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“IT’S A NEW DAY, AND you’ve got a new chance to prove yourself,” Shane Letcher told Charlotte when he stepped into her office early the next morning to remind her to install apple cider scented wax warmers in the conference rooms.
“I’m looking forward to it,” said Charlotte. “In fact, I figured the most logical approach would be to go straight to the employees and ask them what would make them happier.”
Shane Letcher shook his head. “That’s a silly idea. Not to mention, I don’t think people really know what makes them happy.”
“Hmmm,” said Charlotte. “They probably know what makes them unhappy though. Right?”
“I suppose so. People never seem to have any problems coming up with things to complain about.”
“So,” said Charlotte, “I’ve created an anonymous online survey, asking them about their feelings about working here.”
“Sending out something like that would be opening a can of worms,” said Shane.
“Maybe, but think of how much happier everyone would be once those worms were all dumped out and gone.”
“I don’t think I like this plan. Have you finished the survey?”
“Just about.”
“Let me see it,” said Shane.
Charlotte rolled her desk chair out of the way, making room for Shane.
“Do you mind?” he asked, indicating he thought he ought to sit in her chair.
“Not at all,” she said, getting up and moving out of his way. He plunked down, glaring at her computer screen.
“Question one,” he read, “’How long have you worked at O’Leery Snowboards?’ Now what would that tell us about whether someone’s happy here or not?”
“Well, Sir, I figured that the survey would be more valuable if it started off collecting some general information. For the actual questions pertaining to what makes people happy or unhappy, and what they look for in a nice workplace, you can skip down to section B.”
“You’ve got a lot going on here,” Shane grumbled. “If everyone completes this survey, that’s going to add up to hours of lost work time.”
Just then Wally Dingle stuck his head in Charlotte’s office. He was one of O’Leery’s top salesmen and Shane’s favorite drinking buddy. He was tall and rather gangly, and he wore his golden Fabio-inspired locks in a manbun. Despite her limited time with the company, Charlotte had already heard dozens of stories from Wally and Shane about their drunken escapades and arrests.
“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Wally said to Charlotte. “Hey, Shane. Is there some reason the big microwave in the breakroom isn’t working? I’ve got this egg and cheese breakfast pocket freezing my hand off and nowhere to nuke it.”
“Does the smaller microwave still work?” asked Shane.
“I don’t know. That one smells like popcorn and fish sticks so I don’t use it.”
Shane glared at Charlotte. “Keeping the breakroom fun, festive, and functional is one of your job responsibilities,” he reminded her. “Call Lurch and tell him to take a look at the broken microwave.”
“Don’t get that towelhead involved,” whined Wally. Charlotte flinched, but Shane didn’t even appear to have noticed the slur. “I can never understand him when he talks,” Wally continued.
“He barely understands English,” Shane agreed.
“Sorry there’s a problem in the breakroom,” said Charlotte. “There’s no need to call Ensar. He has enough things to take care of around here.”
She sighed. It was impossible for her to think of the O’Leery Snowboards handyman without a slight flush coming over her. Despite that he was off-limits, like she considered every man at her workplace, she had a little crush on him.
“Anyway,” she continued, trying to keep her poker face in place, “I think the cleaning crew mopped last night, which means they may have moved some things out of the way and unplugged the microwave.”
“Well then, go plug it in,” said Wally.
Charlotte hesitated for a moment, wondering why he couldn’t plug it in, since he was going back there anyway to use it.
“What are you waiting for?” Shane asked her. “The breakroom is your responsibility.”
“Certainly,” said Charlotte, rushing off while Shane and Wally rolled their eyes at her incompetence.
A moment later she was back, and Wally’s defrosting breakfast burrito was resting on her desk, oozing its stinky contents all over her Mary Engelbreit desk calendar.
“Did you write this survey or did you copy it from online?” Wally asked her.
“I wrote it,” said Charlotte.
“It’s no good,” Wally told her. He was leaning over Shane.
“Yeah, you can’t send this out,” said Shane. “Not with questions on it like ‘Do you feel you see your family enough?’ and ‘Would you be interested in having more healthy options for sale in the refrigerated snack dispenser?’ Questions like these are going to make employees dissatisfied and disgruntled.”
“I, for one, am happy not to see my family,” laughed Wally. “My wife’s eight months pregnant and she looks like a cow.” He and Shane high-fived.
“What we need is a place to blow off some steam during lunch,” Shane decided. “Get on that, Char. Call the Windy Pines town hall and ask them what it’s going to take to turn that deserted field behind the building into a shooting range.”
“Good idea, man,” said Wally.
Shane tapped his temple with his forefinger. “That’s why I’m in charge around here.”
Just then Brent Pritchard, head of marketing, popped his head in Charlotte’s office. “Charlotte! Looking good,” he told her.
“Hello, Brent,” she said.
“I’m here to test out my new slogan.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” said Shane.
“I almost want to make you wait,” said Brent, wedging his narrow butt onto Charlotte’s even narrower windowsill. “What a nice view you have, Charlotte.” He laughed, since her window looked out at the parking lot and his view was of mountains and the Windy Pines waterfall.
“We have work to do,” Shane reminded Brent. “So what’s your new slogan?”
Brent smirked and drummed his fingertips together. “This, lady and gentlemen, is why I’m a marketing genius. Shane, what I’m about to share is going to remind you why I make two hundred thou a year, big boy. Now listen up, old man,” he said. He waved his jazz hands around, licked his lips, and said, “O’Leery Snowboards: Keeping it ott!”
“Keeping it hot?” asked Shane.
“No. Keeping it ott,” said Brent.
“Keeping it odd?” asked Wally.
“Would you listen to what I’m saying? Keeping it ott. As in Oh Tee Tee. That spells Ott.” He leaned over, pulled Charlotte’s pen out of her hand, and wrote the letters O T T right onto the vinyl holder of her desk calendar. “Now do you get it?” he said to Shane.
“Keeping it OTT. Okay. Now I understand you, but what does that mean?” asked Shane.
Wally stretched and farted, and all three men had a minute-long chuckle over it. Charlotte tried to discreetly breathe into her sleeve and not wish she was dead.
“OTT means Over The Top,” Brent explained, once the stench had cleared from Charlotte’s office. “It’s living the extreme life. Taking chances just to see what happens. It means embracing danger and, dare I say, stupidity, to avoid boringness. OTT says ‘Hey Global Warming! Bring It! I like a little sunshine!’ OTT says ‘Typhoons, earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, tidal waves! I’ll snowboard on all your asses!’ OTT says ‘Alien invasions? Bring ‘em on! Land your flying saucers on my back porch! I’ll snowboard with aliens! I’ll snowboard on Mars! I’ll snowboard into a black hole and end up in a whole different universe!’ What do you think? Is O’Leery Snowboards OTT or what?”
“I like it,” said Wally.
“OTT is O’Leery Snowboards, and O’Leery Snowboards is OTT,” Brent shouted.
“Great work,” said Shane. “Your best work ever! Get started updating our website, and, um, anything else you need to do. Great job!”
“Awesome!” yelled Brent, punching the pot of mums on Charlotte’s bookshelf and then taking off running down the hall.
“Now that’s thinking out of the box,” Shane said to Charlotte. “You need to do more of that. Bring a little more to the table. Got it?”
“Yes,” she told him.
Both men stood up to leave. Shane hesitated in front of Charlotte’s computer, and then deleted the survey that she’d been working on since she’d arrived at five o’clock that morning. “Once you’re done getting the ball rolling on the shooting range, I want to see you in my office. I want five solid ideas about raising company morale, and five ways you’re going to make our Christmas party special. By special I mean cool. You’d better impress me. Understood?” he asked her.
Charlotte nodded. “Understood,” she affirmed.
Wally grabbed his sloppy burrito off her desk, leaving a wet puddle in its place. “You got that microwave plugged back in?” he asked.
“Yes, Wally,” said Charlotte.
“Good girl,” he said, closing the door after himself and Shane.