“And?” Curtis said.
Roy sensed he was being asked to say something negative about the reenactors, or the camp, or that stupid flag. He did think the whole thing was pretty stupid but he said nothing. He just wasn’t going to do it.
“Kind of a game,” Curtis said. “Did you know they’ve got World War Two reenactors now? Some of the participants dress up in black SS uniforms.”
“That’s weird.”
“Is it?” Curtis said. His eyes shifted. He listened to something coming over his headset, pressed the button, said, “Malabar,” clicked off. He focused on Roy. “Heard of slave reenactors?” he said.
“No.”
“They’re out there too.”
“Doing what?”
“Playing the slave game. Would that be the term, Roy? Supposed to be a big contingent of slave reenactors going up to Chattanooga for some Lookout Mountain event. Never used to see the point of it myself.”
“But now?”
“Now?” Curtis said, and seemed about to go on when another call came over the headset. He nodded at whatever was being said, started backing out of the cubicle, then remembered something, came back, and handed an audiocassette across the desk.
He’d been gone for ten seconds when Gordo looked over the wall. “What was that all about?”
“Did you know there were slave reenactors?”
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start what?”
“The war had nothing to do with slavery, Roy. Everyone knows that.”
“Like who?”
“Historians. Ask any reenactor, North or South. Talk to Jesse. Or Lee. He’s just as sharp, you get to know him.”
“You’re telling me that if there’d been no slavery, there still would have been a war?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re starting to scare me, Gordo.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Gordo’s face, hanging over the partition, was flushed. “Got to get back to work,” Roy said.
Gordo didn’t move. “What’s that tape Curtis gave you?”
Roy glanced at the label: Managing in a Complex World: The Acclaimed Five-Step Program for Managers in the New Millennium, with Workbook, Internet Support and 24-Hour Hotline.
“No idea.”
“What’s it say?”
There was nothing to do but hand Gordo the tape.
Gordo read the label. “Why’d he be giving you this?” The accent was on you.
“No idea,” Roy said again, but maybe not as convincingly this time.
Roy popped the tape in the car player on the way home.
Why don’t you like filling out the new weekly activity report, Jerry?
Well, Carol, it takes too much time, and who reads it anyway?
I read all the reports, Jerry, and so do the people at headquarters. How much time does it take?
Half an hour, Carol, and that’s time I really can’t spare if I’m going to be a productive member of the team.
In this interchange between Carol and Jerry, we see a common reaction to change, one you’ll probably be faced with sooner or later in your managerial career. What are Carol’s choices? The most common response is what we call the Roy’s mind wandered from the little office drama. His managerial career. Curtis wanted him to know something about handling people, to be ready. The promotion was real, and was coming soon: the tape was tangible proof. Knowing for sure that the future would be better than the present: what a feeling! The next thing Roy knew, he was on the cell phone calling Marcia’s home number.
“Hello?” she said; her voice subdued, even tentative, not like her.
“Doing anything special for supper?”
She perked up right away. That was a good feeling too. “Why, no, Roy.”
“How about I’ll get three steaks, throw them on the grill?”
“Three?”
“You, me, and Rhett.”
Pause. “Right. Sounds good.”
“Give me an hour,” Roy said.
He stopped at the market on the way, bought three sirloin strips, a box of frozen French fries, a bottle of Chardonnay. He knew that Chardonnay didn’t go with steak, but Chardonnay was what she’d wanted the last time.
“What’s your best steak sauce?”
“This here Creole one. Can’t hardly keep it in stock.”
“I’ll take two,” Roy said.
Everything made sense. You worked all day, put good food on the table, sat down together, drank a little wine, the kid said something cute that made you smile at each other over his head, you relaxed, body and soul. Driving up to the house, he began to think about Marcia’s return, her actual moving back in. Should he suggest it, or wait till she brought it up herself? Roy had a funny thought-what would Carol do? Maybe better to think of her as “Carol.” Carrying the grocery bag into the house, Roy decided that this was probably one of those problems that solves itself: step six of the five-step managerial program. He was almost laughing to himself when he went into the kitchen.
The answering machine was beeping. Roy let it beep while he put the wine in the icebox, turned on the oven for the fries, went out back and scraped the grill, rubbing it after with butter, a trick he’d learned from his mother. Then, putting the steaks on a plate and pouring on the Creole sauce, one whole bottle, he reached over and hit the playback button.
“Message for Mr. Hill. This is Mrs. Searle, social services up at Ocoee Regional. We’ve got your father in here quite sick, Mr. Hill, maybe not expected to last the night, according to the chief resident, and your name is on the next of kin form. Our number here is-”
She gave the number up in Tennessee. Roy called. Mrs. Searle repeated what she’d said.
“What’s wrong with him?” Roy said.
“I believe it’s his liver, sir.”
Roy believed it too. He called Marcia, postponed dinner.
“What’s wrong, Roy?”
“Something’s come up.” He didn’t want to get into it, not with the way things were starting to go between them-maybe better than ever, that was his secret thought-and not with the weird scene his father had pulled the only time he and Marcia had met.
“Too bad,” Marcia said.
“Yeah,” Roy said. “Maybe we could-”
“Oops, I’ve got a beep,” Marcia said. “Bye, Roy.”
He put the steaks in the fridge, turned off the oven, got back in the car.
Roy drove north on 75.
It just seems like I’m taking all the risks and getting none of the rewards.
Believe me, Jerry, I’ll do everything I can to make sure your efforts are appreciated. How would you like a special mention in next month’s newsletter?
Jerry said something neutral but Roy could tell from his tone that he was starting to come around. The narrator came on and made some important points about managing, but Roy didn’t catch them all because he was wondering about that next of kin thing. He and his father hadn’t seen each other or spoken in ten years, and there was an even longer gap the time before, their relationship being mostly gaps. Maybe his father had simply written his name because it was the correct answer, him never remarrying, so far as Roy knew, and Roy being the only
