On the Verge (29 page)

The rest of the afternoon is like this. Things get pretty heated. It’s not a meeting I can tune out of. There is anger on all sides. Everyone’s complaining about the workload and I can totally tell the
Bicycle Boy
staff is not pleased with having to share any kind of spotlight. I want to write it off, but even Lorraine is getting emotional. Jarvis and Rob are clearly not surprised by everyone’s reactions. Mabel is thriving on all the drama. She nods at everyone’s comments and writes them down on the white walls so we can “capture” our emotions.

Although Lacey should be happy that she is sitting pretty, she is getting fired up with questions. I think she is setting herself up to be an advocate for the people. Jim just keeps making obnoxious comments and I’m surprised that he hasn’t bitched about lunch. Gary, who has been put under Lacey and some other writer from
Yoga for Life,
asks a question in a high-pitched voice on the verge of cracking. I keep waiting for Herb to make some stupid joke that everyone will laugh at, but he doesn’t.

We wind up there until—get this—about 4:30. (Rob left at 3:00.) And, no, the brownies and cookies didn’t help. Mabel stands at the door and finds out all of our names. She wants us to sign up for change management workshops. “Nice to meet you, Eve.” She pumps my hand and looks straight into my eyes. “When would you like to come in and talk to me?”

“That’s okay, it doesn’t seem like my job is going to be affected that much,” I say, trying to get by. Mabel is not a small woman, she almost blocks the door to prevent me from getting through. She doesn’t stop smiling though.

“Eve, a lot of times, the best thing for us is to deal with things head-on. Now, I know you’re swamped, everyone is, but it’s important to get your concerns out in the open.” Now I’m holding up the line. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this.

“How about I just call you later when I’m not busy and see if we can work it in?”

“Eve, how about you sign up for a time, then if you absolutely can’t make it we’ll reschedule.” She actually puts her arm on my shoulder as if she truly pities me for being so overworked. I feel guilty. I bend down and sign up for a time in two weeks, one of the last possible days. With any luck the building may burn down by then or I’ll find a new job. Rob may not have been able to help me get a new job, but maybe he can use his pull to get me out of this meeting. If he ever talks to me again.

“Okay, I’ll be sure and call you a few days ahead to see if you’re too busy.” She will because Mabel is one of those people who never suspects that her actions might annoy. There’s a purpose for everything she does.

“Great,” I say, finally slipping by. “Thanks.”

Back at my desk, I have a zillion messages from Tabitha trying to figure out how many of us have been fired. She knows I haven’t been because “assistants are golden at this company since they aren’t supposed to have any brains.” Tabitha has a whole conversation with herself on my voice mail about this, and how maybe we are bad assistants because we do have brains. There’s also a strange one from Rob. He speaks very quietly like his dog is dying or something.

“Hey, Eve, just wanted to make sure everything is okay. Give me a call if you need to.” Well, when he puts it like that, how can I ever call him? Any phone call would mean that I need to call. I call Tabitha and tell her the story.

“I think it’s only the beginning,” she says.

“They said that we, I mean they, were chosen to ‘spearhead’ (eww!) this new magazine, because the readers had similar lifestyles.”

“Yeah, boring, healthy lifestyles.”

“Exactly. Rob was there and he looked cute. Should I call him?”

“Eve, you might want to because you’ve been slightly nunnish lately.”

“Tabitha, it’s been like three weeks. How’s Vlad?”

“On his way out, but he doesn’t know it, so he’s still being pretty wonderful.”

“Wonderful. Anyway, I have to go clean up.”

“Let’s kick off the week with some cocktails? You in? I might ask Vlad.”

“Am I going to have to watch you fawn all night? You know I can’t stand it.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to freshen the crowd a little, girl. You oughtta welcome the change. With any luck he can bring one of his sexy friends.”

“As far as I know I’m still taken.”

“Debatable.”

“Thanks. Stop by around ten. I’ll talk to Roseanne. ’Bye.”

I head down to the conference room to check on the status of the food. With any luck they’ll have ravaged everything and I’ll just have to throw away the serving trays. The food is mostly all done, but they made quite a mess, so I’m a little annoyed. I start to clean up and I don’t realize right away that Gary, the writer, is sitting there in the dark.

“Oh, hey,” I say, covering my embarrassment. “Didn’t see you in here. Are you done with this?”

“Sure.” He is disconcertingly quiet. I start carrying the trays out to the garbage cans near the freight elevators, so I have to keep coming back in. He is acting strange. I feel like I should talk to him.

“Are you okay, Gary?” He waits a long time before he answers me.

“It’s just the beginning, when they do this. They start by just making one change, but the next thing you know it’s three months later and your job is nothing like it was. They’ll package this like a promotion, but the magazine is dying. When it sinks, they’ll have someone to blame.”

I have no idea what the right thing to say in this situation is, so I sit down across from him. “Change is hard, I mean maybe after a while you’ll like this magazine. I’m sure this magazine will take off.” He nods, but I don’t think he thinks so.

“I’m one of the only people who believes in the product. I’m the demographic. That’s what got me in trouble, I was too resistant to all the new things they wanted to do, now I am out!” He makes a kill motion across his neck. He is starting to get worked up.

“Well, it’s not like you got fired.” I’m trying to be encouraging.

“No, not yet, anyway, but it’ll happen. Dammit!” I kind of
think Gary needs to just calm down a bit and give it a chance. I start to tell him this, but he puts his head down on the table and I think he starts to cry.

Shit! I’m not good at these kinds of things. I mean, it’s one thing to comfort my friends, but I don’t even think I like Gary. I try to reach across the conference table, but it’s too big. I get up and walk around the table.

I hesitate a second, before sitting next to Gary and touching his shoulder. Almost immediately he starts hugging me, sobbing. I try to be soothing, but it’s Gary, an annoying writer, it’s not like I can pat his back and say, “There, there.”

After three really long minutes, Gary sits up. He squeezes my hand. “Thanks, Eve, you’re very kind. I guess I let myself get comfortable in a situation and now I’m realizing that it was never the situation I ever imagined myself being in. Eve, if I could do it all again, I would have just concentrated on my own writing or cycling professionally. Let this be a lesson to you, you’re still young. Don’t let your day job get in the way of whatever it is you want to do.” Then Gary gets up to leave.

That episode and the way Tabitha said “debatable” about Rob are really bugging me, so instead of going right home, I head up to Rob’s area. Sherman is surfing the Net, I’m sure of it, but real quick, he switches to his SchedulePlus.

“What’s going on, Sher?”

“Nothing, Rob isn’t here and I can’t let you in his office.”

“Hey, Sherman, relax, I was just in the area and I wanted to see if he was around.” I eye his SchedulePlus. Sherman gets flustered and switches it off back onto the Net. He puts his hands up by the screen, not wanting me to see what he’s looking at.

“Easy there, Sherman, soon you’re going to be making personal phone calls.”

“Never.” What a dork.

“Okay, can you tell Rob I came by? When did he get back from Jacksonville?”

“I can’t give that kind of information out. Sorry.”

“Well, thanks, Sherman. Have a good night.”

“Ah, yeah, good night.” I walk away slowly, hoping Rob will be on his way back up. This is pathetic.

I don’t bother to mention Gary’s crying episode or anything about Rob to the girls when we’re out that night. I’m not sure why. Maybe Gary deserves to have a little dignity. But, not telling them about Rob? I don’t know, maybe
I
need a little dignity. We
do wind up talking about the changes going on in the company. Roseanne is getting bored with all this talk, but she takes off running with the work-for-yourself topic. She starts off talking about Tabitha and me and how we want more out of life than what our job is giving us, but somehow winds up complaining for a half hour about her job. Now I can tell Tabitha is losing interest and in the meantime, we smoke all of her cigarettes. I kick her so she won’t get up during Roseanne’s diatribe.

“I just hate it. Every day I sit there and I stare at my computer and all those numbers and they start to blend together and I actually start zoning out.”

“Fascinating,” says Tabitha as I kick her harder under the table. “No, really, it is, it just goes to show how everyone our age, even the people we’d like to believe are happy with themselves, are miserable at their jobs.”

“Maybe we are the only ones and we attract each other, because we know we can feed off our misery?”

“I don’t know, Eve, you would think people at my job would be the type who would just accept their fate, because they are making good money. No one really feels sorry for themselves, but no one is having fun.”

“Are you supposed to have fun at work?”

“Tab, you’re the one who absolutely needs to like what you’re doing! You are probably the most into your job.”

“Because of all the perks, sure.
NY By Night
is high profile, its success is crucial. But I know there’s been a few slips in advertising, and it’s going to affect us. I bet we get reorg’ed.”

“Nice grammar. But, you really think you are supposed to have fun at work?”

“Okay, maybe fun is the wrong word, but I think you need to be doing something that gives you a purpose instead of sitting from nine-to-five bullshitting with your co-workers like Johnny Q. America, not giving a shit. Content with your paycheck and wondering if there’s anything good on TV. Does anyone really believe in what they produce?”

“I don’t even produce anything—I crunch numbers. In theory it is kind of fun, ’cause I like math, but at the end of a day, will all those papers mean anything?”

“If you believe in your company.” I think we are starting to have a talk my sister Monica would love. She would come into it with all kinds of theories and try to show us up with all her knowledge.

“I think Eve’s right,” says Tabitha, “we should think about starting a magazine.”

“Exactly what kind of magazine, though? Eve never really says.” They both look at me.

“I guess just one that we would want to read,” I suggest. “I mean one for people our age, not exactly kids anymore, but nowhere near adults.”

“But making adult decisions.”

“And pursuing the fabulous life,” Tabitha adds.

“Right,” I say, “although the fabulous life would be anything from the coolest club in New York to pursuing your dreams or having a weird, cool job. We’d be inspiring but not creepy. Fun but not fluffy. There’d be gossip and stuff, too, but articles that you wouldn’t want to just skim, you know?”

“What kind of articles?” Tabitha is taking this seriously and so is Roseanne. I don’t like being the focus of attention when I don’t have things decided. It would be one thing if I had a good story, but now I’m just tossing out ideas.

“Articles that wouldn’t make you say ‘why bother?’ when you finished reading them. I mean your occasional celebrity profile, but more of a lifestyle magazine, I guess, with stuff people want to read. Everything from like making it on your own to debunking advertising myths to joining the circus.”

“The circus?”

“I don’t know, Ro, forget it, I’m getting carried away. It’s too ambitious.”

“No, Mommy, you’re doing it,” says Tabitha. They both look at me, waiting to hear more, but I tell them I need another drink. I realize when I’m standing at the bar how excited I’m getting. I mean it’s strange to actually let these ideas come out. When I get back to the table with our cosmopolitans, Roseanne is smiling at me like I’ve done something amazing.

“Is Tabby getting cigarettes?” She nods. “What’s up?”

“It’s a good idea, Eve, I’d read it.”

“C’mon, it’s just talk, besides, you’d write for it. You’d write the money and cooking sections.” She starts laughing. “Anyway, it’s drunk talk. I’m only just beginning to realize. Some girls get drunk and talk about the one that got away, not me, I want to start a magazine.”

“You’re no average woman, Eve Vitali.” Roseanne gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“Perhaps you can write an exposé on the myth of the New York
Kiss.” When Tabitha gets back, we smoke another pack of cigarettes and drink many more cosmopolitans. We do a little dancing, even though it isn’t that kind of place. Our friend the British bartender, Clive, encourages us, shouting, “There you go, sweethearts.” I drink myself into oblivion and forget about the magazine. For a little while.

Rob is the only one in the elevator when I get in the next day. Hungover, the only thing I had on my mind was getting to my desk as quickly as possible. I am wearing my most comfy pair of pants and pale lipstick that won’t be too harsh against my colorless, dehydrated skin. He raises an eyebrow at me. I lean against the back wall of the elevator and wait for someone else to come running in, screaming, “Hold the elevator.” Someone always does, but not today. “So, um, what’s up?”

“Not much. How was Jacksonville?”

“Hot. I’ve been crazy busy since I got back.”

“So what are you doing in this elevator bank, reorganizing some more people?” He looks at me and somehow manages to make me feel like a shit.

“I doubt you even cared that much, Eve. I’m sure you were somewhere else during the whole thing. As usual.” The “as usual” kills me. I am too tired to get into it with him. Silence is always a better approach in these situations. After a little while he says, “I miss you.”