chains and warned Roger that he was headed for a similar fate in the afterlife unless he changed his ways. 

“You will be haunted tonight by three spirits,” the ghost had said, “beginning at midnight and once an hour thereafter.” 

“Is there any other way!?” Roger had cried in terror, but the ghost had told him this was his only option to save himself. So Roger lay awake, staring at the alarm clock on his bedside table, which now read one minute to midnight. His heart rate had been increasing steadily as the hour approached. When the fateful time arrived, he pulled the blanket over his head and shook with anticipation. 

When he didn’t hear anything for at least thirty seconds, he cautiously peered out from under the covers. His bedroom was completely empty. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit silly. Of course ghosts aren’t real, he thought, the one from earlier was probably a hallucination. Or maybe I dozed off without realizing it and had a nightmare. His confidence grew with each passing minute. 

When his alarm clock read five past midnight, he figured he was safe and resolved to try to get some sleep. Just as he was about to roll over, the room was filled with an otherworldly glow. Roger was paralyzed with fear as an apparition glided through his bedroom door. The ghost was tall, nearly the height of the bedroom ceiling, and had unnaturally long arms and legs. It wore pearlescent robes, billowing as if blown by some unearthly breeze. The expression on its face somehow conveyed every human emotion simultaneously and Roger’s mind reeled as he struggled to interpret what he was seeing. 

“ROGER!” the ghost bellowed. Its voice was a preternatural chord, combining a broad spectrum of high and low pitches. When it received no answer, it bellowed again. “ROGER!”

“I…I…” Roger stammered, unsure how to respond. “You’re late,” he said finally. 

The ghost swelled in size, nearly filling Roger’s entire field of view. “LATE!? I AM EXACTLY ON TIME!” 

Roger glanced sideways. “It’s six after. When you came through the door it was probably at least five after.”

The ghost glanced at the alarm clock and swelled to an even larger size. “YOUR CLOCK IS SLOW! MAYBE IT’S TIME TO RESET IT?”

Roger shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I use this to wake up every day and I’ve never been late.”

The ghost shrank slightly in size, looking a little less sure. After pondering for a moment, it shook its head. “No. Your clock is wrong, I’m sure of it. I floated through your kitchen on the way in. The clocks on the coffee maker, stove, and oven all showed different times. You’re a little sloppy with the clock setting.”

Roger shrugged apologetically. “I guess I don’t really think about it unless the power goes out. Then I have to go around later and reset everything.”

“ Just check your phone,” offered the ghost, “The phone clock is always right if you have signal.” 

“I don’t keep my phone in the bedroom,” countered Roger, “ I’m trying to do this thing where I avoid screens before bedtime. I’ve only been doing it a week, but I already think I’ve been sleeping a little bit better.” 

“Smart,” said the ghost. “I’ve been meaning to start doing something like that. My dad sent me an article the other day that said-” It paused and shook its head as if to clear it. “Sorry. Let's just move on to the business at hand. I’ve got like seven other guys I need to haunt tonight. Let’s start over. ROGER!” 

“What have you come to teach me, spirit?” asked Roger.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!” declared the ghost. “I had a bit more of a speech planned, but we wasted a lot of time with that clock discussion, so just grab my hand.” 

The ghost extended a spectral hand and Roger cautiously stood and took hold of it. In an instant the bedroom had dissolved from view and was replaced by a sparsely furnished room harshly lit by fluorescent lights.

“I know this place!” exclaimed Roger. “It’s my office breakroom!”

“It is indeed,” affirmed the ghost. “One year prior to today.”

“That’s Dave and Jessica from accounting!” Roger exclaimed, as two of his coworkers filed into the room and retrieved their lunches from the staff refrigerator. 

“Don’t worry, they can’t see you,” said the ghost. “Just watch and take heed. What you see here may save your mortal soul.”

Roger watched as Dave took a seat at the table and wrinkled his nose. 

“Do you smell that?” he asked. “Did someone reheat fish in the microwave again?”

Jessica nodded as she took a seat across from Dave. “Of course I smell it, it’s overpowering. It was probably Roger. He keeps reheating salmon in the microwave. He got a diet plan off the Internet and he told me it's the same diet plan The Rock uses.”

“I’m trying to get swole,” whispered Roger. The ghost shushed him.

“Man, I really like Roger a lot,” said Dave, “but that smell is POTENT. Has anyone said anything to him?” 

Jessica shrugged. “Someone left a passive aggressive note on the microwave, but he didn’t seem phased by it.” 

Suddenly Roger found himself back in his bedroom. He blinked, confused. “Was that it?” he asked.

The ghost nodded. “Yes. That is all I came here to show you.” He paused. “Actually, maybe there was more. I always write stuff in the notes app before these things so I don’t forget anything.” He retrieved a phone from his robes and tapped on it with his spectral fingers. “I guess that was it,” he said finally. “My notes app just says ‘Roger = microwave salmon.’” He showed the screen to Roger.

“So, I’m microwaving fish in the breakroom, and somehow that has imperiled my mortal soul?” asked Roger, disbelieving.

The ghost shrugged. “Well, I mean, yeah. You can’t reheat fish in a shared microwave. Everyone knows that. Maybe you could try some tuna salad? You can eat that cold.” 

Roger shook his head. “Tuna is not as rich in omega-3 fatty acids as salmon.”

“Well, just so you know, everytime you microwave fish in a shared microwave you forge another link in the chain you have to wear in the afterlife. I must go now, but I wish you well on your remaining journey. May the other ghosts teach you as well as I have.” The ghost faded away into nothingness. 

Roger stood for a moment in stunned silence. He couldn’t help but wonder what the other ghosts had in store for him. A glance at the clock told him he only had about five minutes until the next one showed up. Or, I guess probably ten minutes, he thought. That clock is apparently a little sl-

His thought was interrupted by a basketball-sized, featureless orb of light smashing through his bedroom window. It made a thwock sound as it smacked the opposite wall and rebounded several feet. 

“Sorry about that, I misjudged the speed,” said the orb, moving so that it was hovering eye-level in front of Roger. It was now flat on the side that had made impact with the wall.

“Are you okay?” asked Roger.

“Yes, yes, of course. Happens all the time. I trust you’ve already met my friend, Ghost of Christmas Past?”

Roger nodded. “I have, but I can’t say I learned much. It was a pretty quick lesson.” 

The orb bobbed up and down as if nodding. “Well, I find that the lessons of the past, while sometimes meaningful, don’t hold a candle to what we can learn in the here and now. I am The Ghost of Christmas Present! How could any lesson be more timely than mine? One can only exist in the present, am I right? Ha ha ha!” The orb’s laugh sounded somewhat like a dodgeball rolling down a flight of stairs. 

Roger smiled nervously. “I guess.” 

“Then let us make haste!” cried the orb. “Take hold of me and we shall whisk away to a far off place and see it as it is at this very moment.”

Roger cautiously placed his hands on either side of the orb. There was a bright flash that rendered him momentarily blind. When the flash subsided and his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was back in the breakroom at work.

“Take heed, Roger! There is a lesson for you here.” cried the orb.

“The other ghost already took me here,” complained Roger.

“The lessons of the breakroom are many, my son. Watch and learn.”

Roger watched as Daryl from sales came into the breakroom and retrieved a tupperware container from the refrigerator. 

“Oh man, I heard Daryl had to work late today. Kind of a bummer on Christmas Eve,” said Roger, shaking his head sadly. “I guess that’s the lesson, right? I should have volunteered to take his place. He has a family. He should be with them tonight.” 

“That’s not the lesson, keep watching,” replied the orb. 

The two of them watched as Daryl microwaved the tupperware container and then took a seat at the table. He idly scrolled on his phone as he took the first bite of his leftover lasagna.

“What the hell!?” exclaimed Daryl. “This lasagna tastes vaguely of fish! Did Roger microwave fish again!?” 

There was another blinding flash and Roger found himself back in his bedroom.

“Well, there you have it,” said the orb. “Powerful stuff. Hope you learned a lot.” 

“I can’t believe this!” said Roger. “The first ghost taught me the same lesson! Are all of these lessons about me microwaving fish!?”

The orb looked offended. “It’s an important lesson!”

“Can we forgo the third lesson if I just promise not to do it again?” pleaded Roger.

The orb oscillated side to side. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know what Christmas Future has planned for you. Could be a completely different lesson.” 

“No, it was the fish thing,” said a grim reaper-like specter as he emerged from Roger’s en suite bathroom. “Sorry, I got here early. I couldn’t tell what time it was because this guy’s clocks are all over the place.” He turned to the orb. “Present, if you’re cool with it, I’m fine letting this guy sit out the third lesson. I think he gets it.” 

The orb drifted up to Roger’s eye line. “Hmmm…Roger, are you sure you don’t want to see the effects of you microwaving fish, one year in the future?” 

Roger pondered for a moment. “I guess it could be cool to see if all this salmon finally made me swole.”

The Ghost of Christmas Future laughed and it sounded like rocks in a garbage disposal. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but no. You know, The Rock doesn’t just eat fish. He lifts weights as well. You can’t get swole just from eating fish.”

Roger frowned and scratched his chin. “Well if it’s that much work it doesn’t really seem worth it to me. You guys win. I’ll stop microwaving fish.” 

“Huzzah!” shouted The Ghost of Christmas Future. “Another soul saved!” He went to high five the orb and looked a little embarrassed when he remembered the orb had no arms. He high fived Roger instead. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” said the orb, “We’ll leave you to it. By the by, though we are specters, I did break your window for real. You’ll have to get that fixed. Sorry about that.” 

Without another word the two apparitions vanished from Roger’s sight. He stood for a moment in astonished silence before crawling back into bed. He hoped he would remember the lessons of tonight when he awoke the next morning.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the first rays of dawn light reached his face, Roger awoke and stretched. Suddenly, he remembered his three ghostly visitors and leapt from the bed. Had it all been a dream? No! The window was still broken. He ran over to it and peered out to the street below. A child was walking on the sidewalk beneath Roger’s apartment.

“You there! Boy! What day is it?” called Roger.

“Why, it’s Christmas Day, sir,” replied the boy. 

“Yes!” cried Roger. “I haven’t missed it! The spirits have managed it all in one night!”

“Are you okay, sir?” asked the boy, genuinely concerned.

“Never better!” responded Roger with a hearty chuckle. “Could you do me the biggest of favors and go to the shops to buy me some work appropriate food? Some cup o’ noodles, perhaps?” 

“I literally just told you it’s Christmas. The shops are closed,” said the boy.

“Oh, of course. My bad. Well, thanks anyway!” replied Roger.

Roger had no further interactions with spirits, but from that day forward it was always said of him that he knew breakroom etiquette as well as any man alive. May that truly be said of us all!

THE END