The Coordinators

Brian sighed as her turned down the aisle to his cubicle. Monday morning and back again.  He was greeted with a sea of cubicles in a vast room of irritating, fluorescent lights and blank, lifeless walls. Wasn’t he just here yesterday…trapped in his padded cell? No, he had had the weekend off — Freedom — when he actually seemed alive. But here he was again as if the last two days were but two hours. Five days of this to look forward to before real life returned. It seemed backward. Shouldn’t it be five days off and two on instead?

Another sigh and a yawn as he continued down the aisle. He had dragged himself out of bed at the very last second and was only half awake when he began to wonder if he was on the wrong aisle. As if the sleep was finally relinquishing its hold on him, Brian began to pay attention to his surroundings. The characteristics of this aisle looked off: Did Susan get her hair colored? Wasn’t there a potted plant on Linda’s shelf? What happened to the fax machine? And this carpet did not have the beaten down path he was used to. This carpet was definitely cleaner. Brian remembered how last year they had crammed in several new aisles of cubicles and had put down new carpet at the time. Yep, the smell was even fresher. For a fleeting, confused moment, as the fog in his brain still lingered, he could not accept that he might have turned down the wrong aisle and had the thought that a renovation had been completed over the weekend on his own aisle, and he was about to enjoy some small pleasure of working in fresher surroundings. Brian thought how funny and desperate it sounded that new carpet actually would have brightened his work day. As if he would just sit at his desk smiling all day as he sniffed that new carpet smell and gazed on that lush new indigo, Berber. Finally, the fog lifted, and reality set in. He was, in fact, on the wrong aisle.

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After making an embarrassing about face, he landed directly in the arms of a man the size of a gorilla. The man immediately deposited him at an arm’s length and said: “Are you lost?” He was dressed like an executive, in full suit and tie. He had on wire rimmed sunglasses and a transmitter in his ear with a wire disappearing behind his white collared shirt.

“Oh, sorry,” Brian said, slinking past the man. “I came down the wrong aisle.” He started back the way he came and glanced back to see that the man was watching him with arms folded as if his sole purpose was to see Brian back to his proper place. “I know the florescent lights are harsh,” he mumbled to himself, “but what is with the sunglasses? Definitely against the dress code.” The sunglasses continued watching in his direction as he made it to his aisle, and now the man’s hand shot up to the ear piece and he nodded intimidatingly. 

“What on earth?” Brian said to himself as he settled into his chair out of sight behind the walls of his cubicle. “Who was that guy? I’ve never seen him around before.” Brian smirked, “He definitely isn’t a minion like one of us…the way he was dressed. He couldn’t even fit in one of these cubicles if he tried. And who in the world was talking to him through that ear piece…and what were they saying? As his computer booted up, he stared blankly at his desk. “Why is my heart racing?” he thought. “It’s not like I did anything wrong.” He opened up his email and there he saw it. The subject line read: “Unexpected Visitors”. It had been sent before he got to work…almost an ago. He leaned back in his chair, almost with some relief. “Ok,” he murmured under his breath, “Let’s see what is going on.” He clicked on the email and read:

Team:

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Without a doubt you have all noticed or had an encounter with our visitors. I am sure your are all very curious as to who they are. Your management team shares your curiosity. Please know we are in the process of reaching out to corporate personnel to learn the identity and purpose of our visitors.

In the meantime, please continue conducting business as usual and uphold our commitment to providing our clients with the highest standard of customer service. We will follow up soon with additional information. 

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— Your Management Team

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Brian read the email three times. He focused first on the word “visitors.” “There are more of them?” he thought. He read through the email for the fourth time. “Your management team shares your curiosity?” he read again incredulously. “You mean we don’t even know who they are? What is going on?” He looked around hoping he could share this moment of confusion with someone else, forgetting he sat “at the back of the bus”, as everyone called it with only a vacant cubicle next to him.

He turned back to his screen just when another email was received. 

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Team:

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We have received numerous emails in response to our previous email concerning our visitors. Please know we have read and understood all of your emails, but we have been unable to respond to each individually. Please know we continue our efforts to make contact with the corporate office for additional information. As soon as we obtain more information, we will immediately distribute it to the team.

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— Your Management Team

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“Well, at least I’m not the only one with questions,” he thought. He began one by one opening up his work applications, typing in user IDs and passwords. It was Brian’s custom to head to the break room for a cup of coffee. He brightened. “Coffee…yes,” he thought. “And, it will give me a chance to see what others think about all of this.” He started to raise himself off his seat, but he caught himself. “What about the visitors? What if I meet up with my friend again?” 

No, the love of coffee pushed back any fears, and he boldly stood up with his empty coffee mug in hand. But what he saw startled him to the point of almost denying himself his coffee. There were men like his friend stationed all over the building at various points — like sentinels. Having shyly kept his head down after his first encounter, he must not have noticed them before. They were all dressed the same: suit and tie, wire-rimmed reflective sunglasses, ear piece. They reminded Brian of giant secret service men. Though none of them were quite as big as his friend, they could have been his younger brothers. 

Most startling of all was that there were two of them guarding the front door. They were not simply guarding the door, they were standing directly in front of it blocking the way. Bryan saw that, as he proceeded to the end of the aisle, several of the men began moving from their posts in his direction. Trying to ignore them he marched on in the direction of the break room. One of the men was just ahead of him standing against the wall to his left. He would have to pass right in front of him. 

“Here we go,” Brian thought to himself, determined in his pursuit of coffee and camaraderie.   Hardly had he finished his thought when the man uttered something in the transmitter clipped to his collar and then stepped in his way.

“Are you lost?” he said. At that instant, Brian wondered if this was the same man he bumped into only a few minutes ago. No, this man was slightly smaller, but, apparently asking someone if they were lost was their go-to line. Intimidating to be sure — it automatically put them in a position of authority and assumed they knew where they were and you did not or were too stupid to know. 

No,” Bryan said with a tone of defiance. “I am not lost. That is the break room, and the break room is where I am going.” He dangled his coffee mug in the air and proceeded to go around him. He could hardly believe it but, he fully expected the man to put out his arm to continue to block him, but he did not. He only began to mumble into his collar, obviously reporting some infraction on Brian’s part. 

Inside the break room, Brian stood stunned. There was no one. The coffee machine was not percolating; the microwave was not humming; cabinets were not being opened and closed, there were no people chatting about their weekend. In disbelief, Brian looked around blankly as if everyone would magically appear at any moment. His face hardened. The cronies had done their job well. Everyone had been nicely settled in their cubicles. He was afraid to look at the door, afraid to see a group of cronies ready to pounce. Instead, surprising even himself, he flipped on the coffee machine and opened up the cabinets for a coffee filter and the can of coffee. He glanced out of the corner of his eye while the coffee brewed. Sure enough, the sentinel had now positioned himself just inside the door, apparently with no intention of taking further action.

After Brian filled his mug, a sudden inspiration came over him. He held up the coffee pot in the direction of the sentinel and said with a smile: “You want some coffee? It’s best fresh.” The man ever so slightly shook his head but made no expression, as if to say, “Don’t you dare ask me again.” 

“Suit yourself,” Brian said. He raised his mug toward the man with a respectful, friendly gesture and walked out the door in triumph.

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Walking back toward the multitude of cubicles, Brian was the only one up, except for the sentinels.  Although there was no one stirring up and about, there seemed to be plenty of fuss deeper inside among the rows. Brian could see many people who had rolled their chairs out from behind their desks and were sitting in the middle of the aisle hunkered down and talking. When he returned to his desk, Ellen, his co-worker, had rolled herself out into the aisle in his direction. “Check your email,” she said as if she were a ventriloquist. 

Brian roused his computer from sleep and checked his email just as Ellen rolled in beside him. He took a sip of his coffee and moved his cursor to a new email with a blank subject line. “This one?” he asked. Ellen nodded meaningfully and read along with him.

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Team:

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Although we have een unabe to gain further fuidance fromo our orporate office. We habe been onformationed we are now under new ownershiep. 

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— Your mangement em

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Brian read it over and over again for a full minute before turning to Ellen. “What is going on around here? New owners?” He looked at his screen again. “That’s what it says, right? I mean…spell check didn’t do a great job here…but that’s what it says.” Brian read it out loud to Ellen: “Although we have been unable to gain further guidance from our corporate office. We have been informed we are now under new ownership.”

Ellen spoke just above a whisper, “…unable to gain further guidance from corporate? Does that mean corporate doesn’t know who these guys are either. Or, does it mean they couldn’t get them on the phone? They’re not answering email? What does it mean?”

Brian shrugged. “And what about this new ownership? Whose ownership? These gorillas? And who informed them if corporate didn’t?”

Ellen shook her head. “No, no, no…this is too strange. A company this size and no one knows anything about it. A change in ownership doesn’t just happen overnight.  This is not normal. Something is wrong.” 

They stared at each other in silence as the thought settled in. Ellen continued: “And I’m concerned with the way that email looks. It appears as though someone typed it out super fast without paying any attention.”

Brian nodded. “Or with shaky fingers,” he suggested.

“Yes,” Ellen said, her mind alighting on a thought, “shaky from fear.”

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At that moment another email notification popped up on Brian’s screen. The subject line was “Reorientation”. They read it together.

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IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE POLICY OF NEW OWNERSHIP, ALL EMPLOYEES WILL ATTEND REORIENTATION CLASSES, BEGINNING THIS AFTERNOON IN TRAINING ROOM B. THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL. THE SESSIONS WILL BE DIVIDED INTO FOUR GROUPS BASED ON SEATING ARRANGEMENT:

AISLE 1 - 6 WILL BE REQUIRED TO ATTEND FROM 1:00 pm to 1:45 pm. 

AISLE 7-13 WILL BE REQUIRED TO ATTEND FROM 2:00 pm to 2:45 pm.

AISLE 14-20 WILL BE REQUIRED TO ATTEND FROM 3:00 pm to 3:45 pm.

AISLE 21-26 WILL BE REQUIRED TO ATTEND FROM 4:00 pm to 4:45 pm.

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OUR COORDINATORS WILL ESCORT YOU TO THE TRAINING ROOM AT YOUR APPOINTED TIME. 

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“All caps,” Ellen said. “They are practically shouting at us.”

“Maybe it’s a show of force,” Brian said.

“Ya think?” Ellen said sardonically.

“And I’m assuming they are the Coordinators,” Brian said motioning with his head toward the sentinels.

“Should we call someone?” Ellen said.

“Who would we call?” Brian said.

“The police, of course,” said Ellen. 

“It’s not like any law has been broken. What are the police gonna do?”

“I don’t know. This all feels very suspicious.” Ellen looked around and then back again at Brian. “I don’t feel safe. It’s like we’re being held hostage or something.”

Brian leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his head. “I know what you mean. The thought has crossed my mind as well. I don’t like they way they’re standing in front of the door like that. They definitely have the intimidation factor down pat. I was surprised to see I was the only one to get into the break room. I guess our coordinators are seeing to it that the flock stay in the corral. 

Another email notification popped up. The subject line was “Helpful Hint”.

“What’s that?” Ellen said.

“Probably nothing,” said Brian, as he opened it up.

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Although a Z-Pack is great at fighting infection, it won’t cure what we have going on around here. But don’t bother trying to call the doctor. A seepac is what is prescribed. Trust me, it is hard to swallow. You will have to mix it up first.  It should go down nicely with our favorite snack cooked well done. But be careful you don’t choke. I plan on taking some myself, but I am detained at the moment. 

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“Ok, I’m confused,”said Bryan. “What does this have to do with anything?” He was about to close it out when Ellen stopped him. “Wait, wait,” who was that from. 

“Same as the rest. It looks like its from management.”

“Why would they send that? It makes no sense.”

“What are they talking about?” Brian asked, pointing his finger at the first sentence. “‘…what we have going on around here.’”

“What do we have going on around here but a hostage take over,” Ellen said jokingly.

“Wait a minute,” Brian said. “Seepac? Who ever heard of that? That is not a real medication.” He leaned in at the screen to get a closer view. He mumbled to himself: “You will have to mix it up first.” He looked at Ellen just when it dawned on her as well. They said it together: “Escape.” 

“Oh Brian,” Ellen said clutching his arm. “Are the managers telling us to escape?

“I think so,” said Brian. It was starting to come click for him. “They are telling us it is hard to believe. See where it says ‘it is hard to swallow. And then this. Look at the last line. They are telling us they would escape if they could but they are being detained.”

“We gotta go Brian,” Ellen said, panic stricken. “We gotta get outta here.”

Brian was still studying the email. “Wait. Wait. What does it mean ‘it should go down nicely with our favorite snack cooked well done’?”

“They’re telling us how to do it!” Ellen was off her seat, now kneeling at Brian’s side. “Our favorite snack. You know what that is right?”

Brian looked at her blankly.

“Popcorn,” Ellen said.

Of course, Brian thought. It was always the first to run out in the vending machine. For 50 cents you could practically get a meal. Almost every afternoon without fail, the smell of buttery microwaved popcorn would fill the building. And the part about cooked well done. That fit too. People were always setting the microwave for too long and burning the popcorn. On more than one occasion, to managements utter frustration, the fire alarms had been set off by the smoke and the building had to be evacuated. 

“Maybe it will work,” Brian said. “We put the popcorn in the microwave and set it so it will be sure to set off the fire alarms. We come back to our desks and make ready. As soon as they do, we yell fire and stir everyone up. Maybe then we can get past those coordinators. 

Ellen’s face lit up when she heard the plan laid out. “I guess no reorientation for us today.”

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