Trash Talk

by Robert Gussin

  e r 27

  At five minutes to seven, the four committee members returned to the ballroom lobby where a fairly large number of meeting participants waited outside the closed ballroom doors. Arnie, fortified by his one martini, was in a jovial mood and loudly proclaimed, “For all of you overanxious party goers who have a large thirst and a grand appetite, I have come to save you and open the doors to the feast.”

  Amidst a cheer from the group, Arnie flung open the double doors at the main entrance, and he gasped.

  “Holy shit,” exclaimed Jordy as the crowd, about to enter, stopped.

  “Oh my God,” cried Pam, “we’ve been sabotaged!”

  The sight they viewed was far different from an hour earlier. The bright rotating mirrored ornament was not rotating, and the spotlights were off. Instead, the room was dimly lit by red spotlights that flooded the room with a dim, eerie glow that made it difficult to clearly see in any great detail. But it was obvious that tables and floor were strewn with garbage. Chairs were overturned and even the bars and the hors d’oeuvres table were covered with what appeared to be pieces of fruit, tin cans, and other assorted debris.

  Arnie was speechless and even felt tears well up in his eyes.

  There was a silence among the group.

  Even Rama Schriff, Arnie’s boss, who had been anxious to come to the closing banquet, was stunned and once again, his Indian accent became exaggerated. “Oh my goodness gracious,” he said softly, “this looks worse than a Calcutta back street. Oh my, I am thinking that I might just go over to the Boat House and have a calming libation. I know that you will handle this, Arnie. You are a good man.” And he left, mumbling to himself, “Oh my goodness, Oh my goodness.”

  One of the environmentalists, a small woman from Philadelphia, burst into tears and sobs. “How could someone do such a terrible thing?” she wailed. “It must have been some right-wing antienvironmentalists.”

  “Maybe someone has a gripe against athletes,” said a six foot seven basketball player.

  Slowly, the crowd, led by Arnie, Pam, Melissa, and Jordy, began to move through the door into the dimly lit room.

  Suddenly, bright lights came on and a group of about twenty people came rushing from the service area. At the same time people began to pop up from behind banquet tables, the bar, and the food table.

  “Surprise!” they started shouting as they rushed out with plastic bags and plastic garbage cans and began retrieving the fake plastic garbage and trash that had been placed around the room.

  Within a minute or two, as the stunned group of observers stood just inside the door, the whooping gang of athletes and environmentalists that had perpetrated the practical joke, led by Chuck Barkey, Sterling Parsche, and Bill Gladly, had removed all the “props,” returned the lighting to normal, and the room looked as beautiful as it had when the committee had seen it earlier.

  Chuck Barkey stepped forward facing the entering crowd. “Welcome to our banquet. We thought that you would get a kick out of our little joke. Hey, Arnie, relax. Somebody better hold him up so he doesn’t faint.”

  Gladly and Parsche ran over and held Arnie up.

  Everyone laughed, but Arnie and his committee members were still breathing heavily as the mirrored ball began to rotate and a string quartet that had appeared in the back corner of the room began to play.

  “Don’t look so worried, Arnie,” Parsche said. “We borrowed the garbage props from the Ringling Museum and some of us athletes pitched in for the quartet. So let’s have a great time!”

  The remaining crowd pushed into the ballroom and stormed the bars and the hors d’oeuvres table. Everyone was chattering about the prank and was in high spirits.

  Arnie finally took a deep breath and began to laugh. He actually hugged Chuck Barkey although his head rested at Barkey’s chest level. Everyone was happy.

  At 8:00, the group took their seats for dinner, and Arnie went to a podium that was set up at the front of the room. Someone tapped their glass to draw attention to Arnie, and the group quieted.

  Arnie began, “I know that we have our departure breakfast tomorrow morning, but since some of you have early flights and others may prefer to sleep in, I thought that I would make some remarks tonight. First, I can’t thank you all enough for the wonderful participation at all the sessions and at the events. This is a meeting that I will never forget and I certainly think that goes for Pam, Jordy, and Melissa, as well. We particularly won’t forget the garbage prank. I’m still shaking.” The crowd laughed. Mr. Mundhill, who was at a table near the front door with Mr. Schriff and some office employees, just shook his head slowly back and forth. No smile was apparent.

  “I want to especially thank my three fellow committee members and also Chuck Barkey, Randy Wilson, Bernie McCann, and Max Gordon for joining our committee to redo the agenda after we became aware of the confusion about the meeting. I’m not going to go on with a long speech since dinner is being served, but I can say that I never believed the way this meeting started it could have turned out the way it did. I sincerely believe that everyone, environmentalists and athletes, learned a great deal. Thanks to all of you. Maybe we started a new tradition for future meetings. Enjoy your dinner and the rest of the evening.” As Arnie stepped away from the podium, several participants stood as everyone began to applaud and soon the entire group was giving Arnie a standing ovation. Mundhill was standing and Arnie thought he saw a clap or two. Arnie had tears in his eyes as he went to his table. He had never been so touched.

  The dinner was a tremendous success and, although the departure breakfast was pretty well attended, the crowd was a bit subdued as they recovered from the previous night’s festivities. Arnie stood by the dining room door along with Jordy, Pam, and Melissa, and they personally wished each departing attendee the best for the coming year and thanked them for their attendance.

  Chuck Barkey, Too Fat McCann, Randy Wilson, and Max Gordon finished breakfast and were leaving together. As they got to the door, Barkey went to Arnie and gave him a big hug. This time Chuck bent his knees so they were closer to equal size. The rest of the group also hugged and shook hands and all were thanking each other for the exceptional efforts and the wonderful meeting.

  “I’m gonna attend next year,” said McCann, “but wherever it is don’t let me near no water!”

  They all laughed.

  “I think I might attend next year too,” said Wilson.

  “Hey,” exclaimed Barkey, “we all should attend. But Arnie, I got a favor to ask of you.”

  “What is it Chuck? Anything. I’ll do it. I owe you.”

  “Okay, Arnie, once I get back to the Ritz I am going to find out where a special hotel trainee named Leona is going to be assigned next year. I’ll let you know and I want you to use your influence to get the society to hold the meeting in that city. That shouldn’t be a problem for someone as important as you.”

  “You got it buddy. Anything for you. Consider it done,” said Arnie with his shoulders squared and his chest puffed out and they all laughed.

  They had really done it. Arnie could hardly believe it. He, along with the other committee members, truly believed that everyone had benefited from the mixed audience. It was the best. And, thank God, it was over!

  Arnie turned to see Mundhill and Schriff standing behind him. Mundhill had his suitcase in hand.

  “Schwartz,” he said, “I gotta hand it to you. You pulled it off. I’m not thrilled with all the hoopla and crap and in a way I still think I should fire your ass. But I suppose all’s well that ends well. He turned and started to walk away and then turned back to say, “That goes for you too, Schriff,” before continuing on.

  Schriff called out, “Edmund,” and Mundhill stopped and half turned back to face Schriff. “I hope that you learned some things this week, Edmund.”

  “Yeah?” said Mundhill.

  But before he could say more, Rama Schriff continued, “Yes, you saw how much a well-managed, small office can accomplish.�
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  Mundhill lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows over the top of his glasses, peering at Schriff.

  Rama continued, “And Edmund, you should have learned that people of very different backgrounds and interests can appreciate each other and work together and learn from each other.”

  Mundhill slowly nodded his head. Then he turned and began to walk away as he said, “See you around, Schriff.”

  Mr. Schriff turned to Arnie. “Well, Arnie, we did it. I think now I will be taking my vacation. Perhaps a trip to Mumbai and Calcutta and Dehli. You take charge while I’m away.

  Before Arnie could say a word, Mr. Schiff turned and was gone like the wind.

  E P I

  L O G U E

  The following week Arnie and his coworkers were on a tremendous high. What a success. The Sarasota Herald Tribune even had a feature article on Sunday describing the meeting and how it evolved. The headline read: Strange Bedfellows Benefit the Environment. The article described the events leading to the initial confusion, the strange mix of attendees, and the actions to modify the agenda. It held high praise for the Sarasota Environmentalist chapter and particularly for Arnie and his committee. It also provided a highly positive picture of the role of the athletes and gave them a very complimentary review for interest beyond the world of sports.

  This aspect of the article was picked up by several of the news syndicates and write-ups appeared in many newspapers and on several newscasts complimenting professional athletes beyond their sports accomplishments. The meeting even became a prime topic for radio talk show hosts and late night television. In addition, a couple of network news shows mentioned it.

  One newspaper article summed it up, “Only time will tell whether the impact of this type of activity exhibits itself in any behavioral changes in our pro athletes.”

  S I X

  M O N T H S

  L A T E R

  An article appeared in the November 23 issue of the New York Times that was brought to Arnie’s attention. He read it with great curiosity, and he really became choked up as he read.

  About six months ago a little known meeting occurred in Sarasota, Florida. It’s attendance and content were quickly and drastically changed at the last minute because of a fascinating mix-up. This was the National Environmentalist’s annual meeting held this year under the sponsorship of the small Sarasota branch of that organization.

  The article, which started on the front page and continued in the sports section, detailed the meeting, its original intent, the source of the confusion, the efforts to adjust the meeting and it described, in general, how the meeting progressed.

  It went on to state:

  Several newspaper articles that appeared shortly after the meeting provided a description and ended with the thought: would there be any impact on the behavior of pro athletes as a result?

  Well, this writer decided to explore that question now that six months have elapsed. Some of my findings are fascinating.

  At a hockey game in Detroit, where a strange custom has evolved of throwing live octopii (octopuses) on the ice after a Detroit goal, the players are now picking them up and placing them in a large aquarium at one end of the rink so that they can be returned to the sea. The Detroit public relations personnel claim that this bizarre behavior of the fans is now beginning to subside.

  At Giants Stadium in New Jersey, New York Giant football players have been staying on the field for part of the halftime break and again after the game to pick up paper and other debris on the field. Reports claim that litter thrown onto the field has decreased.

  Bud Salen, the commissioner of baseball, has rescinded the rule requiring that brooms, vacuums, and mops be kept at field side in case of emergencies. He claims that since May, the players’ behavior has become so gentlemanly that the burden of extra emergency cleaning paraphernalia is unnecessary.

  Then there was the story of Max Gordon, the Orlando basketball player who attended the Sarasota meeting, urging the non-starters on the Orlando team to sweep and polish the basketball court after each game and, as part of their daily exercise routine, to run through the stands picking up trash.

  All in all, it seems like that little Sarasota meeting had some broadreaching, very positive impact. And this writer has not seen any related negatives. Although, in a recent phone call to Arnie Schwartz, the chairperson of the May meeting, I asked him what he thought of the draft of this article that I sent him prior to publication. He said he thought it was great and if anyone didn’t like it, and I quote Arnie, “Tell them to stick it where the sun won’t burn a hole in the ozone layer.”

  I guess that trash talk is not dead. Here’s to you, Arnie, and all your fellow environmentalists.