Shorter, Faster, Funnier

by Eric Lane

  Still, the answer wasn’t enough for me. I mean. The guy said he loved me. And screw courage! I mean: love. Doesn’t that count for anything: secrets, truth, whatever. Laser says that my superhero power is the ability to turn everything into a love story. That this Indian cabdriver experience was really just a one-night thing and I shouldn’t look at it like some fairy tale. But I have to think that fairy tales, like stereotypes, have their foundations in truth. They reflect something of our collective human experience—all of us, in some way, can not only understand but relate to them. And if that is so, then a love story can bloom from a simple, immediate, human connection. And if this connection wasn’t what I thought it was—well, then … I traded my dignity for a fifteen-dollar cab ride home.

  And so here I am: no dignity, no lover, no courage: I may as well end it all here. Ah look: headlights! I’ll show you, Nilesh; I’ll show you, Love; and I will show all of you that an NYU education is relevant to contemporary urban life!

  (Emboldened, TRISTAN steps out in front of the car, which is racing toward him. We hear beeping, over which TRISTAN chants with his eyes closed …)

  Queen of cabs, queen of cabs: give me back my husband!

  Queen of cabs, queen of cabs: give me back my husband!

  Queen of cabs, queen of cabs—

  (The screeching of tires. The car stops. TRISTAN is a doe in the headlights. CABDRIVER enters.)

  CABDRIVER: Tristan?

  TRISTAN: Huh?

  CABDRIVER: It’s you.

  TRISTAN: Hey … why didn’t you call?

  CABDRIVER: I did. Twice. You didn’t answer your phone.

  TRISTAN: Oh—well—I’ve … been at the theater—a lot of theater lately.

  CABDRIVER: I thought the wrong number was not right so I am going to your apartment to leave you this.

  (A note.)

  TRISTAN: It’s warm.

  CABDRIVER: (Touching his heart.) It has been in my shirt pocket for a few days. Fear keeps me small, I think.

  TRISTAN: But that night, you left so quickly. I thought—

  CABDRIVER: I was still working. I had to return the car. How many of us can actually afford a medallion?

  TRISTAN: … Wow. How did I miss that?

  CABDRIVER: It takes courage to trust others … and ourselves.

  TRISTAN: What was your secret?

  CABDRIVER: You.

  TRISTAN: But I don’t want to be someone’s secret.

  CABDRIVER: No, neither do I.

  (Pause.)

  TRISTAN: You’re not married are you?

  CABDRIVER: Not since I came here. (They laugh.) I am sorry I was afraid.

  TRISTAN: Yeah. I am sorry I was too.

  CABDRIVER: So. Now?

  TRISTAN: … Dinner?

  CABDRIVER: There is a very good place over across there. We walk?

  TRISTAN: Why don’t we take your cab?

  CABDRIVER: Please, there is more to me than that.

  TRISTAN: … I think I’m going to enjoy taking the subway home tonight.

  (They walk off together.)

  END OF PLAY

  H.R.

  Eric Coble

  H.R. was commissioned by Dobama Theatre, Cleveland, Ohio, and premiered March 13, 2009, directed by Joe Verciglio. The cast was as follows:

  FRANK Michael Regnier

  KRISTEN Jennifer Klika

  CHIP Tom Woodward

  MARGARET Lissy Gulick

  CHARACTERS

  KRISTEN: An department chief, thirties.

  FRANK: An office administrator, fifties.

  CHIP: A sales rep, thirties.

  MARGARET: A vice president, fifties.

  TIME

  Now.

  PLACE

  An office.

  SETTING

  A receptionist’s desk in an office.

  At rise: FRANK, fifties, in shirt and tie, sits behind the desk, on the phone.

  FRANK: (Into phone.) … thank you.

  (He hangs up, concerned, as KRISTEN, thirties, also in business attire, walks in with a file. She glances behind the desk.)

  KRISTEN: Hey, Frank. Is the fax machine broken?

  FRANK: No, ma’am.

  KRISTEN: ’Cause the Peterson people were supposed to fax me an invoice.

  FRANK: Yes, ma’am.

  KRISTEN: You’re sure it’s plugged in and everything?

  FRANK: Yes, ma’am.

  KRISTEN: They said by ten o’clock.

  FRANK: We got nothin’.

  KRISTEN: Well, screw them.

  (She grabs a candy from the little bowl on FRANK’S desk.)

  FRANK: Yes, ma’am.

  (Kristen starts out.)

  You should know, H.R. called.

  (Kristen stops.)

  KRISTEN: From corporate?

  FRANK: Yes, ma’am.

  KRISTEN: When?

  FRANK: Just now, I just hung up the phone, I was about to tell Margaret.

  KRISTEN: So what did they want?

  FRANK: They’re coming.

  (Beat.)

  KRISTEN: Today?

  FRANK: This afternoon.

  KRISTEN: And this is the first we hear about it?

  FRANK: We’re just employees, why should they tell us?

  KRISTEN: Why are they coming?

  FRANK: They didn’t say.

  KRISTEN: Didn’t say or wouldn’t say?

  FRANK: Is there a difference?

  KRISTEN: All the difference in the world, Frank.

  (CHIP enters, a good-looking guy in his thirties in collar T-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops.)

  CHIP: Hey, Kristen-McGisten. (Kisses her cheek.) Morning, Franker. (Shakes his hand, glances behind the desk.) Is the fax machine broken?

  FRANK: No, sir.

  CHIP: I should have gotten a fax from the Brownsteins.

  FRANK: Yes, sir.

  CHIP: But no faxy-taxy, huh? (Taking a candy from FRANK’S bowl.)

  KRISTEN: Chip, H.R. called.

  CHIP: Who’s H.R.?

  KRISTEN: Human resources, Chip.

  CHIP: Right! Absolutely! Yeah, no, I was thinking like H.R., like H.R. Pufnstuf.

  FRANK: No, this would be human resources.

  KRISTEN: From corporate. They’re coming.

  CHIP: Where.

  KRISTEN: Here, Chip, they’re coming here to our office.

  CHIP: Why?

  KRISTEN: We don’t know.

  CHIP: Well, why don’t we know?

  KRISTEN: Because they won’t tell us.

  FRANK: “Didn’t” tell us.

  (MARGARET, fifties, enters in a business outfit with papers.)

  MARGARET: Frank, is the fax machine broken, because—(Sees the others.) Oh. Did I call a meeting and forget to CC myself?

  KRISTEN, FRANK, CHIP: H.R. is coming.

  MARGARET: What?

  FRANK: I was going to tell you, I just got off the phone with them, I tried to tell you, but these, these, these (gestures to KRISTEN and CHIP) hindrances hindered me.

  MARGARET: When are they coming?

  FRANK AND KRISTEN: Today.

  MARGARET AND CHIP: What??

  CHIP: They can’t come today! Today is casual day!

  KRISTEN: For you anyway.

  CHIP: I wasn’t seeing anyone today—Margaret, you said on days when there was no face-to-face I’d be Mr. Phoner Man, I could dress down, you said they wouldn’t know how I looked over the phone, you said so!

  MARGARET: Well, I didn’t know H.R. was coming, did I?

  CHIP: Oh, Christ, I gotta, they’re gonna see me, I’m not, they’re gonna totally—

  KRISTEN: Didn’t you used to keep a shirt and tie in your office just in case?

  CHIP: (Slaps his forehead.) Duh! Yes! Emergencies! If this isn’t an emergency I don’t know what is, right? Thank you!

  (He grabs another candy and charges off.)

  MARGARET: It’s not an emergency, it’s just H.R.

  KRISTEN: But they didn’t call you?

  MARGARET:
No. Which is sort of … Frank, why are they coming?

  FRANK: They didn’t say.

  MARGARET: Didn’t say or wouldn’t say?

  KRISTEN: (To FRANK.) You see?

  FRANK: I was as surprised as anyone, but I played it cool, like you always told me to do, I asked, “Oh, really?” very calm, very like, “Hmm. What’s the occasion?” and they said they just needed to meet with the staff and they’d be here this afternoon.

  KRISTEN: “Meet with the staff …”

  MARGARET: Was that exactly what they said?

  FRANK: “We just need to meet with the staff.” That’s what they said.

  MARGARET: “Meet with the staff.”

  KRISTEN: “We need to meet with the staff.”

  MARGARET: (Checking her PDA.) We’re not due for another town hall meeting until next month.

  KRISTEN: (Checking her PDA.) Self-evaluations are due in May …

  MARGARET: And the confessional retreat is in June …

  KRISTEN: “Dreaming Outside the Box” is in July …

  MARGARET: (To FRANK.) Do you have anything on your calendar?

  FRANK: (Looks at his desk calendar.) Mmmm … Tomorrow is Tina’s birthday.

  MARGARET: They aren’t coming for Tina’s birthday.

  KRISTEN: Them and me both.

  MARGARET: You’re not still mad about the refrigerator thing?

  KRISTEN: I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.

  MARGARET: It was two months ago, Kristen.

  KRISTEN: And the Oreo pie was clearly labeled as mine, it was from my party, it was on the left side of the second shelf which is my side of the second shelf—

  FRANK: (Reading calendar.) This is National Blood Pressure Awareness Week.

  KRISTEN: Oh, I’m aware.

  MARGARET: They wouldn’t—

  FRANK: (Reading.) My cat has a vet appointment on Thursday. I think they’re gonna give her one of those big white collar things—

  MARGARET: You’re sure they said “meet with the staff.”

  KRISTEN: Maybe they just need to meet with sales again.

  MARGARET: Then Chip damn well better have a tie in his office.

  (And CHIP trots on buttoning the most wrinkled dress shirt you’ve ever seen, over incredibly wrinkled dress pants, a tie in his hands, but still wearing flip-flops.)

  CHIP: Okay, no worries, the Chip machine is powered up, people.

  (He makes a “clicking on” motion.)

  KRISTEN: Jesus, Chip, where do you keep that suit, in your desk drawer?

  CHIP: … yeah.

  (He takes another candy from the bowl.)

  MARGARET: Okay, look, people, H.R. could be coming for any number of reasons. To discuss new benefits packages or go over new evaluation forms, talk about the needs of each department—

  KRISTEN: Or they could be coming to ax someone.

  (Beat. They look at each other.)

  MARGARET: We have no reason to believe that.

  KRISTEN: Then why are they coming? Why no notice? Any of that other stuff, they could do in e-mails—

  CHIP: But it’s Monday. They don’t fire people on Monday.

  KRISTEN: Tell that to Howard and Laneesha.

  MARGARET: And Gregory. Don’t forget Gregory.

  CHIP: Oh, God. Gregory.

  FRANK: I don’t care what they do, I’m not going down like Gregory.

  KRISTEN: My point is the day makes no difference.

  MARGARET: But it does matter who’s coming. (Dials her cell phone.) Hang on.

  CHIP: But we know who’s coming.

  FRANK: We don’t know names. If it’s Mr. Hickenlooper, we’re all probably all right.

  CHIP: As in Mr. CEO?

  KRISTEN: You know another Hickenlooper?

  FRANK: The big boss won’t be anywhere near a firing. Wherever he goes there’s this protective bubble. Like you’re fine until he walks out of the room.

  CHIP: I want to be in that bubble. I need to be in that bubble.

  MARGARET: (Into phone.) Uh, hi, Francie, this is Margaret in Cleveland, just got word about the impending visit and wanted to check on who exactly we should expect. Call me back, okay? Thanks. Bye.

  (She hangs up, looks at the rest of them. They look at her.)

  I left a message.

  KRISTEN: They didn’t take your call?

  MARGARET: Well, no … but … (They all take a step back from her.)

  Oh, come on! I’m sure she was just on the other line.

  CHIP: Not taking your calls. That’s like the first sign.

  KRISTEN: (Nodding.) They’re sending H.R. From corporate. They don’t do that for little people. They only do that for higher-ups.

  FRANK: No, little people they fire over the phone. Remember Henry?

  CHIP: They got him over the phone?

  FRANK: Whenever he hears a ring tone now? He wets himself.

  KRISTEN: They’re sending someone in person …

  CHIP: Margaret …

  MARGARET: This is ridiculous. They’re not—I haven’t even—If they were going to terminate anyone, they’d be scheduling a survivor’s guilt workshop for next week. We’re all fine.

  FRANK: Unless they were sending H.R. because they want us to think it’s for someone higher-up, and it’s really for one of us.

  CHIP: … or multiple ones of us.

  KRISTEN: Unless they think we think they think we’ll think they’re thinking of a manager, so they can actually think about one of us, but they’re really thinking about a manager.

  MARGARET: … They’re not that smart.

  KRISTEN: Or they want you to think they’re not that smart.

  MARGARET: These are the people who made Frank count out spoonfuls of creamer to see if we were actually getting what the container said we were getting.

  CHIP: And were we?

  FRANK: The jar said there were 150 servings, I counted 137.

  CHIP: Maybe you counted wrong. Maybe that’s why they’re coming.

  KRISTEN: No. You know what. I bet it’s Tina.

  FRANK: Won’t be Tina.

  KRISTEN: Why?

  FRANK: She filed a complaint against Leon last year, remember? For inappropriate behavior. There’d be lawyers all over them if she got fired.

  KRISTEN: Then maybe it’s Leon?

  FRANK: Won’t be Leon. He’s African-American. There’d be lawyers all over them if he got fired.

  KRISTEN: Dammit! I wish I’d filed a complaint.

  CHIP: I wish I was African-American!

  MARGARET: We’ve got to let the rest of the office know they’re coming. Frank, send out a memo—

  KRISTEN: No!

  MARGARET AND FRANK: What?

  KRISTEN: What about Desmond?

  MARGARET: In I.T.?

  KRISTEN: He’s dug in in his little spider hole back there. He’s an ex-marine.

  CHIP: He collects guns.

  KRISTEN: If he gets advance word H.R. is coming? It’s gonna make Waco look like a freakin’ doll party.

  MARGARET: Oh, for God’s sake.

  CHIP: But the rest of the crew should probably know. They might need to change their clothes too.

  FRANK: Who knows? The rest of ’em might even have shoes.

  (CHIP looks down at his flip-flops.)

  CHIP: Shit!

  (He charges off.)

  KRISTEN: It’s me, isn’t it, Margaret?

  MARGARET: What?

  KRISTEN: Frank’s right. They’re coming for the little people. I’m the last one standing in my department, they’re just gonna shut down my whole operation, aren’t they?