The Rules

She watched him, his jowls doglike, a sniffing glance in her direction. His expression–an awkward attempt at an upturned half-hearted smile, while the bottom of his face drooped in disdain towards her. He uncrossed his legs under the conference table, and then crossed them again, shifting his weight side to side as he shuffled his papers in preparation: today’s meeting was the official presentation of The Rules.

There were faint signs of sweat through his shiny suit. His wettish forehead, a beacon to the mid-level career ambitions of his youth, was

an unpleasant reflection of the fluorescent lighting in the stale room. His suit–was it charcoal, or navy? Is that the one he’d worn to the last meeting? Hard to tell. This one had almost a silvery twinkle. His fellow director, a woman sitting to his left, tilted her chin slightly up from the low-cut Kohl’s chiffon and lace business casual set she’d purchased on sale last holiday season. The maroon shade had been so pure when she’d bought it. She’d made a mental note to avoid wash and wear professional clothing in future purchase decisions. Live and learn.

The tired and matted office carpet made it hard to roll his chair out from under the table as he rose to speak, the white board behind him, reflecting his shiny suit back to all of them. Everyone pretended to not notice the stains in the carpet, their maplike shapes, proudly sprawling out from under the table. They were proof of institutional fun from last year’s holiday party. One excited attendee in his Christmas sweater, a younger fellow from the other end of the building, had overshot his cornhole toss in the “reindeer relay race” portion of the party, and knocked over more than a ½ liter of Cherry Coke. Although he’d been a sprinter in his high school days, his early adult years had slowed him down–he couldn’t make it over fast enough to catch the Coke before it left its mark. The party organizer, a youngish woman from the eastern plains, was in charge of picking up the soda and snacks. She’d paced for a while in the drink aisle, before thoughtfully settling on Cherry Coke. She felt it would bring a nice touch to the whole thing–it was a special flavor. The cornhole mayhem was forever forged into office lore, and left the conference room a permanent homage to the party foul notably caused by the younger generations of the institution. The skating rink smells of cherry flavors and sweaty carpet were there to remind them all to make different choices before next year’s party.

The boss moved a wisp of his thinning hair from his shiny forehead as he addressed the room of employees: “I’d like to thank all of you for attending this meeting today so that we can discuss The Rules. I’d like to thank my colleagues for taking the time to update The Rules, affirming that in fact, this is a direction we are proud to move in. We worked tirelessly, on your behalf, to consider what changes need to be made, and we believe deeply in this institution because together as a team, we are making great gains, closing gaps, minimizing margins, and truly seeing the profits of our labor.”

You mean our labor, she said with her eyes.

He turned fully away from her, until the entirety of his back was in her direction. She noticed that the back of the suit was in fact, the shiniest of all, and wondered if he had also purchased it on sale at Kohl’s last holiday season.

“Now. No need to take notes, folks. We will have The Rules posted both digitally and analog, and when you come to work each morning, you can reread them, sign off on them, and maybe even take a peak around your lunch “break.” He used his little, chubby fingers to simulate air quotes, and with a garbled muttering, mentioned something about how we could all sleep when we’re dead.

“You owe the institution your day. To be clear, your day is not your own. That is rule #1.”

He looked around the conference table for confirmation. Were they to nod? They were. She did not.

“Rule two, is that there are no witches allowed here. And listen, you know what I mean when I say that. None of that lady-know-it-all stuff up in here–absolutely not. No providing your own research, consideration of impact on the natural world, no “fake questions” where you really tell us that we’re wrong, and also, and I mean it, ABSOLUTELY NO claims for accountability and transparency. We know these behaviors have gotten completely out of hand. We will no longer be tolerating such disruptive behaviors and to boot, there is a new hotline to call when you witness witchy business. You just call, report, and we will take care of it.”

“Rule Three: all learning is dead. We don’t have time for that. Or money. We have buildings to build, I need a new office chair, and there’s just not room for that kind of waste anymore. We realize that this will be different, but listen folks–we’ve gained clarity and THIS IS THE NEW ORDER. Learning is messy, expensive, and it takes time. How are we supposed to know if the investment we are making really even pays off? The real aha for us came when we considered just how problematic it can be to have multiple ways of thinking and solving for the problem, so, know your lane and stay in it. We are all experts already! And now— you are in charge of showcasing our expertise to the world.”

She muffled a guffaw by quickly turning it into a cough. He swiveled from his post at the white board. She hadn’t noticed before that he was a lefty. She wondered if he’d been chastised, or if he’d gone to Catholic school. His presence had the general air of repression–all signs pointed to yes.

“Rule Four: now stay with me here, folks, everyone will now be walking in lines and released by a bell, to move around the office. We’re missing order, folks, and frankly, we’re going back to basics. Oh, and you need to ask permission to pee–or uh, oh Shirley told me I can’t say that anymore, to urinate. You get the drift. Remember Kindergarten–yes, that’s it–everything made sense and there was order. So no frolicking or wandering around–we’ve installed bells to remind you when it is time to move about you can just form a line at the door, and be on your merry way.”

She had to pee right now. Was she already breaking the new rule if she left the meeting on her own—no line? No bell?

“And Rule Five: we are now requiring your blood donation at the end of each working week. We truly believe it is a way you can thank us for all that we do. It is an incredible community service to provide your living cells to our ongoing existence. We plan to use the donations to build a lab where we can experiment with just the right levels of hormones and vitamins and minerals that make the PERFECT employee. You will be contributing to the advancement of science! We are so incredibly lucky to have this institution to thank for that.”