Read A Very Short Collection of Very Short Stories Page 4


  “I think you would be the right person to write a strategic plan for the department.”

  “That’s very flattering, sir, but I don’t have any experience…”

  "I'm looking for a leader with energy and an open mind."

  "You don't think Jack would be more qualified?"

  "Jack's operations, Wes. You're a line manager."

  I nodded.

  "I don’t expect you to have all the answers. I want you to build and lead a team of division heads, branch heads, and project leaders to get inputs and then bring together the plan. Sheila Garvey and Eddie Delong in particular should be able to help. Jack, too.”

  “When do you need the plan?”

  “In six weeks. I will empower you at our leadership meeting on Thursday.”

  *****

  Six weeks later - Monday morning

  I was surprised that there was no-one at Delphi’s desk since, since even when he held core staff meetings, Terrence demanded that there always be someone in the outer office to greet visitors and take calls. I took the liberty of looking into Terrence’s office; it was dark and empty. Was I in the wrong office? It wouldn’t have been the first time. I walked out into the main hallway to double check. The sign on the door said “Communications Department, Office of the Director.” Someone had removed Terrence’s name.

  “Kind of a shock, huh Wes?”

  “Oh, hi Delphi. Where is everyone?”

  “You didn’t hear?”

  “I just got here. I had a late night, finishing up the Strategic Plan.”

  “Terrence is no longer the department head.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “He was fired.”

  “Why?”

  “Talk to Jack. He knows more about it than I do.”

  *****

  “Jack. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Wes. What’s up?”

  “What can you tell me about Terrence?”

  “The big guy fired him. I think that Ken Lewis is going to take his place.”

  “Why was he fired?”

  “Do you remember Dust Buster, the big Army software project?”

  “The one that was cancelled?”

  “Cancelled after we fell six months behind and asked the Army for more money.”

  “Did the big guy blame Terrence?”

  “Terrence was the department head.”

  “Eddie was the project manager, Sheila’s his branch head, and Joey’s her division head. Are they fired too?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “That happened last year; the department has been successful since then, every division.”

  “There was a rumor this weekend of another project overrun…”

  *****

  Wednesday

  “Hello, this is Wes.”

  “Wes, this is Delphi. Mr. Lewis wants to see you.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  *****

  “You wanted to see me, Ken?”

  “Yeah, Wes; have a seat at the table. I’m meeting with everyone who worked directly with Terrence.”

  “Congratulations, by the way."

  "Thanks. Terrence did not leave matters in perfect order."

  "I just completed a strategic plan for him. I worked with department leadership…”

  “Yeah, fine. I won’t need anything like that. Unlike Terrence, I know what to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just make sure you’re bringing new business into your branch.”

  “Understood.”

  “From now on, I expect this department to show some real growth.”

  *****

  Thursday

  “Jack. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Wes. What’s up?”

  “Was that cost-overrun rumor ever confirmed?”

  “False alarm.”

  “Really? Does that mean Terrence was fired because of a rumor?”

  “Terrence wasn’t very well liked.”

  “Why not? I liked him.”

  “He always put his own department first.”

  “Wasn’t that his job?”

  “The big guy seemed to think he wasn’t a team player.”

  “What do you know about Ken Lewis?”

  “He likes to put his own people in important positions. Watch your step, Wes.”

  *****

  “Eddie. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Wes. How can I help you?”

  “What’s your take on Terrence?”

  “I was sorry to see him go.”

  “Did he stand behind you when Dust Buster crashed?”

  “He was upset, but yes, he stood behind us. He wasn’t fired for that, was he?”

  “Why did you ask that?”

  “It makes no sense. That happened a year ago, and it wasn’t our fault.”

  “Whose fault was it?”

  “Dobbins and Freeman, our software contractors.”

  “Did they take the blame?”

  “They apologized to Terrence; there was some deception.”

  “What kind of deception?”

  “They showed us a review demonstration instead of demonstrating the program.”

  “Meaning they put on a demonstration for the review with nothing behind it?”

  “Right, they fooled us. Richard Dobbins himself came to Terrence and apologized.”

  “Did the Army know?”

  “General McDevitt said that he had hired us to monitor Dobbins and Freeman.”

  “What do you know about Ken Lewis?”

  “Sheila knows him. All I know is that he’s the new department head.”

  *****

  “Sheila. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Wes. Always nice to see you.”

  “What do you know about Ken Lewis?”

  “He seems to be the new department head.”

  “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of Terrence.”

  “Terrence didn’t want him to be head of the Heavy Metal project.”

  “Why not?”

  “Terrence thought Ken was a poor people manager. He chose Nell Richards.”

  “But, I thought Ken was head of the Heavy Metal project.”

  “That’s true.”

  “But you just said that Terrence chose Nell Richards.”

  “Ken plays golf with General McDevitt. He asked him for help.”

  “Is Heavy Metal one of General McDevitt’s projects?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And General McDevitt called Terrence?”

  “No, he called the big guy. He insisted that Ken be our Heavy-Metal project manager.”

  “Why would the big guy give in?”

  “The general told him that if Ken were not the manager, he would pull the project.”

  “Amazing. How do you know all that?”

  “Delphi and I are friends.”

  “How does she know?”

  “Let’s just say that she and Ken are close.”

  *****

  Three months later

  “Eddie, I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, Wes, but it’s still hard to believe.”

  “That was not a happy moment: you, Sheila, and Joey, all fired on the same day.”

  “The ‘Friday-Night Massacre’.”

  *****

  Two days after that

  “Jack. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Wes. What’s up?”

  “What do you know about the ‘Friday-Night Massacre’?”

  “Just what I heard Ken Lewis say on the phone last week.”

  “What was that?”

  “’The deed is finally done, General. We got ‘em all, everyone who had a hand in Dust Buster… True, all except the big guy.’”

  “What’s the future for you and me, Jack?”

  “I’d be looking around if I were you, Wes. I know that I am.”

  *****

  Two years later

  “Wes!”


  “Hi, Terrence; it’s been a while. Where are you these days?”

  “As you know, I left Erickson after I lost the department. I’m with a software house now.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “How about you, Wes? You were a pretty fast riser.”

  “That was until you left. I was shot along with a few others from your team.”

  “They fired you too?”

  “Not exactly – I was just demoted.”

  “You lost your branch?”

  “Yup. Ken Lewis traded me to another department for a mahogany desk.”

  “Too bad, you did a hell of a job for me and the department.”

  “Thanks, but you never saw the final strategic plan.”

  “I think I was fired the Friday before the due date.”

  “Good memory. You did a good job for us too, Terrence, better than Ken.”

  “I’m not so sure; I think I let a few people down.”

  “How so?”

  “Dust Buster – I never should have let Dobbins and Freeman off the hook.”

  “Why did you, if I may ask?”

  “It was a tradeoff, Wes. That’s how these things go sometimes.”

  “They’re calling my plane – great to see you, Terrence.”

  “Same here, Wes. Give my regards to Jack.”

  *****

  Two weeks after that

  “Jack. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Wes. What’s up?”

  “I ran into Terrence at the airport. He sends his regards.”

  “That’s real swell.”

  “Why so cold, Jack?”

  “I guess you don’t know everything, Mr. Strategic Planner.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Things are never quite what they seem. Terrence is now a Vice President at Dobbins and Freeman.”

  The Random Walk

  By Maniel

  At lunchtime, I set out from Erickson Systems, the last business on the block, down Evans – which quickly turns into a narrow tree-lined residential street with no center marking and no sidewalks – right on Flint past white houses with Spanish tiles, picket fences, and green lawns bathed in sunlight, and left onto Patton, where the homes are a little larger and set back from the street a little further.

  I walked on the left against the traffic and close to the side of the road. My mind was filled with thoughts of the mass-transit initiative: if Michael was right, this could foster significant future business. My role would be to do a market analysis, find a sponsoring agency, and guide the proposal effort. Suddenly, a huge hand grabbed my back and immobilized me. The hand began to squeeze me and I began to yell, “Let go.” The squeezing and yelling continued until the hand finally did let go and I rolled and fell. The left side of my body hit the asphalt at the side of the road and I came to rest face down on soft dirt. I lay motionless but conscious. Apparently, I was not dead, but was I paralyzed? I moved my fingers and toes.

  There was activity around me. A woman was yelling. “What are you doing, what are you doing?”

  I heard a car door open. “Oh my god, is he still alive?”

  “Were you trying to hit him? What were you thinking, you little idiot?”

  The woman was kneeling beside me; her hand was on my shoulder. “Lie still,” she said, “I’m calling the paramedics… Yes, we’ve had a traffic accident: a car hit a pedestrian in Point Royal – we need an ambulance. Yes, he’s conscious – on Patton at the corner of Flint – Anne Stedman – my street address is one three zero seven Patton – you have my phone number.”

  I heard someone crying.

  “Lie still,” Anne said again. “You little twit,” she said over her shoulder, “you’re lucky he’s not dead.”

  “Thank god,” I heard through the crying. My sentiments exactly

  Another car arrived on the scene. With my face down, I couldn’t see. “Hi, I’m Officer Drayton. Have the paramedics been called?”

  “Yes, officer,” said Anne.

  I heard a siren.

  ”Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Their car hit this poor man. He was just walking along the side of the road.”

  “Who was the driver, ma’am?”

  “She was.” The crying stopped.

  “I need to see your driver’s license, Miss…”

  “Julie Davis.”

  “Mind telling me what happened, Miss Davis?”

  “I turned the corner there and started to sneeze. I just kept sneezing. I guess I turned too hard. I’m not sure. When I finally stopped sneezing, we were on the wrong side of the road. My boyfriend yelled ‘look out.’ I hit the brake, but the car hit that man. I thought he was dead. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She started to cry again.

  The paramedics arrived. One knelt. “How you doin’ buddy? Can you move your toes?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Don’t move. We're gonna put a neck brace on you, just a precaution.” One grabbed my head; the other applied the brace, a long leather and metal contraption with straps and buckles. “We’re gonna turn you over.” The first paramedic held the brace while the other turned me from the hips. I could see Anne now, a slender woman, probably in her fifties, with tan skin and short, blond hair. I could see the officer who looked very tall from my position flat on the ground. I could also see that I was a mess; my shirt and my pants were torn from landing on my left leg and arm. Anne wiped the dirt off my forehead with her sleeve.

  “You were a witness, ma’am?”

  “Yes, officer.”

  “You are?”

  “Anne Stedman. I live right over there,” she said, pointing across the street.

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  “I was working in my front yard, Officer. I looked up when their car – that Blazer – turned the corner. They were going too fast for this neighborhood. They swerved onto the wrong side of the street. I heard yelling inside the car. Then they hit this man, right in the back. He was lifted up onto the hood. The car just scooped him up, and when they finally stopped, he fell on the other side of the car. I didn’t see him land, so I ran across the street to find out what happened to him.”

  “Were there any other witnesses?”

  “He was a witness,” she said, pointing.

  The officer turned to the boy. “Would you like to add anything to what Mrs. Stedman just told me?”

  “No, sir. What Mrs. Stedman said is pretty much it, more or less.”

  “What do you mean, ‘more or less’?”

  “I mean, sir, that it was an accident. Julie didn’t speed up until she started sneezing. It was the sneezing. She hit the brakes as soon as she saw him.”

  The officer leaned down next to me and asked, “Sir, can you talk to me?”

  “Yes, officer,” I said.

  “Did you try to get out of the way?”

  “I never heard it coming.”

  “Were you walking against the traffic?”

  “Yes, officer.” As a boy, I had been taught to walk against the traffic – safer.

  “I need your name and address.”

  “I’m Wesley Daniels. I work a few blocks from here at Erickson Systems.” I gave him my address and phone number.

  As the paramedics were lifting me onto a gurney and rolling me into the ambulance, Anne said, “I’ll call your wife.”

  *****

  “My name is Rick. I’ll be your server this morning,” said the paramedic, riding in back with me. “I’m gonna to set an IV, just some fluids. You’re gonna feel a little stick.” The road was rough and the jab of his needle felt more like a big stick. His first attempt to set the IV failed, as did his second. This was crazy – I had just survived being hit by a car and now I was about to be scarred for life by an IV.

  “Say Rick, I don’t think I’m going to die between here and the hospital, except maybe from a stab wound. Could you guys pull over while you set the IV?”

  “You got it man. Hey, Juni
or, pull over for a minute while I set this IV?” The ambulance pulled to the side of the road and stopped. “Good idea, so much easier.” When we arrived at the hospital, Rick and Junior wheeled me out of the ambulance, into dazzling sunlight, and through double doors into an air-conditioned emergency room.

  A nurse arrived at my side. “This one is the traffic accident?” Her accent was Pilipino.

  “Yes, Maria bella,” answered Rick.

  “How are you doing, sir? I’m Maria. Are you in pain?”

  “Not too bad, ma’am,” I answered.

  Rick was singing, “I just met a girl named Maria.”

  “Any numbness? Can you move your hands and feet okay?”

  I wiggled my feet and showed her my hands.

  Maria was giggling; “crazy Rickey – stop that singing! This man’s hurt. He don’t wanna hear you singing. Just makes more pain. You’re pretty scraped up,” she said, turning her attention back to me. “First, we scan you, then we clean you up. Rickey, help me wheel him to radiology.” The ceiling flew by as Rick and Maria, laughing, wheeled me at high speed down the corridor and through more double doors.

  When my turn came, Maria said, “We slide you onto the machine. You stay still. We do all the work.” They used the sheet on the gurney to slide me directly across onto a long hard surface. “Please don’t move at all.”

  *****

  “Hi, Wes, I left the kids at Patty’s. I came as soon as I could.”

  “Hi, Sweetheart. Thanks for coming.”

  “I had just set everything up for the kids to paint. We were just getting started when the phone rang. That lady said, ‘Your husband has had an accident.’ I said, ‘There must be some mistake; my husband is at work.’ I told her that you work at Erickson and she said, ‘I live several blocks from Erickson. Your husband was out for a walk.’ She described you and said, ‘A car hit him.’ Then I got scared.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “She said you were bruised and scraped, but she thought you’d be okay.”

  *****

  “Can we come in?” I recognized the Julie who had been driving the car. She was with her boyfriend and an older, dark-haired woman. “Are you all right?”

  “We’re still waiting for the doctor, but I think I’m going to live.”

  “I’m really sorry for what happened," said Julie. "I just started sneezing. I couldn’t stop. I thought you were dead. I hope you’ll keep walking. Don’t be afraid to walk because of this, okay?”

  I smiled and said, “Thanks, I’ll keep walking. It’s for my health.”

  “The police report, which you have, has our insurance information,” said the dark-haired woman. “The car is mine – my son was with her in the car. I’m very sorry that this happened. I hope we can settle it all reasonably. These are good kids. They stayed at the scene. Some kids would have run away. I just hope we can all be reasonable – my insurance will go up now, that’s one thing I know – I hope you don’t plan some big lawsuit. It was just bad luck. She was sneezing.”