Mickey and a box

Layoffs were rampant and office chatter had reached critical mass. By late September all of us were fearful of the the dreaded visit by “Mickey and a box,” the grim reaper of Epsom Systems Incorporated. This colorful term was coined by Paul in accounts receivable, an observant nod to the fact that each layoff was bookended by Mickey (and a large box) making a visit to the unfortunate individuals cubicle or office. What then followed was the solemn process of said individual placing all things of personal value, maybe some decrees of merit or some gifts from fellow colleagues, into said box. This rather somber affair always concluded with Mickey escorting our most recently fallen comrade through the front lobby and past my office, which was just North of the main entrance. For some reason I was always in my office when Mickey marched by with his latest victim. I would feebly avert my eyes and just stare at something that wasn’t there. Sometimes I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement, but I could never look up and face the truth. I did lock eyes once with Gina Matuse. I liked Gina more than I should have. She smiled and winked at me. She also made Mickey carry the box.

I must confess that I really had no fear personally of getting the visit from our box wielding maintenance engineer. Mickey was my fathers childhood friend from Shaker Heights, and my father was Neil Epsom, big man on campus. No early onset job insecurity for me. I toiled for my position here the old fashioned way, abject nepotism! Sure I commiserated with my fellow colleagues about the current state of affairs, but that was just interoffice theater. I wasn’t going anywhere and I knew it.

The company was founded by my Mother and Father almost thirty years ago. Long story short, Mom worked while Dad developed the bullet rain gutter system in a small apartment that was more warehouse than humble abode. It eventually became the cornerstone of our business model, even though we have branched out into water redistribution systems for commercial and government use as well. Also, as acquisitions manager I can safely say we have been looking into the prospect of foreign markets opening up, especially in area’s where torrential rain events are becoming more common. While Dad was just so-so when it came to being Mr. Mom and raising a kid, he was really good at developing high capacity pumps that could take unwanted water coming in at a really fast pace, turn it around, and get it out at an equally fast pace.

And speaking of fast pace, by early October the mighty were falling fast. When Don Lento marched past with Mickey, he was holding his box like an after thought. Don was a sixteen year guy and our shipping and receiving manager. We used to golf together a lot before his kids were born. I just stared at my phone when he passed. Next was Nancy Sprow, marketing director. Nancy was a rock who helped build the company from the onset with my Mom and Dad. I couldn’t just let her walk on by. I carried the box for her and told Mickey I would handle security from that point. At her car I could see she was trying to contain her emotions.

“Thanks Jordan.” She said.

“For what?”

“ For carrying my box and telling Mickey to take a hike.”

Nancy hugged me hard after that. It was one of those hugs that stay with you long after. As

I walked back to my office I felt my cowardly work habits give way to a new work ethic. I decided then and there to run with it.

Barney Semple was of retirement age but didn’t look it. Took real good care of himself. He worked in acquisitions like myself. I asked him to sit down when he entered my office but he chose to pace, which was at odds with his steady and deliberate manner.

"I know I'm next. You probably already know, right?"

"Next for what Barney?"

“Mickey and a box. Don’t patronize me Jordan!”

Barney quickly sat down and stood up again, arms folded as if he were putting himself in a straight jacket.

“It’s the damn waiting. That’s what really gets to me.”

I didn’t like seeing Barney like this. It was like he was aging right in front of me.

“You’re waiting for something that isn’t going to happen.” I said.

“I won’t be able to just.... what? Retire? Stay home? C’mon Jordy, you know me.”

I did know Barney. I knew him for over twenty years. He was here before me. And he was

right, he needed the job. Not for money, not for security but for sanity. He didn’t have anyone at home. Wife had passed. No children. A nephew in California and siblings in Arizona whom he never spoke of unless you asked. He loved the people he worked with and they were the reason he came to work every day. I looked into his eyes and I could see the desperation, the truth.

“Don’t worry Barney. It’s all good.”

“So you’re going to talk to him.?

“I’ll talk to him.”

Barney exhaled, decompressed, and seemed to fold, in a good way. His eyes were a bit

misty.

“Thanks.” He walked out with better posture than when he came in.

I looked around the office. Almost twenty years here at Epsom. Didn’t even have to finish college, the job was just waiting for me on a silver platter. I looked to my wife Jenny’s photo, the only one on my desk, for guidance. This time her smile seemed to say “we got this.” I touched each picture of our daughters Carrie and Angie. Better late than never, I thought to myself as I surrendered to my own metamorphosis. I smiled big, wide and deep inside. After a moment of remembrance for my fallen colleagues and a shout out for their dutiful service, I collected all my personal belongings and started to pack. I didn’t need Mickey and I had my own box.