West End ch 5

One year later, both Ted and Raine have healed from their run-in with Meg and are getting on with their lives.

There are two types of phone calls guaranteed to mess with your brain and anything good in your day up to that point.  One of them is your boss calling first thing in the morning before you’ve had a chance to sit at your desk or take a sip of what the corner coffee stand calls Morning Espresso.  I heard it ringing after exiting the elevator.  How did I know it was my phone?  Because I’m the only sap with no life who actually gets to work before 8:00 a.m.

 

I quickened my pace to get there before it stopped ringing, turned the corner to my cubicle and hit my elbow on the metal frame jerking the coffee cup and sloshing it out of the pin hole in the lid onto my hand.  A subtle reminder that the two words on the lid were correctly stated: contents hot.  I gritted my teeth and answered the phone.

 

“Good morning, wing design, Ted West speaking.” 

 

“Ah, there you are, West!” the voice on the other end chuckled.  “I was beginning to think you had better things to do.”

 

Mr. Ellar, my boss, thinks every word he says holds humor and laughs in spite of himself.  Of course, the political thing to do is laugh with him or he might think I don’t appreciate his office worthy wit.  Hard to do, especially before you’ve had coffee.  But I’m a team player.  I know that because he reminds me often.

 

“Good one, Mr. Ellar.  Always the kidder.  How are you?”

 

“Well, I have a killer crick in my back from my golf swing but it’s nothing that a good massage at noon won’t take care of if you know what I mean.”  His guffaws boomed through the ear piece and I was thankful we weren’t face to face for his usual slap on the back or shoulder punch.

 

I held the phone between my shoulder and ear, politically chortled for him and removed the lid from my coffee.  I took two well deserved sips before sitting in my chair, wondering what else I’d have to endure.  Pete Wilson, a co-worker, walked by and noticed I was on the phone already.  I knew he was listening.  Good thing he’s not on a covert project.  The enemy wouldn’t need radar of any kind.  His curiosity gives him away, for which I’m grateful.  He has no idea his hair stands taller than the cubicle wall and that his hand loves to play with the keys in his pocket.  Let’s hope he never finds out that his body is leaking his tells.  I decided to give him something to listen to.

 

“Yes, I know what you mean.  Good one, Mr. Ellar.  So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call from the early bird this morning?  If you’re wondering about the revised drawings for the stabilizer, sir, I’ll have Pete work overtime so they can be on your desk tomorrow.”  Pete’s hair disappeared from the top of the cubicle wall and I imagined his mouth might have been hanging open.  It made me chuckle.

 

“The early bird?  OH!  The early bird as in we get the worms and the pick of the crop,” Ellar said.  “You’ve my kind of humor, West.  Tomorrow is good for the drawings, way to take one for the team.  But I actually had a different request.  I’d like to celebrate your service with us for the past 5 years.  Meet me for dinner at a place called O’Shea’s on Main Street tonight.  Ever heard of it?”

 

I lowered my voice and turned away from the eavesdropper outside my door.  “O’Shea’s.  Yes, sir, I’ve heard of it.”  The conversation had turned and my stomach sank.   I accidentally set my coffee down on a pencil and it sloshed onto my desk.  As I grabbed a paper towel my thoughts drifted.  What did he mean ‘celebrate my service’?  That’s no request.  Rumor had it that there were lay-offs brewing.  He was going to lay me off.  Great, I knew two spills within the same ten minutes had to be bad luck. 

 

“Shall we say seven o’clock then?  I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

 

Meet?  Who did he want me to meet?  I tried to sound confident as my stomach sank for the second time.  “Yes, that’s fine.  Thank you.  Uh, I’ll be there.”

 

“Be there or be square! Have a good day, West!”  I pulled the phone away from my ear drum so it wouldn’t burst from Mr. Ellar’s forthcoming merriment.  His wife must dance a jig when he leaves every morning.  Thank God he gives everyone a blessing by hanging up abruptly, thus ending the torture.  But the damage had been done.

 

I tossed the paper towel in the trash, finally removed my jacket and sank into my desk chair.  What the hell was that all about?  Is this a lay-off or a sick kind of set-up?  A paper ball came hurling over my cubicle wall.  I had a feeling it was Pete.  Opening it, I read five words that gave me more adrenaline than the coffee that I didn’t get to drink. 

“Read the office bulletin yet?”

 

S**t!  I forgot to sign on.  If we don’t sign on and read it by eight o’clock we get condescending letters from the secretary who has a log that shows our punctuality stapled to her cubicle wall.  I was seven minutes late but I logged on quickly.  I’d walk by later and throw her a wink and a smile to get on her good side.  As soon as I spelled my name and hit ‘enter’ the office bulletin popped up as well as a message from Pete.

 

PETE:  So, it wasn’t enough to be Ellar’s boy this week?  You had to bring me into it as well?

 

TED:  Yeah, I heard the job was open after you couldn’t handle it at the softball game.  I figured why not, how hard could it be to live up to that standard.  Serves you right for eavesdropping.

 

PETE:  =O  Standard!  Seriously, that’s not even remotely funny.  I can handle it.  You know how Ellar is on the field.  He went stark raving mad just because I missed his sign and didn’t bunt. 

 

TED:  And then he benched you.

 

PETE:  I don’t know who you talked to, but he didn’t bench me.  I just felt nauseous is all and sat the rest of the game out.  And what do you mean ‘you heard’?  Was there talk?  People gossiped?

 

TED:  Only the best gossip ever.  Lisa was worried about you and last I heard, Ellar got an anonymous e-mail about how you dissed his golf swing and mocked his laugh while you were benched…oops, I mean sitting the rest of the game out. 

 

I had imagined Pete leaning back in his chair, staring at the screen, speechless, his heart hammering in his ears.  Unsure of whether to worry about Ellar or Lisa.  My guess, it was Lisa.  I took that moment to minimize the conversation so I could actually read the bulletin.

 

            Staff Meeting today 8:30 Conf. Rm. F

Management Meeting today 9:30 Conf. Rm. D

            Stabilizer Team Meeting today 1:00 Conf. Rm. E

 

That figures.  A day filled with meetings when I had a deadline to meet and, now, no time in which to do it.  A wide rubber band bounced off the ceiling and landed on my keyboard.  The suspense must have gotten to him.  I grinned and maximized the screen again.

 

PETE:  Back up a few words.  Lisa was worried?  Are you serious!

 

TED:  At least I know where your priorities lie in your working career.  Don’t flatter yourself.  I was teasing.  Do you want to hear what he wanted or not?

 

PETE:  >=|  Yes.  Just know to expect a lump of coal if I’m your Secret Santa this year.

 

TED:  I have other worries.  I think I’m laid off.

 

PETE:  What!  You’re like second in command next to Ellar when he retires and he’s ancient.  It could be any day.  What did he say that led you to that assumption? 

 

TED:  He wants to celebrate my service for the past 5 years over dinner and he’s bringing someone to meet me.

 

PETE:  Meet you?  Celebrate?  Where?  I’ve never heard of someone getting celebrated.  I never got celebrated.

 

TED:  At O’Shea’s.  I KNOW!  I’ve never heard of that either.  That’s why I’m thinking lay-off.  But who am I going to meet?

 

PETE:  O’Shea’s is 5 star material, bud.  You think he’s taking you to an expensive office paid dinner, beachside, to meet someone, and then give you your walking papers?  Sounds more like he’s setting you up on a date.  Maybe his daughter.  =O 

 

TED:  Good thing you think you’re funny or no one would laugh at your jokes.  I considered a set-up, but his daughter’s got two strikes against her already.  She’s female and breathing.  Hey, have you heard the stock report today?

 

PETE:  He also has a son you know and you’re evading.  No, I haven’t heard any stocks.

 

TED:  Well, I’m going to get the stock report before the 9:30 meeting so I have something to keep me awake while Ellar’s giving us his sick version of a team cheer.

 

PETE:  Hey, doesn’t Raine work at O’Shea’s?  Maybe she can be your spy.

Hold on!  You’re not going to the 9:00?  How will I cope?  Who will I write notes to?

 

TED:  It’s optional for management to go to staff meetings.  I’m sitting this one out to OK the aileron revision before the 9:30.  You’ll just have to pretend that you’re really taking notes this time instead of doing the crossword.  And make sure you sit in back of Lisa.

 

PETE:  Lisa?  Why?  Oh, great, you’re not going to tell me are you? 

 

TED:  Let’s just say you’ll be able to count all her freckles.  Bye Pete.

 

I love having the last word.  Especially since I knew he was trying to picture Lisa’s back already.  I sighed and stretched.  Tense morning so far and it wasn’t even nine a.m.  I told you there were two things guaranteed to mess you’re your head.  And Ellar’s phone call messed with mine the rest of the morning.  

 

                       **

 

Meetings.  Boring, redundant, typical aircraft engineering meetings filled with acronyms, mock-ups of drawings, documents without vowels and way too many semi colons droned on in my head.  And poorly matched ties.  Where do these guys get their ties, anyway?    

 

Honestly, I wasn’t listening.  By the one o’clock meeting I was drained.  People were talking but their words swam in a school of fish all holding unfinished drawings and my lay-off notice like hooks in their mouths.  The other managers and department heads looked just as thrilled as I was to be there.  The air was stifling, Mr. Ellar’s jokes were unbearable and we were all just trying our best to keep our heads from nodding off while he asked us questions to which we had no real answers. 

 

He thinks it’s endearing to call us by our last names and one by one around the table we fell.  Projecting our windfalls but knowing inside we would barely make the cut-off.  I knew my turn was next and I didn’t have good news.  How would I tell him the aileron and stabilizers were slightly off their estimated completion date?  Might have to use Pete again.

 

“West, I’ve heard wing design is cruising right along.  Great to hear!  You’re a team player.  I knew we did right by bringing you up from Cad-Design.”  His voice was different in meetings than on the phone.  He was more of a James Cagney with quick paces to his sentences and emphases on syllables you wouldn’t normally emphasize.  “But you know we’ll be facing lay-offs and overtime if we can’t produce for our customer.  Now, what can you project by month’s end?”  He sat back in his chair, resting his hands across his pot-belly and regarded me as though he had high confidence.

 

Lay-offs.  No pressure, Ted.  The room grew eerily quiet and I felt all eyes piercing, awaiting my reply.  I cleared my throat, tried to look cool and collected, even though my face was hot, and tapped the end of my pen on a piece of paper.  “Well, we seem to be having a bit of a drawback on the mock-up.  I received word that the pilot’s unable to maneuver the forward slip.  The trim really, but I think it’s only—“

 

“You think?  Nonsense, West!  A drawback is merely an opportunity to improve.  You know Edison didn’t make the light bulb in one attempt.  He had several.”  

 

I nodded my head.  “Yes, sir.  I’m sure we’ll improve.  I’ll make certain of it.” 

 

He slammed his hand on the table.  “THAT’s what I like to hear!  Team spirit!  Lead your teams well and they’ll lead the plane’s success!  Trans Atlantic Airways ordered forty planes and we want to deliver, am I right?”   

 

A few of us nodded our heads which wasn’t good enough. 

 

“Am I right!”

 

It was a locker room pep talk at Notre Dame and Knute Rockne was pumping us for the second half.  We all took the hint and nodded, some of the more nobler of us even gave a ‘yes sir’. 

 

I couldn’t wait to get back to my office and wasted no time in loosening my tie on the way.  Just as I got comfortable in my chair and tipped it back to eye the ceiling, even though I knew it held no answers, I heard the snap of a rubber band.  It hit the lights above my desk and landed on the slanted drafting table.  Then slid down the vellum drawings I was working on.  As much as I enjoyed it, I stared at the symbolism it had become; yet another distraction from finishing my managerial commitments.  Sighing, I flipped my pencil to the floor and turned around to face the computer screen.

    

PETE:  Seriously, you’re not going to dinner wearing that tie are you?

 

TED:  (I grabbed the bottom of my tie and glanced over it.)  What’s wrong with my tie?  This is Hugo Boss silk; fifty-two dollars on sale, thank you very much!

 

PETE:  Exactly my point!  What screams, ‘I’m the one to lay off’ better than a high-paid management engineer wearing a very expensive Hugo Boss silk tie?

 

TED:  I thought you were convinced it’s not a lay-off.  Besides, I left my extras at home and I live too far away to run there and make it to dinner on time.  I refuse to be late, lay off or not!  I have a rep to uphold.

 

PETE:  You can borrow one of mine if you’d like.

 

TED:  I said a rep as in rep-u-ta-tion, not a rap as in rap-sheet.

 

PETE:  Oh, ha ha, I’m laughing so hard my sides ache.

 

TED:   You think I’m showing up dressed in your lost-in-the-60s, wrinkled, brown striped, Wal-Mart special that screams ‘lay me off I’ve been an engineer far too long and have no idea ties are no longer three inches wide’?  Or better yet, ‘I’m going to grandma’s house for ribs.’

 

PETE:  >=| That hurt, Ted.  I do not shop at Wal-Mart and my ties have blue stripes not brown, thank you very much.  Let’s not forget, I’m working overtime tonight or I’d do a Macy’s run and get one for you.

 

TED:  (I smiled.)  Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  Sorry, my last nerve is close to being fried and I have to finish this drawing before I leave.

 

PETE:  Relax.  You’ll do fine tonight.  Why haven’t you finished the drawing?  You’ve been working on it all day.

 

TED:  Seriously, does your mom know what a pain in the a*s you are?

 

PETE:  Can we say ‘a*s’ on the office intranet?  Admit it, you’d go crazy without my comedy relief.

 

TED:  Bye, Pete.

 

I clicked the computer screen off and tipped my chair back to eye the ceiling, as I had before, even though I knew it still held no answers.  The drawing was actually the least of my worries.  I had the feeling that my life wasn’t going to be the same after tonight, lay off or not.     

I decided to call Raine and see what she thought about Ellar’s dinner proposal.  She does work at O’Shea’s.  I had forgotten that Pete brought that up.  Maybe she can help in more ways than one.  She’s a good listener and a better judge of character.  If I’m just being paranoid, she’ll see it and tell me.  Then I’ll feel better.