It was just after six in the morning, and Ed had his floor in the office building to himself for the most part. The day started for most at eight, but Ed had a heavier workload than the others.
Ed had checked in and booted up his computer. He decided to use the bathroom before starting his tedious day. That’s when he saw it: the trophy.
The gold-colored trophy belonged to a woman named Anne. Anne was tall and thin, a contrast to Ed with his stocky stature. He passed with a swear under his breath. He had worked there over twenty years, and he had never received one of his own. Anne had maybe five years in the company, and she had a fucking trophy.
This knowledge stewed in Ed’s mind while he pissed. He has no idea what excuse the company used when they handed out the trophy, but he knew why it was given: diversity, that word that had plagued his beloved company for years, putting the period at the end of the good ol’ days. The fact that Anne was awarded for being a woman was a blunt fact that had become trapped in Ed’s thoughts.
Ed would have likely been awarded one of his own, but he was guilty of being born a white man in a country where being one was becoming less and less important by the day. He thought President Trump being in office would change that, but it wasn’t coming quick enough for him.
Ed walked back from the bathroom, watching the trophy as he walked past the row of cubicles. Why should Anne have a trophy for being a woman and he not have one for two decades of loyal service (minus his two bullshit suspensions)?
Fuck it, Ed thought, snatching the trophy and skulking back to his own cubicle with it clutched in both hands, looking around, imagining himself as Gollum, that creature from the Lord of the rings movies.
Ed opened his bottom drawer and tossed the trophy in, his heart beating heavily. He stared at it, lying there, still. The trophy was his now. He may not have earned it, but he deserved it. That bitch Anne was going to have to get another.
This one was his.