Flash Fiction
"After the Rain"
Painting by Judith A. Lawrence
THE GAME
by Joe Cappello
“We’re going to play a game.”
The seminar leader removed his pinstriped suit jacket and placed it over a chair, his white shirt gleaming in the bright lights of the conference room.
“One that will help you all be better managers, better people, more successful to your company and, most importantly, to yourselves.” He paused, a smile forming from the corners of his lips, his ear lobes twitching in response. He looked at each of the five members of the seminar sitting in front of him. They appeared eager, anxious to hear how the game was to be played. All, except Rose Tatarro. She glanced back in time to hear someone locking the door.
Enrico Maranno was the swarthy seminar leader from Lexicon Enterprises, a training group specializing in helping managers develop into “the very best they can be.” They were the fastest growing new company of the year in 2010 and that was good enough for VP Esteban. He wanted his people to learn new approaches to the fundamentals…training, motivation, leadership….and this was the kickoff to that grand plan. These five would learn and bring back their skills and apply them to the company’s day-to-day operations. It would engender excellence and Esteban imagined the write-ups he would get in trade magazines for the brilliant program he inspired, complete with first person quotes and a photo of him seated behind his desk with his sleeves rolled up.
Jeannie Mack squirmed a bit in her seat and muttered “Bull shit” under her breath. A game was the last thing she wanted so early in the morning; Wendy Foster checked her nails to see if the manicurist got it right, while Ben Goldsmith ran through e-mails on his I-pod. Rose Tatarro and Billy Sanders sat upright at their desks, as straight as Catholic school kids under careful scrutiny from the head nun, pens in hand ready to take down every word.
Maranno surveyed his group one more time. Rose Tatarro asked why the door was closed when it was suddenly opened to her relief. She shrugged realizing a response was no longer needed.
“Yes. The game.” Maranno put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the window on the left. The sun was like a spotlight on his face and he seemed wiser than anyone in the room.
” What if you didn’t have to stay here for the next 8 hours,” he said.
The group looked at each other, then back at him.
“But we’re here for the seminar,” Rose said. “Our company sent us.”
“I know,” said Maranno, “but why did they send you?”
For Bill sanders, the answer was as simple as the red hair that now matched the color of his skin.
“To improve our management skills,” he said.
“Not that we need it.” Wendy’s voice was almost inaudible, but it was loud enough to get a laugh from her colleagues.
“Oh,” Maranno said. “Care to elaborate, Miss,” he stared at her name tag,” Miss Foster.”
“I meant, we’re already mangers. I got Customer service, Rose has accounting, Bill over there is Sales, Jeannie handles marketing, Ben, shipping. Hell, we’re already managers.”
“Exactly. You already have those skills.”
“Yeah, but—“
“But what, Miss...” looks closely at her name tag…”Tatarro. You have been managers for some time, you must have been doing something right.”
“Damn right,” Wendy’s dark eyes narrowed. “The place couldn’t function without us.”
“I just mean,” Rose paused and looked at everyone. “We have an obligation.”
“Exactly right,” Maranno said swinging a leg over an empty chair and placing his foot on the seat.” You have an obligation to fulfill the requirements of the course. All I’m saying is that you have done so.”
“Which means?”
“It means, Miss Foster, that I can end the game, sign your certificates of completion for the course and you can take the rest of the day off.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ben raised his beefy arm in the air and let his hand fall on his military styled hair cut. “Estaban ever finds out we cut this class and our collective asses would be in a sling.”
“I’m not going to report that you cut the class.” Maranno smiled as he raised his arms like a Sunday preacher welcoming the Lord. “Simply that you fulfilled all of the requirements as stated in our course syllabus.”
The group returned to work the next day and avoided any mention of the seminar or what any of them did when they left at 9:30 the previous morning. They got coffee, nodded greetings while avoiding eye contact, and went quickly back to their desks. It was sometime in the morning when they all got around to seeing the e-mail from Estaban, calling for a meeting that very afternoon to discuss the seminar.
“We’re screwed, “Rose said when the group managed to meet outside in the smoking area at break time. “He’s gonna’ find out we skipped it.”
“He won’t if none of us tells him,” Wendy said.
“That’s the bottom line,” Jeannie said as she took a long drag on her cigarette and pushed aside her blond straggly hair from her face. “He won’t know if we don’t tell him.”
“Look, maybe we should come clean, tell him it wasn’t our fault, it was that Maranno guy.”
“Hold on, Billy,” Ben said holding up his giant paw of a hand. “Maranno might have suggested it, but we went along. We’d be just as guilty.”
Rose was pacing back and forth, fiddling with her glasses her long black curls expanding and contracting like coiled springs. “He’s gonna’ find out. As soon as he asks us questions, he’ll know we didn’t go.”
“Not really,” Wendy said checking her watch. She focused on each member of the group her dark eyes conveying an intensity that made them all pay close attention. “All of you, read over the syllabus again. Use that information to answer Estaban’s questions. If we do that and most importantly," she said looking at Rose, “stick together…it will be fine.”
“So, I’m anxious to hear all about it.” Estaban sat behind his shiny mahogany desk a lone white pad the only object allowed to display itself on the smooth, rich surface. He folded his hands in front of him and sat back, his small frame disappearing into the plush leather of his chair. His voice was naturally shrill, causing a slight ringing in the ear with every syllable. “For example, what did you learn about leadership?”
There was stillness in the room, like what one experienced before an explosion or a shooting or a riot. It seemed to drag on for an unusually long period of time without a word being said. The group sat silently looking down at hands or at Estaban’s walls with the many pieces of artwork he had collected from around the world. It was almost unbearable when Ben suddenly looked at Estaban.
“Good leaders know what their people are thinking,” he said casually. “And they react to that so they can get the best out of them.”
From that point the answers to Estaban’s questions flowed smoothly, the group emboldened by each preceding answer which seemed to impress and even delight the esteemed VP Estaban. He could see the double page spread now with a quote under his photo in large bold red type with each response from the group. After an hour, they were all ready to leave the session, having satisfied their superior’s desire to find out what they learned, when he asked them for the elusive witch’s broom.
“Good, people. Now I want all of you to write a plan for your departments, demonstrating the knowledge you’ve gained. I’d like it e-mailed to me in one week.”
Rose and Billy were standing side by side when they all met at break the next day.
“How the hell are we supposed to write a plan?” Billy said, looking at Rose for support.
“This is getting out of control,” Rose said. “We can’t keep this up.”
“Yes, we can,” Wendy said tapping the ashes off of her cigarette.
“Really? How?” Billy folded his arms and kicked at the gravel beneath his feet.
“It’s simple,” Wendy said. “We write up plans, again, using the syllabus. I mean, we all know enough about this stuff to write something down, stick a schedule on it, present it to Estaban, bam,” she looked away as she took another long drag on her cigarette, “ we’re done.”
“Yeah, but what if Estaban wants more—“
“He’s not gonna’ want anything more. Guaranteed, once he sees the plan, he’ll forget about it.” Wendy crushed her cigarette in the receptacle next to the door. “Well, are we all agreed?”
“No skin off my nose,” Jeannie said as she waved her cigarette in the air the smoke skywriting an illegible script in front of her face.
“I don’t know,” Billy said once again looking at Rose. She was about to speak when Ben cut her off.
“It’s one more step, guys. C’mon, we’ve come this far. After we do this, it’s done.”
Wendy collected everyone’s plans and on Thursday of that week she forwarded them to Estaban as directed. The next day, Friday, when everyone was talking about shore plans and concert stops for the weekend, the group once again was sitting in Estaban’s office in response to a meeting he had called. He was staring stone faced at his computer, scrolling down the screen squinting as he focused his eyes on a certain spot. Rose rubbed her hands which were cold and clammy; Billy stroked his chin and tried to distance himself from the room by staring out of the window at someone crossing the parking lot. Ben cleared his throat; Estaban suddenly looked up.
“Guys,” he smiled. “It’s good.” He sat back in his chair once again. “Really good.” He spent the rest of the meeting talking about how important the elements of their plan was, how it would improve the company’s performance during these difficult times and, of course, how some trade magazine editor would most definitely be interested in writing it up. He thanked everyone for their efforts and wished them all a good weekend. But before they could reach the door, he presented them with yet another witch’s broom.
“I want you to implement your plans in each department,” he said removing a piece of lint that had made its way on to his yellow-gold silk shirt.
“Make it work, then report results to me in 90 days.” He folded his hands on his desk as he looked intently at the group. “I’m telling you now, make this happen and there’ll be a big bonus for each of you.”
“This is getting worse,” Billy said when they met at Monday’s break. “How are we going to show results in 90 days?”
“Really, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Wendy said as she took a cigarette from her wrinkled pack. “90 days is a lifetime for Estaban, he’ll totally forget about it, trust me.”
Jeannie took a bite from a power bar and chewed it on one side of her mouth. “I’m not gonna’ do any of this in my department, I’m too busy; besides, it’s all bull shit, a waste of time.”
“But, you’re all missing the point, Estaban—“
“Wait, Billy, I have an idea,” Rose said. She looked calmer than usual, sharper and more focused.
“We make up the results.”
Jeannie laughed so loud she turned red from embarrassment. Wendy blew smoke from her cigarette and nodded.
“Oh, Rosie, Rosie,” Wendy said. “That’s not the miss-play-it-by-the rules Rosie I know.”
“But we are playing by the rules,” Rose said.
“No, we’re not,” Billie said. “We’re lying, plain and simple.”
“You calling me a liar, Billy?” Rose‘s voice was low and hoarse. “I don’t lie, don’t ever say I lie.”
“Rose—“
“No, Bill, you listen to me.” Rose began to walk around Billy, slowly looking at him intently. “We’ve all done training before, our people have come up with ideas before.”
“Yeah...yeah,” Wendy said.
“I could sure use some bonus money right about now.”
“You got that right, Jeannie.” Wendy looked at Rose. “So what you’re saying is we record what’s gone on in the past.”
“Exactly,” Rose said not taking her eyes off Billy. “Only now, we make it seem like it happened in the last 90 days. And that’s the absolute truth, Bill.” She was now face to face with him.
“Got it?”
“Wow,” Ben said. “I could sure use you in shipping.”
It was hard to say if Estaban ever fell for the plan, but there were rumors from the controller’s office that five hefty bonus checks were cut three months after the meeting in Estaban’s office to review the results. Because of the timing of the remuneration, the five apparently got to keep the money even though the company declared bankruptcy six months later. Estaban was fired and the entire office staff was let go.
Shortly after, Billy was standing in the unemployment line when he saw Ben ahead of him. After the usual pleasantries, Billy and Ben compared notes about the rest of the group.
Jeannie stayed home and took to drinking too much; Wendy went back to school and was working part time at Wal Mart. Billy was living off savings and sending out tons of resumes. Ben had gotten part time work at UPS at nights, back breaking work but it paid the bills. The only one they had lost track of was Rose.
At that moment Rose stood in front of a group in an office building on the other side of town. She wore a tailored business suit, black with pin stripes and a gleaming white blouse, her bare skin accented by a gold necklace that shone like a beacon in the morning sun. She smiled at the group of executives she was about to address in front of her.
“Today, we’re going to play a game.”
Joe Cappello has written plays and short stories about families and the workplace for the past 25 years. His current short piece, “Bridge to an End,” is currently published on the “Fiction at Work” e-zine (http://fictionatwork.com/dss1.aspx). Other fiction works have included “Assault,” Summer 2009 “Blue Collar review,” “The Last Day of my Life,” appearing in the March 30, 2009, online issue of “Fiction at Work” and an Honorable mention in the August/September 2008 online issue of “HumorPress” for his piece entitled “The Red Mark.” He invites you to read more of his work at: www.wordsearchers.org.
This page was last updated: September 18, 2011
