I went into the CEO’s office, but left the door open so that my new ally could bear witness to the soul-crushing degradation that is working in corporate America. So that he’d know he wasn’t the only one doing some blood-letting. But I couldn’t remember the message. The CEO looked at me, questioned me with a crisp, “Yes?”, but it was gone. I could remember the ugly face of my mid-level manager, who looked so much like the Dean of Admissions. I could look into the future and see how upset she’d be that I hadn’t been successful on such an important task. But for the life of me I couldn’t remember her message.
Before the reprimand came I ran out of his office, grabbed my new friend by the hand and ran down the stairs with him. They were taking bodies in suits out on stretchers. People were dying and I had no idea why. The two of us threw open the front doors and ran outside together, into the pregnant spring. The corporate lilac bushes were in bloom, the daffodils, the grasses, the tulips, all growing together like a chaotic jungle, as if to make up for the lack of life just inside the building.
We two worker bees inhaled the fragrant air and then took off running down the sidewalk. I woke up thanking the stars that I don’t have a job to go to this morning.
And euc would always say, “Caged birds accept each other, but flight is what they long for.” And she’s right.
