The Meeting: Part One

Before I forget again, here is the story fragment I've promised. It's actually been sitting there for about five days. I kept telling myself to edit it, but I never got to that point, so there may be some mistakes/ awkwardness. It's a bit lengthy, but I couldn't find a good place to chop it off at, so I've left it how it is.

***

I sat there staring at the box of Tim Horton’s donuts, trying to decide whether or not to take my third honey cruller. It was tempting, but this was a business meeting, and it wouldn’t seem very prudent to act like I was only here for the food. But then again, who wasn’t? Jane had strategically shifted her red plastic chair so that the coffee machine by the back window was at a huggable distance; her new seatmates were the sugar and milk bins. She usually went through at least four cups a day, always with three milk and two sugars. Andrew had been slowly pulling the cookie platter towards himself a millimetre at a time, his eyes darting around nervously as though performing an act of public indecency. Adrian was stealing macaroons under the pretence of offering them to others, and Don wasn’t even bothering to hold back. He was belting down anything edible as though he’d been locked in the loo for a few days, though with his brains, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually had been.

These observations comforted me, and before the guilt could resurface, a white chocolate macadamia cookie magically appeared in my hand. The meeting hadn’t even started yet, and three platters of sweets were MIA. Noticing that the liquid inside the coffee dispenser had vanished instantly last meeting, the managers had realized that perhaps two is better than one, and so this time, they’d added a juice jug as well. Unsurprisingly, the fluid level in the juice container was still quite full, while the coffee had to be replaced by another dispenser about two minutes after people started settling in.

A bunch of important looking guys wearing expensive Hugo Boss, Armani, and other every designer you could think of strode unwaveringly to the back of the room where the not-so-important coffee machine (in my opinion, as I despised coffee) sat on a small table beside Jane, who clearly thought of the contrary as her expression turned from interest to sheer horror as they each took a cup and began serving themselves. She looked as though she’d been condemned to Hell as one of them (my supervisor) asked her to move up towards the large table everyone else was clustered around. Muttering darkly to nobody in particular, she dragged her chair along the ground so that the leg intentionally scraped across one of the Important’s dress shoes. I rolled my eyes, and noticed that I was now holding a peanut butter cookie. It’s interesting how automatic some actions can be. As I bathed myself in the salty-sweet flavour with strong hints of real butter, Eden, our new project manager walked into the room, once again wearing as little as the dress code would allow. She had only been given the position yesterday, as our old manager had become too ill to continue working, or so he claimed. When she had walked through our floor, heads turned from behind every cubicle.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Don had smiled as he looked up from his computer. I remember telling him to shut up and get back to programming, while secretly stealing glances every half a second, silently begging her to take her time.

Presently, I shot a look at Don, whose expression had become hypnotized the second he had noticed her. Bits of chocolate cake were falling from his mouth onto the table, much to the disgust of his seatmates. I shook my head and sighed, lifting my Styrofoam cup to take a draught of orange juice. Eden looked around at the audience, took a deep breath, and began to speak.

“Alright, everyone, our meeting is about to –”

PFFFFFFFFFFT!!!! Oh… SHIT! I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. As soon as she started speaking, Don’s face lit up with the most skanky smile I’d ever seen, and there was a lot of liquid in my mouth. The table was instantly covered in a spray of warm orange juice, and so was everyone sitting across from me. There were a few cries of surprise as people realized what just hit them. Then for a split second, there was silence, and in that split second, I wished that I were a wizard and could Disapparate. I even tried hoping. No such luck. All eyes were on me now, as if I were hosting the meeting. I didn’t need to look up to know that. Instead, I stared at the table, my face flushed like a stop sign, noticing that the full tray of cookies in front of me didn’t look quite as appetizing anymore, covered in light orange shades.

“Mr. Wilson, are you alright?” asked my supervisor.

“...Yes,” was all I could manage. Then, “I’m fine. Sorry.” But I wasn’t fine at all. I had just completely humiliated myself in front of all the Importants, as well as my co-workers. Now Eden would never look at me again...

Several people with stained clothes excused themselves from the table and sped towards the washroom, and there was an awkward silence as my face continued to transform into a red giant star.

“Well, now that we’re missing quite a few people, why don’t we wait a few minutes before continuing?” suggested Eden. She attempted to sound as though nothing at all had happened as she dropped a small stack of paper towels beside me, but in my head I imagined her eyes accusing me of being the source of all of her problems. I was mortified, and it was all because of Don. That stupid pig. I was getting more and more pissed off at that slacker. As a matter of fact, I was so infuriated that my leg began to vibrate. Then I realized that my “leg vibrations” weren’t coming from my leg at all. Someone had just texted me. Still not looking up, I reached into my dress pant pocket for my Blackberry. My hands were shaking, and so as I lifted my phone up, I dropped it onto the sugar-water covered desk. I swore rather loudly, and my face began to pulse again as heads turned towards me. I shook off as much juice as I could, and then wiped it with a paper towel.

YOU HAVE RECEIVED A NEW TEXT MESSAGE

CHECK IGNORE

I checked it. It was from Jane.

lol, have fun w/ the rest of the meeting! :D

I promptly texted back.

shut up

“Uh, Mr. Wilson, maybe you should clean that up. It’s starting to drip onto the carpet,” Eden commented, looking worried.

Great. Now she thought I was irresponsible too. It’s not my fault I was momentarily distracted. Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I started wiping at the table with the whole stack. Two seconds later, I realized that it would have been smarter to separate the layers. Another two seconds, and I noticed her eyes on me with a slightly disdainful look. Ehhhhh...

***