‘We need a vision statement,’ Dan was saying when Pulpy tiptoed into the boardroom. ‘And we need it now.’
Nobody said anything. There were about thirty staff members sitting in a semi-circle around the big boardroom table, with Dan at the head of it. One of Al’s red retirement balloons, now partially deflated, still adorned one corner of the room.
Pulpy looked for an empty seat.
Dan folded his hands in front of him. ‘So we are going to sit here and write a vision statement, and nobody leaves until it’s done.’
There were a few murmurs at this.
‘Are there any questions?’ Dan noticed Pulpy and nodded at him.
Pulpy nodded back and sat down quickly between Roy from Customer Service and Carmelita from the Parts Department.
Carmelita raised her hand.
‘Yes?’ said Dan. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘Carmelita,’ said Carmelita. “From the Parts Department.”
‘Yes, Carmelita?’ Dan smiled at her. ‘Stand up so we can get a look at you.’
She turned her head from side to side and then stood, slowly.
Dan continued to smile.
Carmelita crossed her arms over her chest. ‘What’s a vision statement?’
Dan was silent. Then he put his elbows on the table and put his hands together and said, ‘Ah.’
Carmelita sat down.
‘I’m glad you asked, actually, because you all need to know the answer.’ Dan leaned forward. ‘A vision statement is the statement of a company’s vision, put into words. It’s about how the company sees itself. That’s the vision part. The statement part is the words themselves.’ He sat back, looking pleased with himself.
Roy elbowed Pulpy. Pulpy didn’t know how to respond to that. Then Roy’s hand went up.
‘Yes?’ said Dan.
‘Roy here.’ Roy stood. ‘From Customer Service. Why, exactly, do we need a vision statement?’
‘Why?’ said Dan. ‘I think that’s obvious.’
‘Not really,’ said Roy. ‘Al never thought we needed one.’
Pulpy sunk lower in his chair and there was some laughter around the semi-circle, but Dan wasn’t smiling.
‘Al ran his show his way, and I’m running my show my way.’ Dan leaned forward a little further, and his broad shoulders cast a shadow over the table in front of him. ‘So like I said, we need a vision statement.’
Roy sat down. ‘What do you think of him?’ he whispered to Pulpy.
‘Oh, well,’ said Pulpy, sensing Dan looking their way, ‘I think he’ll do a good job.’
Another hand went up. This time it was Vince from Archiving.
Dan frowned. ‘Yes?’
Vince stood up. ‘Hi, I’m Vince from Archiving. The thing is, Al didn’t –’
‘Excuse me,’ said Dan, ‘do you have a job here?’
‘Yes?’ Vince looked confused. ‘I’m in Archiving.’
‘Actually, the answer to that question I just posed would be no.’
‘Sorry?’ Vince half-smiled and half-frowned, like he wasn’t getting a joke.
‘Don’t be sorry. Just go.’ Dan stood up. ‘Now.’
Vince blinked and then slowly made his way out of the room. There were a few more murmurs, but they were quieter now.
‘All right.’ Dan sat back down and cracked his large knuckles. ‘If nobody has any more questions, I’ll start taking your vision-statement suggestions.’
When the meeting was ending and Dan had the vision statement tucked into a folder under his arm, he pulled Pulpy aside. ‘Pulpy, I’d like to ask you something.’
Pulpy’s shoulders stiffened. ‘I’m sorry I was late,’ he said in a rush. ‘I lost track of time this morning, I don’t know how it happens. My wife and I, we always set the alarm, so I don’t know how the delay happens there, and then there’s the bus …’
Dan shook his head. ‘Forget about that. How would you and your wife like to go to the Ice Follies with me and Beatrice?’
Pulpy stared at him.
‘We have a pair of extra tickets with your name on them.’ Dan chuckled. ‘Well, not really. I don’t even know what your wife’s name is! Ha! What is her name, anyway?’
‘Midge.’
‘Midge.’ Dan rolled her name around his mouth like he was savouring it.
Pulpy looked from Dan’s neat pant creases to his own baggy pleats. ‘When’s the show?’
‘Tonight. Does that work for you?’
Pulpy pressed a thumb between his eyebrows. ‘I think so. I’ll call Midge. I mean, I’m sure it works.’
‘On your lunch break, right?’ said Dan. ‘You’ll call her on your lunch break.’
‘My lunch break. Yes.’ Pulpy nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Dan winked at him. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Tonight?’ said Midge.
‘He’s got the tickets,’ said Pulpy.
‘What if I can’t go tonight? What if I had plans?’
‘But you don’t. And it’s the Ice Follies, Midge – it’s your thing.’ The food court was busy. He eyed all the lineups forming. He still needed to eat.
‘It’s not my thing, it’s our thing. We signed up to take Couples Ice Dance Expression together, remember? So what row are we?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Hmm. But the tickets are free.’
‘He didn’t say that, either.’
‘How could he possibly offer you tickets to an event and then charge you for them? What kind of a person would do that?’ She sighed. ‘Did you show him the catalogue, at least?’
‘The catalogue.’ Pulpy tightened his grip on the receiver. The damp edge of his coat collar scratched his neck.
‘Just bring it tonight, then. We’ll show it to his wife. The wife is the key.’
‘Right.’ He cleared his throat and thought about the square lump of mush that Midge’s catalogue must be now, on the floor of the bus.
‘What should I wear? Because I have a skirt, but I can’t wear nice shoes with it because of the weather.’
‘What about those dress pants you bought?’
‘I can’t wear them anymore. I took them to get altered and the woman at the tailor’s said, “Waist in or out?” And I said, “In.”’
‘Why don’t you just take them back and have her fix them?’
‘But she’s put so much effort into them already. I wouldn’t want to bother her. I couldn’t go back and ask her to reverse all that work. To reverse it, Pulpy! No, I’ll have to pick up some more dress pants at the mall. Do you need anything?’
‘I really don’t think we should be spending money willy-nilly like this, Midge.’
‘It’s