In every office there are extroverts and introverts; it's as universal as the thermostat war. This year, the extroverts won, and there was an office Christmas party. The introverts got a compromise, and there was no karaoke. Instead, the Grayson Corp let its office drones gorge on catered food while gaping at each other's unfamiliar evening wear. Instead of karaoke, the night featured a lineup of local acts—one of whom, the emcee was over-enthused to announce, was the call center's very own Maria Noyes.
She stepped onto the makeshift stage that had been thrown together in the rented hall: average height, bad skin, thin brown hair struggling to hold onto Christmas bow clips. She'd played a few other concerts around town, but she didn't have a stage name yet, and she clearly didn’t have a makeup artist. These were her coworkers; they were staring. Maria centered herself as the prerecorded score began to play, inhaled, and—
And her world exploded.
Seven injured. One concussion. One recuperating after surgery to remove shrapnel from his leg. The official report blamed an HVAC malfunction; according to the police, the heating ducts underneath the floor were faulty, and should have been addressed by the rental hall proprietors prior to the party. The ducts gave out, bolts bursting free of a gap in the metal, when someone cranked the heat too high. The gap had been under the stage.
Maria paged through the document while under the watchful eye of her supervisor and lawyers from both sides—hers, and Grayson Industries'. Maria had been in this office before, for meetings, but never while it was so empty. The austerity seemed worse without a PowerPoint flickering over the walls. She fumbled through the report for her name, but she wasn't mentioned anywhere. Maria looked up. Her manager shrugged at her expression.
"You weren't wounded, Maria," he said. "How would someone explain it? It doesn't fit with the scalding and the abrasions, does it? I don't know how the explosion would even do that to—" The company lawyer lifted his hand.
"Mr. Daniels, please abstain from commentary extraneous to the document. The investigation into your—situation—is ongoing. Grayson Industries and the police do not currently feel that your—issues—are tied to this incident. If the police find some conclusive evidence that your—problem—has any relation to this accident, then by all means Grayson Industries will reopen their own case file and reconsider your needs in the terms of workman's compensation. They will then take every necessary step to render you whole." Maria bent to scratch furiously, and soundlessly, on the paper in front of her—but her lawyer placed his hand over hers. He took her paper with him when he moved three seats down the table. Only then did he speak:
"There was no indication of this condition prior to this party," he read, and then finished for her, "And it was fully in force with no gradual or intermittent occurrence afterward. In light of this," he said more authoritatively, "Is Grayson Industries really refusing to play ball? Hiding behind plausible deniability? My client is being reasonable in the compensation she seeks—if your conditions for fault are met, if this goes to court, the settlement alone will be far more than this." He tapped the sheet of paper with her demands in front of him. The other lawyer pointedly shuffled the same paper onto the top of his stack.
"If Ms. Noyes were willing to cooperate with Grayson Industries to study the—problem," he said. He did not continue, instead watching Maria's soundless mouth as she spat choice words at him. She ended her tirade with another noiseless slam of her fists on the table. "Then no, her requirements would cause undue hardship on the company, and they prefer to determine fault prior to reopening the holiday event to scrutiny. Ms. Noyes's own case is in the hands of the police. Off the record," he continued as he packed his papers into his briefcase, "Perhaps it's fortunate that you've lost your sound. If I'd heard any of that, I am certain it would only hurt your case." Maria stared at him; her lips were moving, but nothing came out. “Good afternoon, Ms. Noyes. Please call me if you have any quest—”
Maria shoved her chair back before the lawyer rose. She stormed for the door. It slammed shut behind her without a whisper.
"Did you hear about Maria?"
"Who? Oh, from the Christmas party! I heard she’s suing."
"I heard we’re suing her!"
"I heard she flipped the table in conference room B."
"The whole table? It’s huge, and my cube's right there. I didn’t hear it!"
"Exactly."
Comments
Post a Comment