A strange bird July 20, 2012

  

The popular salesman elsewhere on the third floor of the office called her “a strange bird,” though he was clearly impressed with her ability to sing.

She was his third choice of a staff largely made up of pretty women, an evaluation given me without prompting, during my weekly visit to the main office.

We had stepped back from the edge of nuclear war, although my whole time there I was on edge, made even more manic when the male owner called my extension and I saw his name and extension of the phone ID – thinking he had thought things over or had been convinced to and had decided to fire me after all.

I finally called him back; it turned out to be routine, his concern with the local hospital and a story he wanted me to follow up on, apparently one of our staff had had a heart attack, had been rushed to the hospital and saved, and he wanted me to do something to glorify our biggest advertiser.

Yet, I could not help getting the feeling the call was more than just about that and pondered it for a long while after I had hung up.

The tension is so thick, I could choke on it, and I don’t know how long it can go on like this, coming and going, day in and day out, everybody pretending like there is nothing wrong, when we all know there is.

The owner had said nothing about her, not even a hint, and yet the tone of voice was distant, as if he was holding something back.

I learned later he had given her special projects as an excuse for a raise (this coming from the usual ever reliable gossips on the first floor, who spouted information like this unasked for frequently, liking the idea they knew something nobody else did, and could not resist spilling their guts.)

Perhaps the owner has something to hide after all, and my confession about what happened and the accusations against me made him nervous – after all, what can happen to one of us, can happen to us all. But he’s a closed a book as the gossips are open. Still, I wonder how much more he knows than what I told him, and has he spoke to her about it (as he should have since it is really more than the personal issue, he and his partner play it off to be) to get her side.

Unlike our former temporary boss (and his heart of gold), the owner doesn’t strike me as the sympatric type who would offer her comfort in her hour of need, leaving the question open as to what exactly does he offer her.

 

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