Each second echoed around David’s head as it ticked away. This Baggage Handler guy had asked him to wait, but that moment was forever ago.
Ninety minutes until the new presentation time. Where was this guy? David drummed his fingers on the sofa, the cracked leather catching his skin. He didn’t care if this guy was on his own. The airline had messed up his baggage, and they were well on the way to losing him his job as well.
David placed his feet on the black coffee table that sat in the center of the room, stained with coffee mug rings and coated in a thick layer of dust. He stretched back on the jet-black sofa, shiny in parts but cracking along the seams, letting go of its stuffing as if it couldn’t contain it anymore.
Down one side of the room, a glossy white counter ran along the wall. On it sat a bronze alarm clock from another time, its hands standing proud but tired against a burnished and worn face. At the end of the counter, a full-length mirror surrounded by a black steel frame lurched to one side, knocked around once too often. The ceiling and walls of the waiting room pulsed with glossy white, but the furniture was falling apart. The room must be the smoker’s lounge; the bitter residue of smoke clung to every surface.
David shook his head at the lack of professionalism. What sort of operation filled one of its main rooms—the ones on show to the world—with furniture that needed urgent attention?
They had stayed true to one corporate expectation. On the far wall, an obligatory inspirational poster was the only color in this monochrome room. But unlike the usual suspects of topics that preached about discipline or persistence, this poster featured one word: forgiveness. A tiny bluebird, its escape from an ugly black cage captured midflight, sat above a solemn pronouncement: To forgive is to set a prisoner free and realize the prisoner was you. David shook his head again. Best to leave those inspirational quotes to those corporate team-building weekends.
David turned to his phone for distraction as the seconds continued to leak away. He flung Angry Birds around, and his knees bounced along with his impatience. He exhaled his frustration.
Another three minutes smoldered into ash.
When you need to get a job done properly, you have to do it yourself.
He stood up with a rush, strode to the door, threw it open, and peered down the corridor, searching for signs of the kid who had disappeared. He saw nothing but a long white corridor, punctuated by white door after white door, disappearing into a black dot on the horizon, not a soul to be seen.
What was this place? Who in the twenty-first century didn’t slap their branding and corporate colors all over their offices?
David looked left and then right, expecting movement. Expecting something. Nothing came.
“Hello?” A single voice came back to him from down the corridor.
His own.
David huffed as he retreated to the sofa and again pulled out his phone. He would need an extension on his presentation time the way things were going. This incompetent airline had already chewed a quarter of the two hours of grace he had. He punched in Julian’s direct line but was greeted with a businessman’s greatest fear: no phone service. The veins on his temple throbbed hard.
The door handle creaked, and David cricked his neck, a warm-up to deliver some customer feedback to this Baggage Handler. Whistling, the young man stepped back into the room, and David unloaded.
“What on earth is going on here? I had two hours to get back to the head office, and you left me in here for thirty minutes in this joke of a waiting room.”
Anger pulsated from David as he unleashed. But nothing he said landed. The young man in the navy overalls and cap simply stood in silence, hands clasped as if David’s tirade was water off a duck’s back. David stopped to take a breath.
The Baggage Handler tipped his cap with one hand and clutched his clipboard with the other. “Are you done?”
David was prepared for apologetic, groveling defense, and he was prepared for blame-shifting attack. What he wasn’t prepared for was an almost uninterested dismissal of his anger. His mouth flapped open and shut like a goldfish on a sidewalk.
The Baggage Handler checked his clipboard. “There appears to have been some identical baggage on your flight. I apologize for any inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience?” David threw his hands up in the air in fuming frustration. “Your monumental mess-up could cost me my career.”
The Baggage Handler cocked his head. “Actually, if you don’t deal with this, it’s going to cost you far more than that.”
What on earth did that mean? David clutched his forehead. “What? I need to get out of here. My suitcase wasn’t exactly the same as others; I had red luggage tags from my alumni—”
“But that was the problem. Several identical bags had red tags. It always staggers me how so much baggage looks the same, but people do nothing about it.” He looked at the suitcase next to David and chuckled to himself. “Why not just get a red suitcase?”
David stepped forward, his pointed finger zeroed in on the Baggage Handler’s chest. “Look, buddy. I need you to fix this problem so I can get back to work. I’ve got a very important meeting. Missing it is going to cost me my job and the jobs of the fifteen people who work under me in our branch. I can’t afford to lose any more time.”
The Baggage Handler fixed a gaze on David with clouded blue eyes, a look approaching wistfulness. “I know. Your baggage is slowing you down.”
David closed his eyes and exhaled hard through clenched teeth at this strange man with the sad eyes. “What are you talking about?” The veins in his temple throbbed again. His stomach gripped him. Again.
The Baggage Handler nodded at the space behind him. “You’re dragging it around everywhere with you, and it’s stopping you from doing so many things.”
David reeled. This strange young man looked like a kid but spoke like a wizened old man. Berating him wasn’t working. He needed another plan of attack. His mind fumbled for the right words to use just to get out of this place. He breathed his frustration back deep within him and pressed it down as far as it would go. “All I want to do is deal with my baggage—”
“Great! I want you to deal with it too.” The Baggage Handler thrust the clipboard under David’s nose. “I need you to sign this, and then I can grab your baggage for you.”
David snatched the pen on offer and scrawled a hasty signature at the bottom of the page. “Do I need to jump through any other hoops?”
“I’ll just get your baggage.” He waved his hand toward the white counter. “Help yourself.” He placed the suitcase onto his baggage cart and disappeared again into the corridor, whistling to himself.
David looked at the empty counter. Help yourself? What on earth was this guy talking about? He shot another glance at the tiny bluebird who had escaped his cage. Lucky so-and-so.