Pulpy and Midge

by Jessica Westhead

  ‘They let you wear jeans?’ said Pulpy.

  ‘Uh huh. At the start we had to wear suit pants, but then I said to Al – I was the one who said it – “I’m not getting down under desks and wearing suit pants because do you know what it’s like under there? It’s dusty as hell down there. Unless,” I said, “you want to buy the suit pants for me.” That shut him up like a clam. So now we wear jeans.’

  The man’s rear end wiggled as he worked. Pulpy looked away.

  ‘That ought to do it.’ The man stood up again. ‘Give her a go.’

  Pulpy got back into his chair, and something on the man beeped. Pulpy jumped a little.

  The man from Building Maintenance glanced down at his pager, then back at Pulpy. ‘That’s me. Mind if I use your phone?’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Pulpy pulled out the keyboard tray and the man picked up his phone. Pulpy frowned. The tray was lower now.

  ‘Yeah?’ said the man into the receiver. ‘It’s Davis here.’

  He pushed his knees up and the tray rattled and clicked. He put his knees down and felt the edges of the tray pressing hard against his thighs.

  ‘It’s Davis, I said. Yeah.’

  ‘Um,’ said Pulpy.

  ‘So what’s the call? Who’s calling?’

  Pulpy tried to get his hands in between his legs and the keyboard but there wasn’t enough room.

  ‘Over there? What’s their problem? Do you even know who you paged? You paged me, and I’m Davis.’

  ‘You did it the wrong way,’ said Pulpy.

  Davis didn’t acknowledge this. ‘Okay,’ he said into the phone, ‘so you do have the right guy, because that’s me. There’s also Richards, but he’s off today. I’m the one who’s on, and I’m Davis.’

  Pulpy sighed and sat there with the tray on his legs.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah. I’m on my way.’ Davis put the phone down. ‘So you’re all set here, then?’

  ‘Well, actually –’

  ‘Do you know what they said on the other end there? They didn’t even know –’ Davis shook his head. ‘People are ignorant. They don’t even know who they’re calling when they call. I had to tell them, can you beat that?’ He hitched up his jeans and headed for the door.

  ‘So –’ said Pulpy.

  ‘It was good meeting you, fellow,’ said Davis. ‘You need that tray looked at again, you just give me a buzz. You know where I live.’ And he winked.

  ‘I guess I do, yes.’

  Davis gave Pulpy a quick salute, and then he was gone.

  Pulpy looked at the empty space where the man from Building Maintenance had been standing, and he pushed the tray back in again.

  Pulpy went to the Coffee Island on his break.

  ‘Hi,’ he said to the girl behind the counter. ‘Roco-Coco, please, and a dozen doughnuts.’

  ‘Sorry, we’re all out of the R-C.’ She shoved aside the leaves of the inflatable palm tree by the cash register. ‘That’s always the first kind to go. Every morning. I told my boss, “Buy more Roco-Coco. They all like that kind.” But he keeps on buying the same stock every month. He doesn’t listen to me.’

  ‘But you’re the one dealing with the public,’ said Pulpy. ‘You’re the front-line staff.’

  ‘Exactly! You know what I’m talking about.’ She shook her head and her ponytail flew. ‘I can do you a Bongo Berry, how does that sound?’

  ‘Sounds good.’ He watched her manoeuvre around the palm tree to pour his coffee and pack his doughnuts. ‘Why don’t you move that tree somewhere else?’

  ‘I tried. He moved it back. Bosses – what can you do? That’ll be six-seventy, please.’

  ‘You said it.’ Pulpy handed her the money. ‘Bosses.’

  ‘What about them?’ said a voice behind Pulpy.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said the counter girl.

  Pulpy turned to see Dan waving at him from the cream and sugar.

  There was the cream-and-sugar side, or the milk-and-sweetener side, which was where you ended up if you weren’t fast enough. Pulpy was never fast enough.

  He watched Dan wielding the carton of half-and-half amid the throng of clerical staff that always encircled the coffee fixings, their shoulders working as they stirred.

  Dan emerged with his mug held high. He was wearing the bulky shearling coat Pulpy had seen in the closet earlier. ‘Whew! You gotta be a bull in there!’ he said, jerking his rectangle head back at the circle.

  Pulpy gave a half-shrug and looked down at the dark liquid in his Styrofoam cup, already turning cold.

  ‘You should get yourself a proper mug,’ said Dan. ‘Bulls need real mugs.’

  ‘I guess they do.’ Pulpy found himself nodding.

  Dan’s mug was red with white lettering. ‘Back off – it’s early,’ the mug said. Pulpy wondered if he drank out of that mug all day. ‘The mug makes the man,’ said Dan. ‘Think about that.’

  ‘I’ll bring one from home one of these days,’ said Pulpy.

  ‘Just take one from the staff cupboard. Make it your own.’

  ‘But what if it’s somebody else’s?’

  ‘Whoa now. Bulls don’t think that way, do they?’ Dan took a sip of coffee and swallowed hard. ‘The secretary even has her own mug. If she has a mug, you should have a mug.’

  Pulpy noticed the single crease down the front of each of Dan’s pant legs, how crisp that was. He looked down at his own pleats. Not so crisp.

  ‘I’m bringing in my wife, Beatrice, to keep an eye on that secretary. See how she does things. I want you to meet her, my wife. She’ll be there this afternoon.’

  ‘She sounds nice.’

  ‘Oh, she’s nice all right.’ Dan nodded at Pulpy’s doughnuts. ‘Those for the thing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nice. You married?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You bringing her?’

  Pulpy swirled his black coffee. ‘She’s not feeling well.’

  ‘That’s too bad.’ Dan took a slow sip from his mug. ‘I’ll see you back at the office.’ He nodded at the coffee fixings on his way out the door. ‘Now get in there!’

  ‘So I have to tell you that, oh boy yes, this has certainly been a really good experience for me, being in this place with all of you.’ Al smiled at Pulpy and his fellow employees from the podium at the far end of the boardroom.

  A few paces to Al’s right, Dan smoothed the arms of his suit.

  Pulpy was standing at the back, near the doors and the food table. His box of doughnuts had been placed next to the vast expanse of ‘Happy Retirement Al!’ cake and a large bowl containing bottles of water and juice.

  ‘But heck, that doesn’t mean I should have to work here, does it? Ha!’

  Everyone in the room laughed, except for Dan. Then he gave a belated ‘Ho-ho!’ that reverberated after the other laughs had died away.

  ‘The way I see it, everyone’s too focused on business and spending these days,’ said Al. ‘And all these people are watching this reality TV, but I’m at the point where I’m ready for my own reality, you know?’ He blinked at the assembled workers.

  Someone near the back shouted, ‘We love you, Al!’

  ‘Well.’ Al’s smile widened. ‘I’m going to miss all of you, very much.’

  There were a few scattered ‘Awws,’ and then Al had to raise his voice as the room burst into applause. ‘But business and spending are still the reality at this office, and now with Dan here at the helm there’s no telling how far you’ll go!’

  ‘We’re going to pick up where you left off, Al, that’s what we’re going to do!’ Dan stepped over and put an arm around Al’s shoulders, and the room fell silent. ‘Hello, everyone, I’m Dan. And let me be the first to reassure you all that although I may be new in town, I am certainly not new as far as knowing what my responsibilities are, and where they lie.’

  ‘Psst, Pulpy, over here.’

  Pulpy turned his head, and Roy from Customer Service handed him a piece of cake on a small paper plate. Pulpy mouthed ‘Than
k you’ and took it before he realized that the usual time for cake cutting and distributing was after the speeches, and that Roy probably wasn’t supposed to be doing this now.

  ‘I also like to help,’ said Dan. ‘I did a lot of helping at my previous job, and as a result I made some really good friends there and we still communicate. Workplace camaraderie is key. It’s key to everything.’

  Pulpy’s piece of cake appeared to be chocolate with some type of nuts in it. He’d gotten the exclamation mark on his frosting.

  Roy was handing out forks now. Pulpy debated accepting his.

  ‘I used to work in a building that had mirrored glass. Mirrored glass, and a lot of floors. And windows everywhere.’ Dan was alone at the podium now – Al had moved away.

  ‘Pulpy?’ said Roy.

  ‘Oh,’ Pulpy whispered. ‘Thanks.’ He took the fork.

  ‘I would look out those windows and think, “There’s a whole world out there.” And then I’d think, “Hey, there’s a whole world in here.” And that is what we’re all about.’

  All around him, Pulpy’s co-workers were eating. He speared a hunk of cake and brought it to his lips.

  ‘Just a side note – I’m sure you’ve all seen the refreshments on the back table,’ said Dan, and Pulpy raised a hand to cover his bulging cheeks. ‘There will be cake, and drinks, and doughnuts, after we’re done up here. But first I’d like to say a little something about teamwork and mutual respect.’

  Pulpy ducked behind the crowd to finish chewing.

  Dan’s speech went on for another half-hour, and when it was over Pulpy headed for the men’s room. On his way there he passed the receptionist at her desk, stapling.

  ‘Why aren’t you in the boardroom?’ he asked her. ‘There’s cake.’

  ‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘I’m collating here.’

  He waited while she stapled two sets of papers together, and then she looked up at him. ‘I wasn’t invited. That was my first introduction to the new boss. “Hi, I’m Dan, your new supervisor. Oh, and by the way, we need you to cover the desk during the retirement function.” Yeah, thanks. Plus I’m supposed to know when they’re doing a cake, because I always pick them out. What kind is it? Is there any filling?’

  ‘It’s a chocolate one,’ he said. ‘I think it has hazelnuts in it.’

  ‘Nuts aren’t a filling.’

  ‘Well, they’re inside somewhere. I heard.’

  ‘A filling is like cream. Or jelly. Is there jelly?’

  Pulpy shook his head. ‘No one said anything about jelly.’

  The receptionist frowned. ‘I’m supposed to know when they do a cake.’

  ‘I’m sure it was some kind of oversight.’

  ‘Yeah.’ The receptionist resumed her stapling. ‘I’m sure it was.’

  Pulpy nodded and hurried down the hall, his tongue digging at a bit of hazelnut in one of his molars.

  ‘Pulpy, this is my wife, Beatrice,’ said Dan at the party that followed the speeches. The party was also in the boardroom, except there were balloons now.

  ‘Hi, Beatrice.’ Pulpy shook Dan’s wife’s hand and her long fingernails jabbed into his palm. She was wearing a sleeveless top covered in buckles that seemed to have no practical purpose.

  ‘Hi … Pulpy?’ Beatrice had dark, chin-length hair that was mostly straight, with a few strands jutting out in various directions. The effect unsettled him.

  ‘It’s a nickname,’ said Dan. ‘Isn’t it great?’

  ‘What does it mean?’ she said, and at the same time she looked Pulpy up and down, starting at his feet.

  Pulpy’s hands flattened out and he pressed them to his sides. No one had ever looked him up and down like that before. ‘It’s to do with orange juice.’

  ‘Ah.’ Beatrice nodded, still looking.

  ‘How’d you like my speech, Pulpy?’ said Dan.

  ‘Oh, fine. It was a fine speech.’

  ‘People were already eating the cake, can you believe that? They’d eaten half of it before Al walked over with the special knife.’ Dan frowned. ‘I said they’d get cake. I said they’d get it at the end.’

  ‘It was a delicious cake,’ said Pulpy. ‘I heard.’

  ‘Beatrice picked it out. She knows how to pick a winner, ha!’

  Beatrice rolled her eyes. She pointed her doughnut at Pulpy. ‘These are really good. Dan says you brought them?’

  ‘Oh, well, it’s nothing. They’re just doughnuts.’

  ‘Mmm. Well, they are yummy.’ She licked some powdered sugar off her bottom lip and popped the last bite into her mouth.

  Pulpy’s eyes widened a little and he quickly turned to admire the shiny red ‘You Made It!!’ balloons taped up in the corners of the boardroom. Then he took a deep breath and looked back at Dan. ‘I don’t think the receptionist got an invitation to this.’

  ‘That’s the way it goes,’ said Dan. ‘Somebody has to cover the desk.’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t want to come,’ said Beatrice.

  ‘But she should’ve been invited,’ said Pulpy.

  ‘Must’ve been an oversight.’ Dan shrugged. ‘I told you I’m bringing Beatrice in, didn’t I?’

  ‘We’ll get things sorted out,’ said Beatrice.

  ‘We’re doing an overhaul,’ said Dan. ‘I like the way that sounds.’

  Pulpy noticed that one of Dan’s big square hands was clamped around a plastic water bottle and his other hand was just opening and closing around nothing. ‘Overhaul?’

  Beatrice made a face for him, squishing out her lips and shaking her head.

  Dan chuckled. ‘Beatrice is calling it a makeover but I’m going with overhaul. Overhaul says everything we need to say.’

  ‘What, uh –’ Pulpy’s voice hitched, and he swallowed. ‘What do you need to say?’

  ‘Hey, there’s the man of the hour!’ Dan waved across the room to Al, who was kissing his wife under some of the balloons and a banner that read ‘Congratulations Al! Relax, Enjoy, Celebrate!’

  ‘Oh, will you look at that,’ said Beatrice. ‘Old and still in love.’

  ‘Pulpy has a wife,’ said Dan.

  ‘Do you now?’ Beatrice said to Pulpy. ‘Well, just look at you – how could you not?’

  ‘Um,’ said Pulpy.

  ‘So what do you say, Pulpy?’ said Dan. ‘Are you excited about the regime change? Out with the old and all that?’

  Pulpy looked at his old boss frolicking under his decorations. He’d written ‘Spread your wings and fly!’ in Al’s retirement card, hoping it would jog his memory, but Al hadn’t opened the envelope yet and by the time he did, he wouldn’t be in charge anymore. ‘In with the new,’ he said, and blinked in the glare of Dan and Beatrice’s white grins.

  When Pulpy got home, Midge had the fireplace video going.

  He stood in front of their small TV set and watched the flames dance across the screen, and then Midge was behind him.

  ‘I pulled the space heater up,’ she said. ‘For added effect.’

  Pulpy looked down at their little square heater pushing orange warmth out of its criss-crossed wires.

  ‘It’s a new video. I had to buy a new one because the last one was wearing out. Even with the head cleaner.’

  ‘It looks the same,’ he said.

  ‘That’s the best part! You can’t tell.’

  ‘It’s a good video.’

  Midge took a step back. ‘Don’t say video.’

  ‘What? But you said video.’

  ‘Not once we get into it. Once you get into it you have to pretend.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Did you eat? Because I bought this new product – it’s a way to make a whole meal all in foil. And then you just throw the foil away afterwards with no fuss and no scrubbing!’

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Pulpy, ‘but I had a bunch of doughnuts.’

  ‘Sit on the rug with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll play you something.’

  They sat on their rug and Midge pulled their new electronic keyboard o
ut from under the coffee table. She frowned down at the array of buttons along the top, then pressed one. A mournful string of notes drifted out of the tinny speaker.

  ‘That’s not a very happy song,’ he said. ‘I usually think of keyboard music as more uplifting.’

  ‘That must be the dirigible. The man at the store said there was one in there. Dirigibles aren’t supposed to be happy.’

  ‘I think you mean a dirge,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, yes, a dirge. What did I say?’

  He smiled. ‘You said a dirigible. A dirigible is a boat.’

  She flung her hand at him. ‘Oh, you music people with your music knowledge.’

  ‘I’m not a music person,’ he said. ‘I work in an office.’

  ‘If you make music and you’re a person, then you’re a music person. Here, let me find you something more tinkly.’ She ran her thumbs over the keys. ‘It played the prettiest ballad earlier.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I believe you.’

  ‘Look at me, I’m hogging it!’ She lifted the keyboard and put it in his lap. ‘Go ahead – experiment!’

  Pulpy felt the weight of the keyboard on his legs, and thought of Dan, and Dan’s wife, who along with Dan was going to do an overhaul. He put the keyboard on the floor. ‘I guess I’m just not feeling very musical right now, Midge, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh.’ She slid the keyboard back under the coffee table. ‘Well, that’s okay.’

  They watched the fire on TV together for a while and then he said, ‘Al never said anything.’

  Midge moved closer to him. ‘Oh, Pulpy.’

  Pulpy stared at the embers. He felt tired and soft. ‘How could he forget?’

  ‘And the new boss didn’t say anything?’

  ‘He said some things, but not about the promotion.’

  ‘Well,’ said Midge, ‘I bet it’s only a matter of time.’

  He looked at her hopeful face and imagined he could see the yellow glow reflected there. ‘You’re warm,’ he said, touching her arm.

  ‘It’s because of the fire,’ she said, and her hands rose up and flickered in the light.