Written by Zabeth Russell
Photo: © Depositphotos.com/monkeybusiness
I knew this was a good idea.
You probably thought I was calling you all in here to announce layoffs. Only you figured I’d call it “restructuring” because that’s the kind of spineless, mewling upper-management-teat-sucker in a cheap suit that I am. Look me in the eye, Sandra – you thought that, didn’t you?
No need to answer. Actually, keep staring at your hand. I’ll look at it too. A hand starts to look strange, if you look at it long enough. Isn’t it crazy to think that we’re all made of the same stuff, but we look so different? Right now I’m wondering where you end and I begin. Or maybe, maybe there’s no end or beginning to any of us.
Okay, yes, it’s true that our third-quarter profits are way down. Marco’s so goddamn dispirited about it that he couldn’t even bring himself to completely color in the white-board graph. You had one job, Marco! Ha, ha, just kidding, Marco. I know your position is multifaceted, especially after the restructuring we experienced last October. And I appreciate you.
Layoff. I meant layoff.
It’s understandable that you’d feel we’re on a sinking ship. Actually, okay, idea time – while we’ve all got our hands up here, just gently existing together, erasing boundaries, let’s sway back and forth – no, don’t remove your hand, Jennifer. Keep it here – and we sway. Swaaaaay. Sway. Like we’re on the ocean. Just a bunch of intrepid travelers, weathering the seas together. See, when you’re a crew member on a ship – I was a rower in college, even though I don’t look it now – when you’re a crew member it’s all for one and one for all. Like, um, like the Three Musketeers. Yes, I understand I’m mixing analogies, but still, Peter. We stay on the ship because we believe. We believe in each other and what we can create together.
The Three Musketeers dressed like pirates, though, right? Am I right about that?
Quick fact: kids routinely bring this stuff to music festivals. What must that be like? Now, I’m no stranger to drugs. I once partook of a passed doobie at a Santana concert. Didn’t even matter to me at the moment whose lips it had touched, nor what the rest of its journey would be like, down the row of box seats. God bless, little doobie. What year was that?
Believe it or not, Liz found this in our son Jake’s room. Tucked into a goddamn sock. We confiscated it and we were at a loss. What do you do, flush it down the toilet and give a fish an ecstatic death? I thought about taking it with Liz on our anniversary, but she doesn’t like anything that makes her crave human contact.
Guess what. Parenting is tough. It’s not like I get to spend that much time with him. Jake barely knows my damn name. Not with these seventy-hour work weeks. I keep up with him through Instagram. Next year he’s off to Duke. The cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon…
Sorry. That’s why I put it into the coffee filter along with the grounds this morning. I did a little Googling and found out the effects and exactly how long it would take to kick in. Side note: it’s hard to separate the search results for a drug named Molly from results about people who are named Molly.
Yes, I understand that technically I should have asked permission, but then what? All of you would have treated me like a crazy person. Probably reported me to HR. And look at us now. We are many, and yet we are one. Everyone talks about thinking “outside the box” all the time, but what happens when Daddy just turns the box over and dumps you all out?
You’re right, Sandra. I should not have referred to myself as “daddy.” It was a metaphor, but a ham-fisted one. I sincerely apologize and I hope I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable.
Are you having fun? I’m having a nice time. Bit of dry mouth. Not sure I should be grinding my jaw this hard.
At this point I’m ready to hear any ideas you might have – any out of the box strategies – god, I want to say DADDY again, so badly, but you pointed out to me it was inappropriate. And yet the word keeps bouncing around my brain. Inextricably and forever connected with “out of the box.” DADDY! Funny, right, Peter? No? You were laughing at something you can’t explain to me right now? All right.
Okay, concept time – you’re my best creatives – to get us out of this hole we seem to have dug. Fresh new starts, as it were. We need strategies, we need ideas, we need… apps, we need hot popcorn. Hot popcorn is what I’m calling fresh new ideas, because everyone wants popcorn, even if they say they don’t. Does anyone have microwave popcorn in their desks? No? Okay.
Marco, your pupils are enormous. Frankly, I’m loving it.
Here’s another thing to do: dip your fingers into your water glass and then run them through your hair. Feels good. Cool.
Right now, I’ll tell you what I’m up to. I’m going to walk over to the window, press my face against the glass, and if you have an idea, you need to come and whisper it in my ear. I’ll just be right over there. Waiting.
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Zabeth Russell is an actress and improviser living in Los Angeles.