Me and Mark Brotto

Mark works within the SU building. He deals with all the pay stuff for all the staff.

He is really nice, but I think I’m testing his patience.

Last Friday I got an email from Mark reminding me that I need to submit my hours for the payroll before 2 p.m. Monday. Fair enough, I appreciate these emails. They make me smile, it makes me feel somewhat important.

Sure enough Monday roles around and on my drive home it clicks. Maybe it was the garbage bin rolling down the street, or paying the nice old lady at Tim’s, but something clicked. Payroll.

Shit. I’m too far down Trafalgar to swing a massive U-turn, so I just continue on feeling like an idiot.

I was thinking about sending him an email, but email’s are so lame nowadays.

I came in today and knocked on his door. Sills wasn’t in, he was probably being bad ass somewhere on campus. I have an issue with forgetting really important things. I need a receptionist and once Alaina left the journalism program I was out of luck.

This is the second time I’ve caused Mark trouble. The last time he responded with inviting me to a Christmas party, it was really nice of him.

“Hey Mark, I forgot to submit my hours again,” I say to him.

He doesn’t look mad, but he seems a little annoyed. Maybe even slightly annoyed, but still, being nice.

“Did you want to tell me to fuck off or anything? You can you know,” I continue on.

He prints out the sheet for me, smiles, at continues on with his day. We chat about how lame I am for a little bit, but that is it really.

I knock on his door again.

“Sorry Mark.”

I’m apologetic, but he is still being too nice. I hand him my sheet.

I’m sure he wants to hit me by now, but I appreciate it when people have patience and don’t want to injure me. He probably thinks that all I do at the SU is cause him trouble. It’s the Christmas spirit, he’s got it.

It must be.

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