Suit Up

It was a normal Tuesday for a normal person like me, Lynn Alma. I’m average all the the ‘round. Average height, average weight, brown eyes, and medium brown shoulder length hair that I kept in a ponytail. I had gotten average grades throughout school, a couple A’s here and there, mostly B’s and C’s with a couple unfortunate but ultimately unaffecting D’s and F’s. I had gotten lower grades in math- numbers just weren’t my strong suit. And now I work at a manufacturing plant making window seals- the little rubber bits that keep the cold air out. It’s not glamorous and is one of those jobs a lot of people end up getting but no kid would ever say that’s what they wanted to do when they grew up. With the exception of steel toes and safety glasses, we could wear whatever we wanted. (Well, I couldn’t wear skirts or the like, don’t want loose clothing getting caught in anything) For the most part, nothing exciting happened. And generally, all of us liked it that way; because if it got exciting, that meant something went dangerously wrong. The plant was typical- cement floors with anti-fatigue mats strategically placed, working desks, machines, bins, and trashcans. It wasn’t perfect- there was a hole in the ceiling in one area that the office swore ‘it was looking into getting fixed’...for years. And one wall had a big ‘N’ painted on it that stood for ‘north wall’; that was on the East side of the building. But we had gotten our bathrooms and locker rooms upgraded in the last year and the vending machines were replaced with a whole c-market system. Much better selection with slightly higher prices. Some people had complained about the prices at first, but everyone eventually got over it and just dealt with the fact that you pay more for convenience. 

I worked second shift and I like it. I don’t have kids or pets or anything, so working in the middle of the day where I don’t have to get up super early works out for me just fine. Other than grocery shopping, there isn’t a single thing I can do at 5 am that I can’t do at midnight. And that’s how my co-workers feel too. Second shift is the most chill shift at my plant, and we all get along well- a few of us even hang out a little outside of work too. 

Just like at most factory plants, occasionally we have time where it’s slow- the main production isn’t going, so we do off-line work. That little stuff that we don’t have time to do normally. Like putting an official partial label of exactly how much footage is on our special tape for the pieces for rolls that weren’t used up completely or repainting the safety squares under fire extinguishers. We also end up getting the chance to update work orders, forms, and run copies of stuff as prep for when we’re back to normal running. It’s avery lax; no real deadlines or machines running, means we can take longer breaks without consequence. A couple times, our team lead, Jason, even instructed us to take an extra 10 minutes because we were running out of small tasks and needed to make the ones we did have last as long as possible.  

 Normally, we are only allowed to put on music through a speaker via our phones and then put the phones away and aren’t allowed any kind of earbud of headphones. For safety, you need to pay attention to the machines and be able to hear any sirens or alarms and the overhead walkie-system. But when we’re on offline work, as long as we aren’t walking or moving stuff on the floor, we’re allowed to check our phones and we can wear one earbud in the office area. Overall, a very lax atmosphere. 

And where there is lax and extra time, there is chatter. People having nonsense conversations all over the place throughout the day. People talking about sports, sharing videos and stories. And some people, the longer they talk, the wilder their stories get. 

As I said, it was a typical nonchalant Tuesday between first break and lunch break. I was doing a usually unneeded inventory check of how many rolls of packing paper we had and combining any skids that had 8 or less rolls on them. I was looking really official though; I had a clipboard with an attached pen and new ID number labels to put on newly combined skids. I also had my phone set on a stack of nearby boxes with my mini speaker, listening to a lo-fi live on YouTube. 

Jason had popped over to see how I was doing, if I needed anything, etc. You know, team-lead-stuff... and because he didn’t have anything else to do either. When we’re not in normal operations, he doesn’t have any reports to send out to the supervisors or managers, he doesn’t have to break anyone because the machines don’t need babysat, and when the machines aren’t running, they’re not breaking either. So, Jason’s only real task is to make sure everyone is accounted for throughout the day. He was tall and most of him was lankier, except his shoulders were so broad it was more like a wingspan. He had bronde hair he kept wrapped in a bandana and his jeans were almost never blue- he owned maroon, khaki, and black. We were friends outside of work and sometimes it clashed when he had to be in ‘in-charge’ mode. But at least he did his job; the third and first shift team leads were rumored to not check anything but stayed at the designated smoking area outside all day except when they had to use the bathroom. 

The tow-motor driver, Marty, came over and chatted with me for a few minutes too. Marty was one of the guys that had been here for over 30 years and loved his job. He wasn’t wrinkly and had the bod of an older guy who never lost his military build. His hair was full on his head and full white that made his blue eyes stand out. He was also one of the most diligent and kind workers. There’s not much to move or put into shipping when we’re not running. Marty used his time up by doing inspections. Today, he was inspecting skids and making sure none were too broken. He used his flashlight and kneeled to check under all the palettes. We have some pretty janky skids, so I asked him what exactly qualified a skid as ‘too broken’. 

“Well, the only parts that matter are the support beams that make the base parts under the palette. And if there are three or more planks missing from the top. The front slash back planks on skids break all the time, but, if the center is missing or the base beams are cracked, it’s a useless and unsafe skid” he replied as his light skimmed under the row. 

“Ah” I said in acknowledgment. 

“But these ones are all passable. Good to go, Kid” he said standing up a moment later. Then he stopped and held up a hand “Not that you’re a ‘kid’, I’m not trying to offend you” 

Marty was extremely considerate (or paranoid) and I appreciated the concern. 

“Nah, you’re good, Marty.” I smiled at him. 

He smiled too. “Just don’t wantcha coming at me with a fork or anything” and then he went to the next row and started checking under those skids. 

I went back to counting the packing paper rolls. I didn’t have a second thought about the fork thing Marty had said. It was just a phrase in the moment. Or. So. I. Thought. 

In fact, Marty wasn’t even around anymore when Lyle, one of my coworker friends, came over and he gave me a weird, puzzled look. 

“Hey, uh, Lynn?” 

“Yeah?” I asked, moving to turn the music down a bit. 

I didn’t have a hard time hearing him, it was just instinctive. 

He licked his lips and had a furrowed brow and looked up at the ceiling briefly- as if he was searching his brain for the words. 

Lyle is on the short side for a guy. He went from long purple hair to a natural buzz cut. He was our machine-tech; he checks the chem levels and gets them even.

I raised an eyebrow at him after about 12 seconds of awkward silence and said “Yeees?” 

He let out a sigh. 

“Lynn. When you were in high school.... did you...maybe...ever...?” Then he trailed off and bit his lip. 

I gave him an exasperated look. “Did I ever what, Lyle?” 

“Did you ever wear a cat furry suit in high-school" 

What. The. Hell. 

“What, NO!” I said louder than intended. I lowered my volume and said “Why would you think that?”  

“I-I didn’t think you did! I was asking to make sure you didn’t!” He said defensively. 

“Where did you get the idea from at all?” 

He didn’t get a chance to answer when rounding the corner behind him was two more co-worker friends. Josh and Will; two average height guys who were both a little overweight. Josh had strawberry blonde curly hair that he wore long. Will had brown hair he kept just long enough to pull into a ponytail. They were both softies. Josh was more charismatic and socially outgoing than Will. But if you got Will on the right topic, you couldn’t stop his monologue. 

They both approached and looked from me to Lyle. 

“So, er, did you...ask her yet?” Josh asked. 

“Yes!” I interjected somewhat haughtily. I also moved to stop my music entirely. “And No, I never wore a furry cat suit in high school. Or elementary school. Or EVER. Where are you guys getting this idea from?” I demanded. I was almost whiny about it because I was annoyed. 

“Well, it’s Craig...” Lyle started. 

“And where did Craig get that idea from?” I demanded again. 

Craig was one of those types I mentioned before; the more he talked, the wilder his stories became. He was my age but looked older from not taking care of himself. He had started balding, kept the remainder of his almost black hair shaved down, had a small unkempt goatee and mustache. He was average height and overweight too, but he didn’t carry himself as well as Josh and Will. He was the type who also acted like he knew everything about anything. Dog training, cooking, farming, etc. He and I had gotten into an argument once about working out. I worked out several days a week-he didn’t work out at all. But he knew stuff better than me. Listen, I don’t care for the guy, okie? 

 And what Josh said next didn’t help improve my opinion. 

Josh stepped more in front of Lyle as he said “Craig said he’s known you since you guys were in high school, and you know how to dress up for Halloween?” 

I loved Halloween and wore a different work-compliant costume, with full makeup and wigs etc., every day for the whole week before and on Halloween. Everyone loved it and got a kick out of it. But I didn’t know what the heck that had to do with wearing a furry cat suit in high school. 

“Yeaaaah?” I said suspiciously and narrowed my eyes. 

“Well, he was saying that that’s nothing compared to how you were in high school. He said that every day you wore a full furry cat suit to school” Josh replied. 

“And you guys believed him?!”  

“NO! Well, not entirely.” Will said. 

“Listen, I dressed up in the most basic cat stuff ONCE for a presentation. That’s it!” I said angrily. 

“We know you like costumes. We knew that he was exaggerating” Will said gently. 

“Exaggerating?!” I nearly shouted. It echoed in the non-machine running warehouse area, with no soft things to catch the noise. 

Will, Josh and Lyle all gave a grimace. 

“That’s not ‘exaggerating’ that’s straight up lying!” 

“Well, we just wanted to ask you because we believe you and wanted to clarify” Lyle assured me. 

“Well, let it be clarified that I never in my life wore a full furry cat suit to school. My mother would never have let me!” 

“OKie, okie, we were just asking” Will said as he moved closer and patted my shoulder. Will such a great, kind guy, and when he said it, his hazel eyes went into Bambi-mode, and I let my shoulders drop. 

I couldn’t stay mad at him. It wasn’t their fault. I sighed. 

“All right. But no, that never happened” I picked up my clip board and started to go back to work. 

They all moved off. 

I admit I was still a little huffy about the cat suit thing. What made it worse was that Craig didn’t go to the same high school as me! His mother and my mother have a mutual friend named ‘Sherry’ and Sherry and her husband ‘Bob’ had a lot of BBQ’s over the summers. That’s how Craig and I met. A few times over some BBQs. He lived in a different country and went to a different school in that county. 

I felt a little more drained when I wondered how many more people he had told the cat-suit story too. I let out a groan and rubbed my forehead. High school was forever ago and nothing about it mattered anymore, but it was still frustrating and embarrassing! 

Not ten minutes later, the production manager was walking over to me. He looked like he had something pressing to ask me. Oh. My. Gawd. I was going to kill Craig. 

The Production Manager, Mr. Kingsley, got up to me and I couldn’t take it. 

 I whipped around and loudly said “Sir, I NEVER wore a furry cat suit, EVER and even if I had, which to reiterate, I DIDN’T, it was way back in high school and should have no effect of your opinion of my work now!” 

Mr. Kingsley’s grey eyes widened, and he pursed his lips a bit “Um. Okie, then Lynn. Um, I have no idea what you’re talking about and no, nothing you did in high school would have anything to do with here and now and I wouldn’t hold anything against you from then. But er, what I did want is to ask you if you had changed any of the settings on the office printer. I understood you were printing off redone work orders the last couple days.” 

I wanted to die, I put on hand over my safety-glasses-covered eyes. “No, Sir, I didn’t. If it’s not working, check that the paper hasn’t jammed. It doesn’t always correctly show a paper jam on the screen.” I said with as much composure as I could skim. 

Mr. Kingsley smiled at me “Thank you, I will check that.” and walked away. 

I finished the skid of paper rolls I was on and then stormed off to find Craig. 

He was making long boxes in another part of the plant. When his frame caught my eye, I saw him talking to Will, Jason, Josh, Lyle, Marty, and a couple other people around the plant. Craig was pointing towards them. I could hear his voice but not yet make out the words. 

I felt my cheeks and stomach burning. I was seeing red. If I was in a movie, there would have been black smoke coming from each step. I was having a mantra in my head of ‘I have bills to pay, I have bills to pay.’ 

I got in earshot of him in time to hear him say “I’ve known Lynn for 15 years, and she wore that cat suit, I SAW her! And I mean, you misunderstood. I didn’t say she wore it every year, she wore it every day for ONE YEAR. It was the same year she chased me around my Aunt Sherry’s yard and stabbed me with a fork several times! And trust me, you remember if you got stabbed or not!” 

Craig was not reading the room; because everyone was looking behind him at me, seeing me seethe. They all looked scared-for him. He finally turned back around- not because of their stares, but because he looked astonished to see me, standing there with clenched fists and a red face. 

And do you know what that lying jerk did? He doubled-down!  

He looked at me and said “Go on and tell them the truth about the cat suit. And how you stabbed me with a fork at Aunt Sherry’s BBQ” 

I quickly thought once again about how I didn’t have another job lined up and still needed this job to pay bills before I acted. 

Between clenched teeth I growled out "I DIDN'T EVER WEAR A FURRY CAT SUIT! I dressed up for a presentation, ONCE, I had worn some cat ears headband, a clip-on tail to give it for extra points! With normal jeans and a tee shirt! It was just the tail and ears with basic pink lipstick on the tip of my nose and black eyeliner made whiskers. ONCE, ONE SINGLE FREAKIN’ TIME. And you didn’t see me in it, we went to different high schools. You saw the picture on my dad’s phone at a BBQ that summer!” 

“Yeah, the one where you stabbed me with a fork” Craig pressed. 

I ‘grrrred’ and shouted, “I had a serving fork, and you used your hand to reach for the same stuff I was, and the fork poked your hand!” 

“So, ya see, she admits it she did stab me and wear a cat suit” Craig said triumphantly. 

I asked him if he had an epitaph.