When the boss is a football fan

(Baonghean)That's strange! It's long past closing time, yet all the offices are closed. The security guard just said the boss has already driven his car in.

Hearing a commotion on the left side of the upstairs staircase, I hurried up, signature request form in hand.

The boss's office was locked. Everyone was in the meeting room. The boss wouldn't be presiding for a while, so I decided to wait outside on the porch.

Voices echoed from the slightly ajar door, a chaotic jumble like a marketplace.

After listening carefully for a while, I realized it wasn't a meeting at all; they were watching a broadcast of the football final between Vietnam and Indonesia.

Wow! Wow! I've been so busy these past few days dealing with paperwork for my nephew's school enrollment that I almost forgot about this historic match.

I'm just as much of a football fan as these civil servants. I'm taking the opportunity to peek in and see if the boss is here.

I gently pushed the door open and entered the room. No one paid any attention to the stranger.

Suddenly, a loud scream rang out:

- Penanti! It's Penanti!

- Clearly, he kicked him in the head with both feet. The punishment is justified! What more is there to argue about? - I couldn't resist chiming in.

The penalty kick was missed. Everyone fell silent, feeling disappointed for their team.

I was watching and glancing around. The big, burly man sitting in the front row seemed to be the boss.

He was the loudest, clapping boisterously and commenting incessantly. Every now and then, a female employee would quietly offer him a bottle of mineral water.

I cautiously approached and sat near my boss, intending to wait for an opportunity to present the application and ask for his signature.

At that moment, the boss was clapping loudly and singing: "Don't let them escape... Once they're in, there's no way out." The whole room joined in singing along...

The match is drawing to a close.

Suddenly, there was a hoarse scream:

- We're in! We're in!

We won!

I forgot I was the one getting the signature, patted my boss on the shoulder and shouted, "Bravo, number 10 striker!"

The boss, without paying attention, jumped up and started giving orders in a commanding tone:

There are 3 minutes of added time left. Be careful!

Okay! Okay! Just lie around on the ground wasting time.

Time is precious these days, every second counts.

"That's right! That's right!" I chimed in. "At the World Cup, they even collapsed on the pitch like they were on the verge of death."

My boss turned to me, looking at me with the eyes of a comrade:

- You are... you are?

- Excuse me, sir, I've come here to ask for your autograph.

"Wait a minute," the boss said, glancing at his watch which showed 10 o'clock.

The match is over. We won 1-0.

Unexpectedly, my boss hugged me tightly like a player hugging their coach after a victory, shouting at the top of his lungs.

- Vietnam is the champion! Vietnam is the champion!

It took another half hour before the officials returned to their offices, looking like victors!

Quynh Tho