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CHARLOTTE SMYTH WAS looking out the breakroom window, admiring the quaint mountain village of Windy Pines, Idaho, and momentarily forgetting to hate her job, when she heard that dread-inducing, familiar stomp of her boss Shane Letcher.
“Charlotte! There you are! In my office. Now.”
“Yes, Mr. Letcher. Just as soon as I get this last turkey taped to the window.” She tore a piece of tape from the dispenser; the other eighteen windows of the massive breakroom each had a paper turkey stuck precisely in the center, just as Shane had instructed. She hated to leave the last one undone.
“I said now. As in, right now.”
“Be right there,” sighed Charlotte, setting the Thanksgiving decoration and roll of tape down on the nearest lunch table, and following him.
“Close the door and have a seat,” said Shane when Charlotte stepped into his office.
“What’s up, Sir?” she asked him, after she’d settled into the chair across from his desk.
“What’s up? What’s up is that we need to have a progress report. A moment of reckoning. It’s been a month since you started here, right?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh really? Let me see about that...” Shane Letcher consulted the calendar on his desk while he scratched at his red, goateed face.
Charlotte hadn’t worked at O’Leery Snowboards for long, but she’d already learned that disagreeing with her boss rarely worked in her favor. She was terrible at biting her tongue, though.
“It seems more like two and a half weeks,” she hinted, giving him her friendliest smile.
“According to my calendar here,” said Shane, looking at the wrong date, “you’ve been here a month. You’ve had plenty of time to get settled in. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Time has simply... flown by,” said Charlotte.
“It’s flown by, you say? That’s good to hear. But maybe it’s flying because you’re not putting in enough effort? Maybe you’re going with the flow a little too much? Hmm? You think?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Shane sighed, picked up his big plastic mug, and took a drink of the homemade protein shake he was always mixing up for himself in the breakroom. Charlotte wiped up the pink strawberry powder at least four times a day.
“With you here as our O’Leery Snowboards Spreader of Cheer,” said Shane, “I’d think we’d be feeling an improvement around here, but the employees look as depressed as ever. People who work at a snowboard factory should be cool. They should be exciting and awesome and fun. Right? Right? Shouldn’t they?”
“Well,” Charlotte began.
“Hmmmph?” Shane asked, his mouth now full of a bite of ham sandwich. He brought a few of the stinky, mayonnaise covered monstrosities from home each day and could be found chomping on them at the strangest times, like when he was walking out of the restroom or heading up a meeting.
“I thought I was doing pretty well,” Charlotte said. “For instance, Sir, I’ve almost got all those turkey decorations up in the breakroom, and there are pilgrim napkins in all the napkin holders, just like you suggested. Viva Thanksgiving!”
“It’s not enough,” said Shane.
“I’ve got Kanye West’s music playing in the restrooms, like you told me to do.”
“What else have you accomplished, Char?”
“I’m pretty sure no one calls me that, Sir.”
“Charrrr letttttt. What else have you accomplished?”
“Employees’ sleep mats are on their way. They should arrive by this Thursday, so working sixty hours a week won’t feel so daunting any longer, since now everyone can sleep beneath their desks and skip going home at night.”
“Good idea, right?” said Shane, smiling to himself.
“Better than falling asleep at the wheel, I suppose.”
“Not a bad list, but all things that I could have knocked out in an afternoon,” said Shane. “What about the team building exercises? Have you gotten those scheduled?”
“Yes. Everyone’s been informed they need to come in at seven o’clock Sunday morning for a potato sack race.”
“Now we’re talking!”
“So, anyway, I’m nearly to the bottom of your list already.”
“But it’s taken you a month!” said Shane. He took another big gulp of his protein shake and wiped away the pink mustache with the back of his hand.
“Not to be contrary, Sir, but I’m pretty sure I started here on October twenty-sixth.”
“I don’t think so. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a woman who argues. Can’t you be agreeable?”
“Sure! Of course I can,” said Charlotte.
“Did you stock the breakroom cupboards with cheezy-bits and pretzel rods?”
“Yes. And I put jars of chewy vitamins out like you asked me to. What a great idea,” she gushed, as agreeably as possible. “They’re disappearing like change left in an office desk drawer. The entire company looks healthier thanks to those gummy vitamins.”
“I knew that was a good idea. Again, though, you’re just putting my own great ideas into motion. I could have done this myself for free, if I wasn’t so busy.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but scan his office when he said that. A game of Rapid Fire Bloinko was open on his computer screen, with the words LEVEL EIGHTY-SEVEN flashing. A stack of hunting and fishing magazines were open on his desk, with things he planned to purchase for his next big game trip circled in red magic marker. Behind him gurgled a saltwater fish tank whose residents he spent about forty-five minutes a day talking baby-talk to. The guitar he was trying to learn to play rested beside a mini potted palm tree weighted down with Mardi Gras beads.
“You’re busy,” Charlotte agreed.
“I ask myself every day, why’d we hire you?” Shane continued. “I expected so much more by now. You told me you had experience with party planning.”
“I do, Sir! As we discussed in my interview, I worked in Boise as the Pembrooke Country Club wedding and event planner for over three years! I turned that place around! We never had so many successful weddings and events!”
“I don’t know,” said Shane. “I’m getting concerned that you’re not edgy enough. Not smart enough. Incapable of abstract thought. Not able to think outside the box.”
“I’m smart,” said Charlotte, trying not to let his rudeness get to her. “And I’m happy to think outside the box. All I want to do is think outside the box, but you told me to put your plans into place before I got creative.”
“I don’t think I said that,” Shane Letcher decided.
“Well then, starting right now, I’ll get creative.”
“Fine. It’s the least you can do. But...” Shane sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid we made a mistake with you. Gambled on the wrong bet.”
“Sir! No! I’m the right bet! What about the horseshoes pit I set up in the parking lot?”
“Once again, that was my idea,” said Shane. “Let’s change the subject: You’re very religious, right?”
“Excuse me, Sir?”
“A little uptight? Conservative? Were you homeschooled?”
“Seriously? You’re asking me these things?” asked Charlotte.
“Oh, now I’m offending you. But just tell me this: Are you some kind of churchy bible thumper? Did I overhear you telling Shelly that you’re studying to be a nun?”
“No. You definitely did not hear that. I’ve barely ever spoken to Shelly.”
“Aha! You’re one of those women who can’t get along with other women! I’ve got to admit, I like that,” said Shane.
Charlotte rubbed her temples, too dumbstruck by her boss to bother trying to respond.
“So, give me one of your ideas about spreading cheer,” said Shane.
“What do you think about us having a toy drive for needy children?”
“This is why people think you’re a nun. Google the word ‘cool’ and get back to me with some real suggestions.”
“Okay,” Charlotte whispered, pulling her phone from her pocket.
“I don’t mean literally, at this moment! You’re a real flake, aren’t you?”
Charlotte put her phone back in her pocket.
“Cheer up!” laughed Shane. “Well, good talk. Get serious about your job. Got it?”
Charlotte nodded.
“Good,” said Shane. “Now go make me a hundred and fifty copies of this. Pass them out to everyone, and post the leftovers everywhere.” He handed Charlotte a flyer for the upcoming company holiday party.
“Hmmm. Would you like me to design a poster?” Charlotte suggested politely, after quickly scanning the sheet of paper in front of her:
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“WE’VE BEEN USING THAT same poster for years. I just pull up the file and update it. What’s wrong with it?” asked Shane.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” said Charlotte. “Except maybe the Santa. He looks a little angry.”
“I think he looks good.”
“Oh. From this angle, yes.” She tilted the paper a little. “Yep. My mistake. He looks good.”
“Good enough. I’d rather have you spend your time on planning the party instead of the party’s flyer. Make sense?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“It’s just over a month away. Consider it your final test.”
“My final test? I’ve barely settled in,” said Charlotte. Instantly her mind went to her new luxury efficiency apartment that she’d just signed a one-year lease on.
“I’m all about results. And so far, I’m not getting any. O’Leery Snowboards ought to be a cool, rad, awesome place to work. I’ve provided dozens of great ideas about how to make this place better. I’ve given you free rein to the company credit card. How much have you spent so far?”
“Errr... Twelve thousand dollars or so. But only on things from your list of suggestions.”
“Didn’t I just tell you to think outside the box?”
“Yes,” said Charlotte.
“The next month is all yours.”
“Are you serious? That’s wonderful, Sir! I have so many ideas! First of all...”
“Any ideas need to be approved by me, of course, but it’s time for you to show me what you’ve got to offer. Aside from...” Shane Letcher wiggled his eyebrows, looking Charlotte up and down, “the obvious.”
Charlotte felt her small boost of hope escaping from her, like air from a balloon. “Right,” she mumbled.
“What’s the problem? I’m complimenting you! Lighten up!”
“Sure,” Charlotte said.
“Smile! Pull that stick out of your butt! Can you handle this job? It’s not just keeping the coffee pots full, you know.”
“I know,” said Charlotte, making a mental note to keep a better eye on the coffee pots.
“It’s about being able to define trends and make them happen before anyone else would recognize them! It’s about making the employees around here feel good and motivated! It’s about being the heartbeat of O’Leery Snowboards! You need to be fun! Fresh! Fast! Alert! Cool! Or are you too old to know what’s cool?”
“I’m fresh and fun, still. I’m only twenty-six,” she said. Which is probably half your age, Mr. Trendsetter.
“Twenty-six. See, I would have guessed you to be twenty-four. But we hired you, so now I’m intent on making it work. Unless it can’t work. O’Leery Snowboards is young! Modern! We’re awesome! You need to bring it!”
“I’ll bring it.”
“Great. Put a copy of that flyer on every employee’s desk, work table, or locker. Got it?”
“Sure,” said Charlotte. “I’ll take care of it right now.”