in court if necessary. Chance that someone will institute litigation, according to the consultants: 0.02 per cent.
I wish I could skip the whole thing, but what choice do I have? So here I am, completely freaked out, half an Ativan in the bag, skulking into the conference room with the rest of my department.
I take a seat next to my supervisor, Lori Chan, a tiny woman with straight black hair who’s been at the company about as long as I have, just in time for the Safety Minute presentation—the SMP.
If these meetings are pointless, the SMP is in a category all its own. Implemented two years ago when, as Jeff would say, the consultants started taking over, every meeting begins with one. A minute-long presentation about safety in the workplace. It’s why all the cars are parked ass inwards in our parking lot. Why you’ll see employee after employee swing their legs out of their car and make sure both feet are planted firmly on the ground before exiting their vehicle. That, and an infinite number of other acts of conformity that are supposed to make us safer, but only make me think of the Two Minutes of Hate in
Nineteen Eighty-Four
every time I’m forced to listen to one of them.
I’m sure I’m being subliminally programmed for something; I’m just not sure what.
As Casey Durham, today’s lucky contestant, rises to tell us about water fountain safety, my mind drifts to the one fun Safety Minute I ever attended.
I don’t know how, but Hector Valenzuela knew he was about to get whacked. But first, he had to deliver his SMP. And boy, did he go out in style. He was supposed to be speaking about how to avoid paper cuts, but instead, he gave a very instructive, and very graphic, presentation on how to skin a moose. Apparently it depends on what you want to use the skin for, and all kinds of other things I never absorbed because I was laughing so hard thirty seconds in that the laughter took over my whole body. I was nearly crying by the time I told Jeff about it …
Oh-oh, is this what my life is going to be like now? Every little thing reminding me of him, and not being able to tell him about any of it?
Where is he, where is he, where is he?
I can feel my throat closing up and my head start to spin even before it happens. Lori stands to thank Casey, then she gets this look on her face, this fake sad look, and says she has something else to add before we begin.
“I’m not sure how many of you knew him, but it’s my unfortunate job to inform you that Jeff Manning, of the other Springfield, died tragically in a car accident this weekend …”
No. No!
“Tish, are you okay?”
I didn’t realize I spoke out loud. Screamed. I think I might’ve screamed out loud.
“I …” I stand on wobbly legs and move as quickly as I can for the door.
The handle’s slippery in my hand, but I have to get out of here. Then I’m out, and the bathroom is only two doors away. I’m in a stall and I’m leaning over the toilet, heaving, choking, until there’s nothing left in my stomach, not even bile.
I knew it
, I can’t stop thinking.
I knew it
.
CHAPTER 6
The Sweet Spot
A couple years ago , I was invited to the company’s annual retreat in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.
I took it as a positive sign about my performance as the new head of the accounting department, but mostly I was happy it was slated to take place at a pricey golf resort, and that spouses were invited along for the ride. Claire and I hadn’t had a trip without Seth in a while, and it was nice that we were being forced to take the time. That we needed it was one more reason to be happy to go.
My parents eagerly agreed to stay with Seth, and I brought my clubs up from the basement, dusting them off and taking practice swings in the living room. I hadn’t played a round in four months, and I was feeling itchy. Not a golfer, Claire was looking forward to getting away from the dull, grey winter we’d been having and seeing a bit of sun.
I don’t usually
I wish I could skip the whole thing, but what choice do I have? So here I am, completely freaked out, half an Ativan in the bag, skulking into the conference room with the rest of my department.
I take a seat next to my supervisor, Lori Chan, a tiny woman with straight black hair who’s been at the company about as long as I have, just in time for the Safety Minute presentation—the SMP.
If these meetings are pointless, the SMP is in a category all its own. Implemented two years ago when, as Jeff would say, the consultants started taking over, every meeting begins with one. A minute-long presentation about safety in the workplace. It’s why all the cars are parked ass inwards in our parking lot. Why you’ll see employee after employee swing their legs out of their car and make sure both feet are planted firmly on the ground before exiting their vehicle. That, and an infinite number of other acts of conformity that are supposed to make us safer, but only make me think of the Two Minutes of Hate in
Nineteen Eighty-Four
every time I’m forced to listen to one of them.
I’m sure I’m being subliminally programmed for something; I’m just not sure what.
As Casey Durham, today’s lucky contestant, rises to tell us about water fountain safety, my mind drifts to the one fun Safety Minute I ever attended.
I don’t know how, but Hector Valenzuela knew he was about to get whacked. But first, he had to deliver his SMP. And boy, did he go out in style. He was supposed to be speaking about how to avoid paper cuts, but instead, he gave a very instructive, and very graphic, presentation on how to skin a moose. Apparently it depends on what you want to use the skin for, and all kinds of other things I never absorbed because I was laughing so hard thirty seconds in that the laughter took over my whole body. I was nearly crying by the time I told Jeff about it …
Oh-oh, is this what my life is going to be like now? Every little thing reminding me of him, and not being able to tell him about any of it?
Where is he, where is he, where is he?
I can feel my throat closing up and my head start to spin even before it happens. Lori stands to thank Casey, then she gets this look on her face, this fake sad look, and says she has something else to add before we begin.
“I’m not sure how many of you knew him, but it’s my unfortunate job to inform you that Jeff Manning, of the other Springfield, died tragically in a car accident this weekend …”
No. No!
“Tish, are you okay?”
I didn’t realize I spoke out loud. Screamed. I think I might’ve screamed out loud.
“I …” I stand on wobbly legs and move as quickly as I can for the door.
The handle’s slippery in my hand, but I have to get out of here. Then I’m out, and the bathroom is only two doors away. I’m in a stall and I’m leaning over the toilet, heaving, choking, until there’s nothing left in my stomach, not even bile.
I knew it
, I can’t stop thinking.
I knew it
.
CHAPTER 6
The Sweet Spot
A couple years ago , I was invited to the company’s annual retreat in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.
I took it as a positive sign about my performance as the new head of the accounting department, but mostly I was happy it was slated to take place at a pricey golf resort, and that spouses were invited along for the ride. Claire and I hadn’t had a trip without Seth in a while, and it was nice that we were being forced to take the time. That we needed it was one more reason to be happy to go.
My parents eagerly agreed to stay with Seth, and I brought my clubs up from the basement, dusting them off and taking practice swings in the living room. I hadn’t played a round in four months, and I was feeling itchy. Not a golfer, Claire was looking forward to getting away from the dull, grey winter we’d been having and seeing a bit of sun.
I don’t usually
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