Working Like A Dog

Big-O-Pharma Closing In On Vaccine Success.

The headlines exploded across the country overnight. Excitement replaced the uncertainty millions of citizens had resided to feeling for months on end. Contracts were being signed, schedules for the vaccine deliveries established with dozens of subsidiaries across the country, and grossly expensive bottles of champagne ordered in lieu of the novel celebration at Big-O-Pharma laboratories.

It was an exhilarating time for Morgan. Her overtime and intensive commitment to working in the lab was about to pay off. She’d been leading a team, through countless hours of overtime, honing in on a successful vaccination against the pandemic – the virus transferred from one mammal to another through incidental randomness. Chaos had changed the world and tomorrow Morgan would finalize her team’s accomplishment: a vaccine to end the global microbial fight.

Morgan woke up early. She was unable to sleep well the night before the big day. Luckily for Morgan her precious puppy, an oversized mutt of indiscernible origin, was wide awake with her and enthusiastically ambling around her feet as she paced her apartment with anxious strides.

“Alright. You win, Seymour! I’ll take you for a walk,” Morgan said encouragingly to her sixty pound mutt of a dog. “I guess we both have a lot of energy today.”

Morgan leashed Seymour and they went outside together. Feeding off each other’s bouncing energy they bounded around their neighborhood while everyone else was quarantined in their homes. The smile on Morgan’s face was equally matched by her best friend’s. As they reached their favorite park, a little patch of greenery, the pair tussled and rolled around together, gleeful and without worry.

Her phone rang. She settled herself on the grass, grappling Seymour in place with her free hand, and answering the early morning call from her supervisor at Big-O-Pharma.

“Hey,” Morgan answered cheerily. “What’s up?”

“Morgan. Can you come into work early today? We want to get this vaccine finished up and begin phase three of the operations. The faster we can close this phase out, the faster we can deliver the vaccines to our clients. And if we can make our clients happy, well, you can imagine the economic downstream effects our company will receive, which will mean a pretty hefty bonus for all of your efforts and success,” her supervisor said in a nearly robotic voice. “Can you be here in thirty?”

Seymour shook himself out, tossing grass and dirt and fur everywhere. Morgan wafted the cloud from her face before answering.

“Of course. Yes. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Great. You’ve always been an accountable employee,” he stated.

Morgan dragged Seymour out of the park. The big puppy wasn’t quite ready to leave, nor was Morgan, but bigger objectives meant greener grass, and Morgan controlled the leash with fervor against the indomitable and furry, yet overly friendly, beast. “Come on, Seymour. I got to get to work. Today’s the big day,” she said in her best dog orientated voice.

Back at her apartment Morgan washed her hands and face, and threw on a clean shirt and pants before bounding out of her apartment. Big-O-Pharma required their employees to dress cleanly and maintain a certain standard of sterilization at the workplace. Seymour sat studiously at the door, giving her owner a confused, but adorable look, which captured Morgan’s sense of pity on her way out. “Don’t worry, Seymour. I’ll be right back. Got to go save the day,” she said and gave him one last puppy loving hug.

“There you are, Morgan. We are all ready to go for the vaccine. Green light. The team’s in place and we just need you to perform the final pipetting of the serum,” her supervisor said as he orchestrated a team of personnel in white coats, nitrile gloves, and protective eye glasses through the laboratory. There were even newsman and photographers documenting the historic event. “We’re counting on you, Morgan.”

The praise made Morgan feel larger than life as she entered the clean room. The crowd parted for her as she stepped up to the lab bench, clicks and flashes of the cameras in the background, dozens of pairs of eyes on her every move. She was ready for this moment. The salvation of society residing in her next moves.

Morgan delicately held the pipette, sucked in the precise volume of the pathogen-solution with exquisite movement of her hand, and delivered the final steps to complete the vaccine. It was done! She set the pipette down on the bench, closed the vial with a sterilized stopper, and confidently walked it over to the next team who were waiting to handle the delivery of the vaccine.

An eruption of applause ensued in the facility. Morgan was heroically appeased and congratulated. Her innovations and leadership were the driving factors that led up to this moment of success for Big-O-Pharma and for the world at large. She felt herself elevating into heavenliness.

Interrupting the saintliness of the moment, a red, flashing light originating from the vaccine delivering station stopped the celebration. The upbeat chattering ceased and all eyes ventured away from Morgan and onto the alarm light. Something was in error. Morgan rushed over, splitting the crowd, needing to know what the problem was. If there was a solution, she would be the solver.

“What happened? I don’t understand. We did everything correctly. We tested, and retested, and…” she clamored exasperatedly to the bench chemist.

“What’s the matter here?” her supervisor, leaning over Morgan’s shoulder, questioning boldly.

The bench chemist slowly turned around with a squeezer in hand. “There’s your problem, right here.”

Morgan and her supervisor narrowed in on a fine piece of hair held together with the tweezers.

“Is that a dog hair!” her supervisor said. His face was now redder than the alarm.

“It got into the vaccine vile and presumably contaminated the final product,” the chemist continued disparagingly. “This batch needs to be eliminated.”

“Morgan! What do you know about this? Where’d this dog hair come from?” Angered blew from his voice.

The entirety of the room tunneled into Morgan as she felt all of her work crumble beneath those tweezers. It was Seymour’s hair. She knew it and recognized it right away.

“I couldn’t tell you, sir,” she lied, embarrassed, and unable to speak beyond those few words.

“Alright. Morgan, get your team together. We need to fix this, immediately. Overtime, longer shifts, more efficiency. Let’s go everyone. Come on,” her supervisor instructed vehemently. “And no dog hairs, people! Please make sure to avoid contact with your animals at home before coming in to the lab.”

Big-O-Pharma Vaccine Offset By Dog Hair Contaminant.

The national headlines had already disseminated through the news before the day was over. And after a long, daunting shift back in the lab, reworking the vaccine process with her team and thinking about her error over and over, she returned home to her apartment. Seymour was waiting for her, seemingly unmoved from his earlier position in front of the door. When Morgan opened the door – feeling as tired as a dog herself – Seymour leaped on her to welcome his owner back home.

“I missed you, too, Seymour,” Morgan said to puppy as she knelt down and began petting him as if nothing eventful had happened since they’d been apart.