The Aggravation Engineer

An anxious Benjamin entered the sophisticated boutique. He was welcomed by soft classical music performed by a four string quartet and the warm glow of crystal chandeliers.

“Good afternoon, sir. May I be of service?” said the concierge.

“Yes, I’m hoping so. That is, if you have an immediate opening,” said Benjamin. “I’ve been feeling so good lately I thought I should come in.”

“Quite right. Let me check. What level of dissatisfaction were you seeking? Mild annoyance? Aggravation? Perhaps you’d like to become irate?” said the concierge.

“Irate would be excellent,” said Benjamin.

“That requires a certain level of specialization,” said the concierge, typing into his computer. “Ah, Mr. Austin is available. He is a very skilled Agitation Engineer.”

“That sounds fine,” said Benjamin.

“Alright then. Please come this way,” said the concierge.

Benjamin was led down a hallway past a series of doors. The concierge opened one and held it for Benjamin. It was a simple grey room furnished with a table and two chairs. Benjamin was seated and the concierge silently left.

A couple of minutes later a man dressed in a suit entered and sat across from Benjamin.

“Good afternoon, I’m Mr. Austin. I understand you’re seeking to become irate.”

“That’s correct,” said Benjamin.

“Before we begin I must ask. Are you a crier?” said Mr. Austin.

“No,” said Benjamin.

“We’ll see about that. Would it bother you if I slandered your mother?”

“I don’t like my mother, so I might wind up agreeing with you,” said Benjamin.

“Your father then?”

“The same.”

“Hmm, are you married?”

“Divorced,” said Benjamin.

“Did she leave you?” said Mr. Austin.

“No. I left her,” said Benjamin.

“Career?” said Mr. Austin.

“I’m a successful editor.”




“I grow rare orchids. I wish you’d get on with it. I’ve another appointment in an hour,” said Mr. Austin.

“Really. Wait here a moment. I need to check on something regarding your case,” said Mr. Austin.

The latch of the door echoed through the bare room. Benjamin waited. He checked his watch. He tapped on the table. He walked around the room. He checked his watch again.

After thirty-five minutes of waiting Benjamin had simmered to a slow boil. He slammed his chair into the table and stormed back to the foyer. He discovered Mr. Austin sipping espresso and chatting with the concierge.

“Still checking on my case?” said Benjamin in a huff.

“Yes. If you’d like to wait I’ll be finished shortly,” said Mr. Austin smugly.

“I don’t think so. I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for this. Stupid waste of time. I came in for a service. I can’t believe I sat there like a fool while you sipped your latte or whatever it is. How dare you. Who do you-” said Benjamin. He stopped suddenly. His face brightened with awareness.

“Well sir?” said the concierge.

Benjamin scowled. “My complements,” he said has he stormed out of the boutique.


About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in aggravation, feelings, fiction, flash fiction, humor, humour, short fiction, short story, story, storypraxis and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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