Reorganization

Reorganization

I close the front door. The tase oof bacon and eggs still lingers in my mouth. Thoughts about this morning’s reorganizational meeting seemed to well up in my con consciousness. Change is always difficult to justify to those who don’t want to change. Stepping down from the porch I wave to Jason next door, who as usual, was out fussing in his rose garden….Wait a Minute….Wasn’t his daughter over there yesterday clearing out the house? I must be mistaken.

This meeting has to go right. If the company doesn’t go for this reorganization it will never be able to complete. I throw my briefcase into the car and look around before getting in. The morning is unusually clear. There are bird sounds that I hadn’t noticed before. It must be the stress has heightened my senses. I climb into my new Mercedes. I had worked hard for all this and the company’s success is the key to keeping all this. The leather seat is firm. It fits my body just right. The xm stereo puts out soft jazz as I pull out of my drive. Life is good, finally.

As I turn the corner…Wait a minute. That corner lot has been vacant for three years. Now there is that old house with an old lady in a rocking chair on the porch? What is going on here? I decide to go around the block. As I again approach the corner the lot is vacant. Am I losing ti? I don’t have time for this, so I head down the street to the 320 ramp. I ease my way into the freeway traffic, which is unusually heavy for this time of day.

This is a sight to behold. There has to be an antique car show today. The Freeway is usually pretty quiet this time of morning, but I imagine there folks want to get their cars in place if opening time is 8:00 AM. A beautiful ’37 Pierce-Arrow is in the lane besides me. It makes my luxury car look like a cheap Ford Sedan. There is a ’57 Chevy Step-side pickup ahead of me…cool, really nice. This is all amazing but this distraction isn’t going to help me remember the flow chart of statistics that I need to deliver this morning to justify my call for reorganization.

Exiting the freeway I head down the boulevard to our twelve story Transportation, Inc. building in the industrial park. On the sidewalk I notice a thin man in a dark suit, walking. He turns and looks at me as I pass. Do I know this man? Why am I so distracted this morning? When all this is done I am going to take a week or two of vacation time.

I pull into the parking garage. I have the second parking spot on the left as you enter. Strange….some one has place a wreath over the sign covering my name. I will get to the bottom of this! I had that sign made, M.P. Milford Vice President in gold lettering. Now someone is trying to make a joke of it. I’m pissed.

There is Tim, morning security for the garage. “Hay,… Tim! Tim wait up,” I yell but Tim doesn’t seem to hear me and walks around the corner. There is that man, that thin man I had seen on the sidewalk as I came to work…yes that is him. He walks past the fleet cars parked at the end of the garage. He enters the elevator. I head for the elevator and the hair on the back of my neck starts to rise. I slow my pace a little and look around. The same thin man in a dark suit is walking behind me. This is nuts. I stop and wait for him. I got goose bumps now. I don’t hear any foot steps.

“Say, you don’t have a twin working her, do you? I ask as he gets close. “No,” his reply is in a soft tone. There is no hollow echo sound that there usually is in a mostly empty parking garage. “Who put that wreath over my name in my parking space. Do you know?” I demand.

“”I didn’t see it.” He simply responds.

“I am M. Paul Milford, vice president. You must be new. Don’t recognize you. What department are you in?” I ask him, trying to be off hand. “Receiving and Shipping,” he replies quietly.

We continued on to the elevator. As we approach the door opens on its own. “They must have installed a sensor. Great idea.” I comment.

The dark suited thin man asks as we step in, “What do you remember about yesterday?”

Strange question. “What do you mean?” I respond as the door slides shut. 

I hit the button for the 12th floor. The elevator seems cold. It moves silently. Maintenance is doing a good ob. It is use to rumble and grind. I think back to yesterday. I remember getting up and breakfast and getting to my car with the big moving van in front of Jason’s house. But that can’t be right because Jason was out in his garden this morning. But that can’t be right because I went to his funeral last week. My heart is beating faster and faster. The elevator door finally opens on the twelfth floor. I dash out leaving the tall, thin man in the elevator. I fumble with my keys. Finally I get my office door open. I go to my desk and sit there with my head in my hands. Ok, ok, too much stress here. Maybe I need to call the meeting off. Hell no, all the division heads have already been flown into town.

I walk over to the credenza and start to make coffee. My hands are shaking. It is 6:32; enough time to calm down. As I wait for the coffee to perk through I go to my computer to check the employee list. For some reason I can’t log on. IT won’t be in till 8:00. Who is this thin man? Why is he here so early? I pour a cup of coffee and take a sip. Marge must have bought some cheap coffee. It tastes too bitter to be the usual. I pick up the can and look at it. I have never taken notice what the brand was that we use. An unimportant detail but now it seems important. What is going on, not only with me but the world around me? My hands are still shaking as I open the door to the reception area. Sitting on the chair next to the receptionist’s desk is that thin man.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” Then after a brief moment adds, “Are you ready to talk?”

“Talk about what? If you work in shipping and receiving shouldn’t you be there?” This man is really bugging me . I have too much to do to work on departmental problems now.

“I don’t work for this company. I work in receiving and shipping…of souls.” His voice has a soft caressing quality.

“My palms are sweaty as I gripe the cold doorknob. “What kind of nonsense is this? Souls? What the hell are you talking about?”

The thin man’s emotionless face seemed to glow as he continued. “What do you want to remember about yesterday? For a soul gets what it dwells on in this middle world. Remember yesterday? You must realize by now that you are physically dead.”

“Dead, dead!” I shout, “I am not dead! Yesterday I put my computer in the trunk of my car and turned to see the moving truck coming…….” I clap my hand over my mouth. Oh My God! I shouldn’t have parked on the street.

“Do you want to come with me? Start a new life?” He pauses and then says, “You can stay here, but it is awful lonesome.”

Marge comes in and puts her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk. She does not notice the man sit-in in the chair. Marge gets a file box out of the closet. Walking past me to my desk she starts to take the contents out of the drawers and puts them the box. She stops now and then to read a note or something I had written on the papers.

“She doesn’t know you are here. Go ahead and try to talk to her.” The thin man now has a grim smile on this pale face.


“Marge, Marge! I am here!” I scream at her. She pauses and calmly walks over to the coffee pot. With a puzzled look on her face and shaking her head she pours herself a cup of coffee. “Not bad for yesterday’s” she mumbles and goes back to my desk.

“Ready to go?” The thin man quietly urges.

“No, No! I don’t want things to change. Life is …was good.” I moan.

“Life still is. Just think of it as ….reorganization.