I Don't Care If It's a Screw

“No,” Laura said. “That’s not right. It has to be in capital letters.”

“You’re wrong,” Marjorie said, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder, turning her back to Laura and walking away.

“I’m not wrong,” Laura insisted. “It’s capital letters and there’s a reason for it.”

“I’m only going to say this one more time,” Marjorie said, without looking at Laura. “You are wrong.”

“Oh for the love of all that is holy,” said managing editor David as he entered the newsroom. “Tell me you two are not fighting again.”

“We’re not fighting,” Marjorie said. “It’s more of a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah,” Laura said. “You misunderstanding that you’re wrong and I’m right.”

“Did anyone ever tell you how tedious you can be?” Marjorie asked Laura. 

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can be a real …”

“Don’t say it,” David interrupted Laura. “We’re all adults here. Certainly we can have heated, even contentious, discussions and still remain civil.”

“I apologize,” Laura said reluctantly, “but I’m very passionate about this.”

“Whatever this is,” David said, using air quotes, “that’s quite obvious.”

“The question is why,” Marjorie said.

“I worked there when I was in high school,” Laura said, “and they were very good to me. I’m loyal to people who treat me well.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Marjorie said, ‘but we’re still not printing it with all capital letters.”

“Printing it without all capital letters makes us look stupid,” Laura said, “and I have no problem telling people you are the one who made the decision to go with a capital and two lower case.”

“Like anyone would notice,” Marjorie said, laughing, still not looking in Laura’s direction.

“You’re really going with that argument after the ‘Ave’ typo?” Laura asked, referring to the edition two weeks earlier when the newspaper printed Ave Hardware instead of ACE Hardware.

“So, we got a few phone calls,” Marjorie said, now sitting at her desk with her back toward the rest of the room. “Big deal.”

“Big deal?” Laura asked, incredulous. “I will never understand how you got to be an editor. It is a big deal. It’s the name of a local business. What could be more important than the name of a person or a business?”

“You’re overreacting, as usual,” Marjorie said, arranging the piles of papers and notebooks on her desk.

“And you’re being ridiculous,” Laura said. “Listen to me for just a few seconds and you’ll see why I’m right.”

“I’m leaving,” David said, explaining that he had a meeting with the publisher and he would be gone for about an hour. “If you could answer the phones while I’m gone, and not here to prompt  you, that would be splendid. And, I expect this dust up to be over and done with by the time I get back.”

“I expect that as well,” Marjorie said, glaring at Laura, personifying the saying, “If looks could kill.”

When Marjorie didn’t object to Laura’s suggestion that she listen for just a few seconds, Laura dug through the pile of newspapers sitting on a table in the middle of the room, picked up a copy of last Thursday’s edition that included an ACE Hardware ad, slapped it onto Marjorie’s desk and started her explanation.

“The negative space in the ‘A’ is supposed to represent a planing tool,” Laura said, pointing to the ad. “The negative space in the ‘C’ represents a plunger. The negative space in the ‘E’ is an electrical plug. So, you see, it doesn’t make sense if you use lower case letters.”

“Actually,” said Jim, another reporter in the newsroom, and one who felt the need to be involved in every conversation, “I believe the object in the ‘A’ is a level and the ‘C’ is a nail …”

Laura threw her hands up in exasperation and shouted, “I don’t care if it’s a screw, a nail, a plunger or a freaking flashlight! I can’t believe we’re arguing over this! The company spells its name with capital letters. End of story.”

“Not really,” said Wendy, the senior reporter in the newsroom.

“Not really what?” Laura asked, running her fingers through her short, curly brown hair before acting as if she was going to try pulling it out of her head by the handful.

“It’s not really the end of the story,” Wendy said, placing a pencil behind her ear, then picking up a small, spiral bound book from her desk. “In any other context you would be right, Laura. ACE would be spelled with all capital letters, if that is the company’s preference. However, we follow Associated Press guidelines here,” she said, holding up the AP Stylebook, “ and they clearly state that even if a company tends to use all capital letters in its name, you would not use all caps in a story. You would just capitalize the first letter. For example, Ikea and USA Today.”

Marjorie cleared her throat and started to say something, presumably to gloat.

“Don’t say a word,” Laura said, pointing a figure at Marjorie, knowing she was smirking even though her back was still turned to the rest of the room.

“I still think the ‘C’ is a nail,” Jim said, failing to read the mood of the room, as usual. One of the few things Laura and Marjorie could agree on was that Jim’s mansplaining was getting out of control.

“It’s a plunger,” Laura insisted, through gritted teeth, hoping Jim would take the hint and stay out of this.

“I really never thought of the flashlight until …” Marjorie said.

“I realize Laura said this just a matter of minutes ago,” Wendy interrupted, “but I can’t believe we’re arguing over this!”

“It’s not an argument now, though,” Jim said. “It’s more of a discussion.”

“I’m not going to argue semantics either,” Wendy said. “Can we at least agree that the ‘E’ is an electrical plug?”

All of the reporters, and Marjorie, looked at each other and, without saying another word, turned to their computers and went back to working on their stories for the day.