September 24, 1987 – New York, NY – Despite a chipper Midwestern work ethic, a business degree from Mid Plains Community College and an unrealistic measure of self value, Grant Mosher, 22, is disappointed to report that he has yet to ascend to a lucrative position at the top of the corporate ladder in the high-profile Manhattan financial company where he presently holds a job cleaning toilets from 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. Mondays through Fridays and occasional Saturdays.
“It doesn’t make any sense that I haven’t yet saved this company from a hostile takeover,” said Mosher, as he surveyed the graphs, charts and stick figure drawings strewn about an otherwise vacant office once occupied by a high-level accountant who was fired two weeks ago because of corporate cutbacks.
“I’ve been slaving away in this office for two – almost three – days and nothing,” he said, indicating the meaningless paperwork he sneaks into the office to scribble on for a few minutes every night when the night guard tucks the newspaper under his arm and heads to the restroom down the hall. Mosher went on to explain that most of the “hard-crunched data and analysis contained therein” is based on his introduction to business strategy class and a viewing of the 1983 Eddie Murphy comedy Trading Places. “I started as a janitor way back on September 2. I think I’ve paid my dues.”
“At this rate, I should have already had sex with the boss’s wife, tricked the board of directors into believing I was a newly hired executive that no one had heard anything about and developed a murky ten-point plan to save our company from financial ruin. At the very least, I should have been making inroads with that blond accountant. You know; the one with the androgynous haircut and the boxy jackets? But the closest I’ve gotten to any tail around here is changing the tampon boxes in the ladies’ room,” Mosher paused to squint at a page of sheet music. “Sorry. That was gross. I’m just so frustrated. I wrote this song about my life and even finagled Night Ranger into doing the demo. The song has very specific lyrics that describe the overall narrative I’m aiming for here as well as my career aspirations; none of which include staying in that shithole apartment on Staten Island any longer than one, two weeks tops.”
“Mosher? Is that the little shithead who keeps filling the soap dispensers with floor wax in the men’s room on the southeast corner of the 24th floor? I don’t even think he can read,” said Floyd Hemmel, 58, assistant building maintenance manager and Mosher’s direct supervisor. “He’s always ‘sneaking’ around and dressing in a suit and tie for part of his shift, like I can’t see the ***ing thing under his T-shirt and jeans. Maybe it’s some kind of weird Midwestern sexual kink or something, I don’t know. As long as he cleans the used condoms outta the stairwells every night, I could give a rat’s ass.”
“My friend, Brantley (Foster), from summer camp, moved to New York around the same time as me, and he’s already a billionaire and he got to nail his hot aunt, who also owns the company that he was working for and now kinda owns,” Mosher shook his head. “When I made a move on my Aunt Hilda, she just got this weird look on her face, told me to get out of her apartment and not to contact her again.”
At last reporting, Mosher said playing Yello’s “Oh Yeah” on a loop during otherwise ordinary circumstances has failed to net him either oral sex from a powerful older woman or the years of hard-earned real world experience that would be necessary to actually pull any of this shit off.
– This ambiguous Rental Rehab review of Michael Fox’s hit film The Secret of My Succe$s (1987)—an entertaining but certifiably ’80s exercise– was written by Tricia.