The End of the Line (cont)

This was an unfamiliar situation.

The hysteria had driven virtually every coworker, friend, and family member into the street. From my office window I watched the organism stretch out like a snake, the tops of thousands of heads moved at a snail's pace. It was too slow to see, but I detected one distinctive red hat was a half-block closer than before. Beside the crowd there was a perpetual stream of people rushing towards the end of the line...grown men and women with their business clothes, briefcases, dresses, high heels. Some were obviously not accustomed to running, and the frantic desperation fed the aura of panic. The sight was mystical and hypnotic, and the dramatic suddenness of it all tempted my curiosity...drew me in.

Tearing my eyes from the spectacle, I observed my office...the scattered pieces of paper on the floor...the half-full mugs of coffee.

Creepy.

I sat in a chair and thought for a while. I could almost hear the voices of everyone urging me to join the line. I checked my phone. Their texts and emails inquired how close I was to the front. I wondered if I would regret my hesitation, picking up a half-eaten bagel from my neighbor's desk. I brushed off the dried onions (yuck) and took a bite. I realized I hadn't eaten all day. Ah, laziness...procrastination.

Was I missing out?
Would I have a job tomorrow?
Was the line my only hope?

I looked at the reports on the desk in front of me next to the open container of cream cheese. The cover page was impressive, with bold colors and intricate designs. It was crafted for the executive staff meeting that afternoon. Us grunts were asked to boil expansive constructs down to a few simple charts and pictures for the guys up top. We always knew it wasn't the full picture, but what are you going to do? The bean counters in suits never had time to read reports or mull over figures anyway...it was all we could do just to show them a cartoonish illustration that hinted at the real story.

Knowing the reports would never get reviewed with any scrutiny, creative pictures became paramount. Those of us who gathered and compiled the data were bemused by this. Half-eaten-bagel-on-desk lady always drew up some impressive figure that over-simplified and trivialized our situation to the point of hysterics...never missing the wooden clogs and Dutch-style wind mills to illustrate wind-speed metrics at proposed turbine sites. A laugh was always welcome between the leather chairs. It was usually half the story, but any attempt to explain the full story would have been even-more-greatly misinterpreted in that posed, superficial glance. In other words, by counting on the execs to judge a book by its cover, there was not only room for obfuscation, but a necessity for it. (At least that's what she said). Then, we would quietly laugh at the final decisions, but what did we know? They were paid to see the big picture, not us.

Recognizing the negligence, us stat guys barged into a meeting one time to try to tell the big shots the real story. They didn't like our geeky graphs as much as the pretty wooden shoes and colorful pictures. A buddy of mine got canned for that.

I looked at my desk and the piles of data that needed crunching. I looked around and noticed the phones off the hook, the trash cans knocked over. I had never seen evidence of such urgency in the history of the company. I guess they were all in a hurry to get a good place in line...to stand and wait for whatever they could get.

Perhaps I should have bowed down on the cold ground. Maybe then it would have been worth it...worth the handout. Ha, me...reduced to a professional beggar. Shame on me for even thinking such a thing. But, would I? Could I resist such a thing...easy money picked from trees for a couple soiled knees?

I stood up and walked back to the window. The power was out. It was dark. By the moonlight I could see the members of the organism crowded closely together in the cold like penguins. The ones on the outside would only stay there for a while before nudging inward where it was warmer. Apparently this was faith...this was hope. Without heat the office was getting colder. I found a blanket, grabbed a half jelly doughnut from the CFO's desk and went to sleep in the broom closet.