For Reasons Unknown

“Mr. Boehm, you have been brought before the disciplinary committee today upon concerns of a breach of conduct regarding ethics code 11.24a. The committee will conduct an extensive review into your professional activity in the workplace, as well as your moral standing within the community. At this time, we will hear any opening remarks you may have in regard to the complaint, or complaints received that you wish this committee to consider during our investigation.” Dr. Wurley, the chairperson of the committee stated.

    Tarron Boehm stood in front of the committee without representation or a hint of knowledge of the supposed complaints being brought before him. His neatly pressed grey suit, three shades lighter than a cold charcoal mirrored his persona nicely. Simply put, Tarron was a forgettable individual. He was in a middling division of a data collection company on a floor that housed 124 cubicles that homed 124 individuals who looked just like him, walked just like him and talked just like him. To know one member of floor 64 was to know all members of floor 64.

    “Sir, I’m not entirely certain as to why I am here today. My work has maintained the highest tier of compliance and my daily interactions have been limited to a simple warm greeting of Mitch at security when scanning my badge in the morning and a kind goodbye to Arthur manning that same desk when I leave for the day. Could I possibly ask for more detail regarding such a complaint? Perhaps I could clarify my words or actions for the committee and save us all the time.”

    Dr. Wurley wore an air of pompous elitest that bled into the six members of the committee that sat on either side of his slightly risen platform and chair. It was a team of 13, but Dr. Wurley was the ultimate decider of fates. To impress and charm Wurley was a nearly impossible task for those that faced the committee given their easily replaceable skillsets. To Wurley, it simply was an unnecessary bout of due process where it was in his nature to toy with those in the defending box. 

    “No sir, you may not. Am I to believe, is this fine team of 13 in this committee to believe that you sir were unaware of your daily actions? So oblivious to your choices that you have not a shred of thought as to why you may be standing before us today? If this is the case, we may as well stamp this decision right now and…save the committee some time as you so elegantly stated.”

    Dr. Wurley’s smug tone and verbal cadence had garnered the eyes and ears of all in the decision room. The termination stamp and red ink pad was removed from the only drawer on his podium. In unison, the remaining twelve members of the committee shifted their attention from Dr. Wurley to Tarron Boehm. 

    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Tarron started before Dr. Wurley cut him off.

    “You’re sorry? Is this an admittance of guilt to the ethical violation that has gathered us here today? You are a man of your word, Mr. Boehm. You truly ARE saving this committee time.” Mr. Wurley smugly stated. 

    The termination stamp was being pressed firmly into red ink pad when Tarron Boehm returned to pleading his case. Boehm left the defense box and entered the floor before the committee. A committee agent tasked with recording the proceedings hustled to Tarron Boehm and clipped a microphone to his lapel before instructing him to speak so they may re-test his levels.

    “Dr. Wurley. Committee members. All I ask is for the opportunity to hear of the specific complaint so that I may address it properly. I apologize that we even have to be here today, and I assure you that I would never knowingly act in a any manner that would jeopardize my job. You have to believe me. I’m sorry for this misunderstanding.”

    Tarron was dejected. His forgettable suit with his patternless grey tie had become disheveled. His hair, what little remained appeared victim to the friction of the cheap suit sleeves waving and pleading before the committee. Another member of the committee brigade entered the floor and approached Tarron.

    “Mr. Tarron Boehm, it is my duty to inform you that effective immediately your credentials for the firm have been revoked. On the other side of the decision room doors are two employment agents and one security officer. The employment agents have collected your personal belongings from cubicle 64-111. These items include: (1) apple phone charger, (1) brown bagged lunch consisting of (1) turkey sandwich, no cheese, no dressing, plain on marble rye bread and a (1) cheese stick. The security officer will collect your badge and key fob. Your review will be conducted in your absence, and you are ordered to return to the premises on the 23^rd day of October to hear your final ruling on your status. This will be a paid leave of absence, however if found the complaints are accurate and warrant termination, you will forfeit any unused paid-time-off. As of this meeting, you have accrued 251 paid days off.” The Exit coordinator, said.

    Tarron stood still during his directions. Only his eyes shifting from those who flanked Dr. Wurley as if anything he could convey non-verbally would garner a brave soul to stand in his corner and challenge the accusations made of him. Alas, Dr. Wurley stood, ushered a peaceful nod towards the coordinator and Tarron was escorted out of the decision room. 

*****

    It had been eleven days since his departure from work and still no word on any decision or details regarding the complaint itself. Tarron had grown to regret failing to make one friend at the office. What he wouldn’t do for the classic water cooler talk as he paced his one-bedroom apartment, wearing thin the carpet fibers in his 8-foot repeated path.

    Three times a day, like clockwork Tarron would sit down at his kitchen table for two, remove his single plate, bowl, set of silverware and glass and set himself for a meal. It was his lone activity aside from pacing his living room floor and napping on the raggedy old sofa he bought from goodwill when he first moved to town. It wasn’t for a lack of financial ability that everything about Tarron failed to be memorable and lacked character, it was that he had always been a man of simple pleasure and personal gratification. 

    After a week and a half of pacing and considering any interaction he had that could have caused such a complaint, he only could think of three. One involved a fellow employee in the parking structure. Tarron had noticed that they parked in two spaces with what appeared to be a new truck. Tarron expressed appreciation for the vehicle and even noted that he too would park in two spaces to protect such a fine automobile. Tarron thought that perhaps these words came off insincere and sarcastic. Maybe he offended the individual. He couldn’t understand how, but it was all he could think for days. He had replayed the scene over and over in his head and each time remembering or dreaming of tiny variations or inflections that could have led his actions or words to be misconstrued. He latched onto this first scenario for three whole days without sleep and could picture everything but the gentleman’s face. Perhaps it was one of the committee members? Perhaps it was Dr. Wurley himself?

    The second scenario he considered was three Friday’s prior to the committee meeting. The previous night, Tarron had decided to entertain the idea of trying a new Thai restaurant three blocks over from his apartment building. They had been slipping menus under his front door for weeks and the mood finally struck him. Tarron did not like cooking fish in his apartment as the smell lingered for days. The only window in the living room had been plastered shut and wasn’t able to open to air out the space. He ordered shrimp lettuce wraps as an appetizer and the grilled fish topped with coriander chili for his main meal. Around lunch that next day, Tarron began experiencing bowel issues and thought that perhaps it had been food poisoning. He had made several trips to the restroom that afternoon and had the misfortune of releasing several aggressive movements. Perhaps someone complained of his foul odor and noisy excretions? How childish, he first thought. Someone would complain of another having stomach issues like it isn’t something we’ve all faced before.

    Tarron threw away all of his takeout menus and began scrubbing the inside of the drawer that they were kept. He would not be eating outside his normal, uneventful meal choices again. No, sir. He could not risk it. If he were granted access back to work, he would maintain dry lunchmeat sandwiches, cheese sticks and maybe some fruit on special occasions.

    The eleventh morning had brought a third concern to Tarron’s mind. Sleep deprived and likely malnourished, Tarron recalled a moment where he took a personal phone call at his cubicle. It was a call from his dentist requesting a time change by 15 minutes on his upcoming appointment. The call was no more than a minute. How could anyone have known? Sure, no one was supposed to take personal calls on their devices once in the building, but he saw many of his coworkers on their phones and tablets at their cubicles on his trips to the breakroom. Could they be singling out this one call? Had his work slipped that the committee had been looking for any reason in the book to terminate him?

    The uber alert had popped up on his phone notifying Tarron that they were 2 minutes away. Tarron ordinarily would drive to the office, but even he had recognized that he was not his best self this late October day. With just two minutes to straighten himself up and meet the driver at the entrance to his building, Tarron opted to throw a zip-up hoodie over his t-shirt and lace up his old Chuck Taylor’s. No need to be business ready for a meeting he’d enter to learn he was being terminated for defecating in a company toilet after some bad Thai, he thought.

    Mitch was at the front entrance to greet Tarron. One last time for old times sake, right good buddy, Tarron thought to himself. 

    “Morning, Terry. I’m here to escort you to the decision room. And between you and me, the big guys up there are pissed at something. I don’t know what you did to stir them up, Terry. But you ought to be real proud of yourself. No one gets invited back after being escorted out.” Mitch, said.

    Unbelievable. He doesn’t even know my name. Tarron, thought. “This is…a good thing?” Tarron, asked.

    The two walked to the elevator which they road 66 floors in silence before Mitch handed Tarron over to the same employment agents and security officer that ushered him out just weeks prior. They wore the same attire, spoke no words and gave not so much as a nod to follow. Still, Tarron trailed just feet behind whilst heading back to the decision room double doors where sat the 13 total members of the committee, led by Dr. Wurley.

    “Mr. Boehm. Have you anything to say for yourself before we render a final ruling on your case?” Dr. Wurley, asked.

    Tarron stood with a zip-up hoodie and relaxed sneakers looking more like he had accepted fate of unemployment than prepared to challenge the committee. The three scenarios that had plagued him for days seemed almost irrelevant then and so he opted to reply with the only words he felt may serve him well. “I’m sorry, sir. To you. To the committee. To this place of business. I apologize.” Tarron, stated in a clear, robotic delivery.

    Dr. Wurley sat atop the committee; eyes fixated on Mr. Boehm for what felt like an eternity. Tarron mirrored the stare, determined to not blink first. Two men, locked in a moment that would determine one’s professional future. “Very well, Mr. Boehm. You may return to your desk. You have several weeks of backlog to catch up on from your absence and I suggest you get started promptly.” Dr. Wurley stated.

    Tarron could not believe what he had heard. The coordinator approached Tarron to hand him back the lanyard, ID and fob that the security agent had confiscated weeks prior and simply stated, “welcome back, 64-111. Welcome back.”

    The committee was shuffling out of their respective sections of the panel desks, closing files, locking drawers and offering gentle smiles and nods of approval for Tarron and his renewed employment status. As Tarron approached the double doors to exit, he felt a strange compulsion to inquire yet again what this break in his employment came from?

    “Dr. Wurley. Before you go, can I ask what was the complaint? And what made you rule in my favor?”

    Dr. Wurley offered a hesitant smile that quickly returned neutral. “You apologized, Mr. Boehm. Let’s just leave it there, shall we?”