“Don’t forget to call your sister back,” Beau tells Kendra, changing topics; “and what would you like for dinner?”
“Surprise me,” she tells him; “but keep it simple and on budget. I’m still worried about your job.”
“Enough worrying about my job,” Beau replies; “I told you I’m not going to get laid off.”
Moonliner 2:03
The dryer weather prompts Beau to walk to work, which is just down the hill from his house and into the heart of Seattle’s Fremont district. He hears a foghorn echo from a ferry crossing distant Elliot Bay. It’s a common Seattle sound though far less frequently heard from Fremont, which gets a lot of maritime traffic from the Ballard locks and ship canal, but smaller vessels with smaller horns.
It’s getting lighter earlier and Beau can once again walk to work in daylight. The sky is partly cloudy with the morning sun putting on a dazzling show of a softly shifting pink and blue atmosphere. The city is awakening.
Beau arrives at work early and takes a little time to check his messages and finish scanning the headlines of his favorite news sites. Stan, a co-worker whose cubical is back to back with Beau’s arrives for work a little early as well. He hands Beau a five dollar bill.
“What’s this for?” Beau asks.
“Sochi,” Stan answers; “the gold medal hockey game.”
“Oh, right,” Beau answers; “thanks, I’d forgotten all about the bet.”
“Have you heard anything around the water cooler?” Stan asks Beau.
“No, but Rachelle in accounting told me that she overheard Carter telling Mike Sterling that the cuts were deep but done,” Beau tells Stan, finger quoting deep but done.
“That’s good to hear, but I’ll still be a lot more comfortable when we go a single Friday without anyone losing their job,” Stan says.
“Yeah me too!” Beau agrees.
Then out of nowhere Sherylin, the young, vibrant office assistant who works directly with the company president, pokes her head around the corner of Beau’s cubical.
“Steve would like to see you in the conference room,” she tells Beau before vanishing down the hall.
Stan’s face drops. He’s too easy to read. They both know what this most likely means and it isn’t good news for Beau, who remains silent.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Stan tells him.
Beau nods at Stan and walks away, slowly down a hallway of dread and into the conference room, where three more of his colleagues are already sitting around a table, anxiously awaiting their fate. Beau remains calm, almost as if he’s already accepted his.
“How are you guys doing?” Beau asks, keeping the mood light.
“Not bad,” Lane answers, another office tech who’s been there three years.
“I’m alright,” Sidell adds, a software programmer for the company.
“Is this what I think it is,” Lane boldly asks the others.
“I think so,” Beau answers; “it’s how the others were told.”
“Companies always fire people on Fridays,” Sidell says.
Rodney, the other remaining guy in the room doesn’t say anything. He just sits silently staring at the table. The others fall silent too. You can hear the seconds tick by on a clock on the wall at the front of the room. Seconds become minutes, and minutes turn into hours.
Finally, in walks Steve Carter, the office manager with a somber look on his face. He sits down at the long conference table with the men. The room is quiet for a moment before Steve lays into the bad news.
“I’m sorry guys,” he says; “due to cutbacks we’ve gotta let you go.” The room stays silent.
“You said yourself that the cuts were done,” Sidell says somewhat angrily.
“I know and I’m sorry,” Carter tells them; “I honestly thought they were.”
After another minute of silence and nothing left to say, the men get up to leave. To their surprise, a security guard is there to escort them out of the building, also part of the company policy. They’re allowed to immediately grab whatever they need from their desks, but are told to schedule a time with the guard to return over the weekend to clean out their desks. Fortunately, Beau has a streamlined desk and is able to grab everything he wants to keep in one swoop. He doesn’t need to return.
“Keep your chin up Beau. There’s gotta be a lot more work out there to find,” Stan tells him as he stuffs his shoulder bag with personal effects.
“Thanks Stan. I’ll be alright,” Beau tells him.
Beau pats Stan on the shoulder, grabs his shoulder bag and takes his final stroll down the office hall with a security guard escort. Outside, the sun has broken through the clouds and the day is warming. Beau takes a deep breath of the fresh ocean air and smiles. An unexpected, warm sensation comes over him, now feeling reborn.
He takes one last hard look at the building in which he’s worked for five years, then walks away. He’s on his way to rendezvous with fellow former co-workers Lane, Sidell, & Rodney for beer, billiards, and a little friendly banter to lighten the mood. Why not? It’s not like he has anywhere to be.
Moonliner 2:04
“Seven in the corner pocket,” Rodney says just before missing his shot.
“You guys are here a little early in the day,” Max, the owner of the bar and grill asks just as he appears in the pool room to take their order.
“We got shit-canned,” Lane says; “let go!”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Max tells them; “Just now?”
“Yes,” Sidell answers; “right after we show up for work.”
“I’ve heard that’s how they do it,” Max says.
The place is largely empty except for a few guys sitting at the bar having breakfast. They’re wearing Dickies overalls and steel-toed boots, as if their work is laborious. Neither of them appears to be interested in conversation. They look tired; not sleepy, just tired, probably facing another hard day of work.
Max starts the jukebox, which randomly selects tunes until somebody overrides it with a paid selection. The machine starts playing Bittersweet Symphony as a young waitress named Kelli brings the jobless pool players their first pitcher of ale. Suddenly, nothing seems urgent anymore.
“Nine years,” Rodney says; “nine long years with the same stinking company. Then one Friday morning my job is gone.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Lane suggests.
“I’m starting to think that it is,” Beau optimistically adds; “we’ll find something better out there. It’s nothing to take personally; we’re all good at what we do. It’s a shifting industry.”
“I hope you guys are right; I just bought a new condo,” Rodney adds.
The sun breaks from behind a cloud, lighting up the room. Parched from years of corporate exploitation, the men sink the first pitcher within a few short minutes. They flag Keli down and request a second, along with an order of macho nachos. Time is losing meaning by the moment. A few more people enter the place, then seat themselves at a table by the window.
“They’re farming the tech section out to a company in India is what I heard,” Sidell says, leaning on his pool cue, holding a pint.
“That so blows,” Lane says, lining up a shot. Seconds later, he sinks the two in the side pocket.
“Have any of you followed any job leads lately?” Beau asks the others.
“No, but there’s a NeoTech tradeshow in Vancouver next weekend. There’s also a webinar in a few weeks, and a firmware trade fair here sometime in March,” Sidell says; “and it’s your shot,” he tells Beau.
“Are we shooting the eight?” Beau asks Rodney. Rodney nods yes. Beau slowly lines up to drop the eight in the corner. It’s not a straight shot by any means. In fact, it’s about a thirty-five degree angle. After two minutes of careful alignment, the line is in his sight and he’s finally ready to shoot. Lined up, he rolls his head sideways to look at the guys, then smiles wide and sinks a no-look shot.
“That was closer this time,” Lane says. �
�Shall I rack em’?”
A few hours later, the men step out of the bar.
“Cause every little things gonna be alright,” Rodney and Lane sing along with Bob Marley and the blaring jukebox.
Once outside, the door shuts behind them, entombing their good time and landing them back in the jobless world, now not only with the reality of losing a job, but an impending hangover as well.
The men stand outside the bar laughing and chatting for several minutes, down inside not wanting to face their wives or families. Finally, they go their separate ways. Beau, already closer than to home than any of them, decides to hang around the area before walking home.
Moonliner 2:05
Beau walks along the ship canal. A tug boat floats by pulling a large empty barge. The air and water are both still and calm. The trees on both sides of the canal reflect off the water’s surface, creating a scenic illusion. He pauses to take it in.
He takes a seat on a bench beneath the towering Aurora Bridge as the sun once again breaks from behind a cloud, causing the water to sparkle and shimmer. It’s what Beau needs; a moment to think. A family of ducks swims by along the canal’s edge.
A ship’s air-horn sounds, signaling operators in the tower of the Fremont Bridge, a smaller draw bridge just beside the Aurora Bridge, to raise the bridge. Seattle is a maritime city and ships have right of way. Bridge operators hear the ship’s air-horn and sound the alarm to warn cars that the bridge will soon go up. After about a minute of alarm, the gates drop to stop traffic and the bridge quickly rises high and upright into the sky. A long sailing yacht with a tall mast makes its way between the drawn arms. Beau watches it motor under the Aurora Bridge, past the houseboats and onto Lake Union before disappearing from view. The draw bridge goes back down and traffic begins once again to flow over it.
Beau sits with his head in his hands, letting reality sink in; the reality that he’d lost his job. The sound of the city is muzzled from his spot beneath the bridge. It almost sounds like a distant river, or wind through mountain pines.
Moonliner 2:06
After several minutes of introspection, Beau decides to walk home. He heads straight up the hill and past the troll on his way, working some of the alcohol out of his system.[6] Once home, he walks into his house to find Kendra lying on the sofa, reading a book.
“How was your day?” she asks; “aren’t you home a little early?”
“My day was nice,” Beau answers; “we got off a little early today.”
Kendra gets off the sofa to start dinner. She gives Beau a little kiss on her way to the kitchen, then pauses for a second.
“Have you been drinking?” she asks him, smelling beer on him.
Beau doesn’t respond, but Kendra is no fool. She soon connects the dots.
“You lost your job, didn’t you?” she asks.
Again Beau doesn’t respond. Silence, however, is guilt in this situation. Kendra approaches him, stares deeply into his eyes, and hugs him. She holds him tightly. Beau puts his arms around her and they embrace.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers; “we’ll make it through this.”
The two begin to kiss again, which soon escalates into passionate, hungry kissing. Dropping everything, they make their way to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.
Moonliner 2:07
After a cold, wet, snow-dusted weekend, Beau is feeling rested. He’s excited at the dawning of a new week, one that has come with a renewed spirit and greater optimism. Unfortunately, it has also come with a splitting headache.
Beau sits waiting anxiously alone in an office, across from an empty desk. He watches a black crow out the window as it tries to carry what looks like the flattened carcass of a dead rat, or maybe a squirrel off the street. It takes his mind off his impending interview.
Suddenly, through the door walks Marc Niborn, general manager of TriBot, a small but rapidly expanding software developing company. Beau stands to shake his hand and the two exchange greetings. Wasting no time, Marc takes a seat at his desk, across from Beau. He opens a folder sitting in front of him and starts perusing Beau’s resume.
“Impressive,” Marc says without even looking up as he reads carefully over the document.
“Thanks,” Beau responds.
“What kind or work or position are you looking for with TriBot?” Marc asks.
“IT management,” Beau answers, leaving it at that.
“I see,” Marc says, closing the folder; “I’ll be frank with you. I just came from a board meeting and it looks like we’re relocating our IT division.”
“To where?” Beau asks.
“I can’t answer that,” Marc says; “it’s proprietary and I’ve already said too much. I will keep your resume on file though should plans change, but we honestly don’t have anything for you at the moment.”
“I see,” Beau answers. “Well thanks for your time.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Marc replies. “I wish I could be of more assistance and good luck with your search.”
Pulling out of TriBot’s parking lot, Beau dials in some news on his car radio.
“Nearly 400 opponents of the Keystone XL oil pipeline were arrested Sunday in front of the White House, marking what could be the largest youth sit-in on the environment in a generation. Students from more than 80 colleges rallied at Georgetown University and then marched to the White House, where some unfurled a black tarp and lay on the sidewalk to create a "human oil spill." Hundreds locked themselves to the White House fence before being arrested.
“Thousands of opposition protesters to Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro marched and then clashed with police Sunday in the capital Caracas. At least 17 people have died in Venezuela’s worst unrest in a decade.
“In China, a group of people armed with knives attacked a crowded railway station in the southwestern city of Kunming on Saturday, killing at least 29 people and wounding 143. The Chinese government is blaming the attack on Muslim Uyghur separatists and police have begun rounding up Uyghurs for questioning.”
Beau pulls into the parking lot of another office building, parks his car, and takes a long look into his rear view mirror. He puts a few eye drops in and dissolves a breath strip on his tongue. Head still splitting, he opens the door to his Prius, gets out, and walks into the building.
Minutes later, a different manager is telling him that he doesn’t have a position for him right now, but to check back in the summer if he still doesn’t have anything. He tells Beau that he’ll keep his resume on file. The two shake hands and Beau leaves the office.
Across town ninety minutes later, just after lunch, Beau is told for the third time in a day, that there’s nothing available in IT at this time. His optimism hits an all-time low, only to sink even lower after being shot down at his fourth job inquiry of the day minutes later just a few blocks away.
Driving home, Beau pounds on his steering wheel with both fists, pissed off that all of his early prospects have failed to pan out. His cell phone rings. He sees that it’s Kendra and puts her on speaker.
“Hi Kendra,” he says.
“How goes the hunt?” she asks.
“It has sucked thus far,” Beau answers. “How’s your day going?”
“Oh, up and down,” Kendra tells him; “I have to stay an extra hour tonight to cover for Stu. I’ll be home around six-thirty.”
“That’s fine,” Beau replies; “I’ll put dinner on.”
“Thanks, that’s sweet of you!” Kendra says. “I’ve gotta get back to work. See you tonight,” she tells him.
Beau pulls into the driveway of their home, grabs his mail from the box and goes inside. Once inside, he grabs a diet coke from the fridge and starts opening his mail. He hits the blinking play button on his answering machine.
“You have one new message,” it says.
“Beau, this is Trevor Spalding with Microbyte,” the message says. “I got your email inquiring about the two positions we posted. Your resume looks outstanding,
but we’ve unfortunately already filled both positions we posted. We encourage you to check back with us periodically as we do sometimes have to quickly fill an opening. Best of luck.”
That one was the final straw; the camel’s back is broken. Counting these two at Microbyte, that’s six job leads shot down in a single day. It’s typically Beau who keeps his head up in trying times, but whatever fuels that side of him is spent today, thoroughly exhausted. Steamed beyond capacity, he takes the handset off the phone base and pitches it with everything he’s got into the soft back of his sofa.
“What next?” he yells to himself, feeling the pressure; “fucking hell!”
Moonliner 2:08
“I really don’t wanna go,” Beau tells Kendra as he stands in front of his bathroom mirror looking depressed.
“You should,” she answers; “you’ve always said that NeoTech is your best shot at landing a job,” Kendra reminds him.
“I have said that,” Beau responds, glancing off into the distance to recall.
“Besides, it’ll give you a chance to leave a message under the stone in the park for the man in the future to find,” Kendra says with a smile.
Moonliner: No Stone Unturned Page 6