I'm just grateful to have a job

I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag and set it on the dock. I put my iced coffee on my desk, grateful that I didn't have a coaster. This office didn't deserve my respect. I typed in my password, hit enter, and watched as the circle of dots spun at varying speeds. 

"Could I see you in my office?" asked Diane, my manager, standing uncomfortably close to me at the cubicle entrance. 

"Of course," I said with the best smile I could produce. 

I sat down opposite her after sliding the glass door of her office suite closed behind me. She definitely wasn't afraid of eye contact, and she also wasn't afraid of looking pissed off. I met her gaze as best I could, already figuring what this was about. I felt my whole body heat up with microwave speed. 

"You weren't working by 8 am," she said. She folded her hands together in front of her on the desk.

I held onto the wooden chair rails like they were keeping me from falling. "I was at my desk by 8 am."

"Yes, but you weren't working."

"My laptop was literally booting up." By this point there was no stopping the pounding in my chest. 

"Watching your laptop boot up isn't the same as working though, is it?"

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't get how Jordan can get here at 8:30 every day and no one cares, but if I arrive even a minute late it's a big deal."

She smiled as if she had me in a checkmate, "Jeff," she said softly, "You only need to worry about yourself and your own performance."

"But you can at least see how this isn't fair, right?"

"What I see is someone more focused on others than himself."

I felt my head actually throbbing and my sweaty left palm made me rub my hand on my pants. I forced myself to say, "I'm sorry Diane. I will get here 5 minutes earlier from now on so my laptop is on from now on by 8 am."

I could tell she was trying not to smile gleefully when she said, "Thank you, Jeff, you might even consider 10 minutes just to be safe."

"Understood," I replied. I got up quickly, not waiting to be dismissed. I went back to my desk and wiped an oven-hot tear from my eye. 

They can't fire me for that, I thought. They can't. I could fight that with HR if they tried. 

Then it dawned on me. She'd enjoyed that.

At least I have a job, though, I thought. In this economy I should be grateful just to have a job. 

I opened Outlook and did my best to focus more on my angry customers than my angry manager.