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Rosalind Barden
The refrigerator had gotten so bad, even the supervisor of the supervisor of the supervisor had noticed, and each supervisor in turn had complained to the one below until the situation fell squarely on the head of the Unit Head such that, red-faced, panting, he scurried about the floor imploring someone, anyone, to clean the refrigerator because the supervisor of the supervisor of the supervisor had stated: “I smelled it ten feet away, and that with its door closed firmly.”
No one wanted to take responsibility, and blamed the piles of rotting leftovers in oozing plastic grocery bags on the next cubicle, who in turn shrugged, “I never keep anything in that refrigerator, ever,” and blamed it yet on the next cubicle and the Unit Head knew they all were lying, so imagine his cool brow relief when Lucie Ann, bless her, bless her! volunteered to do the deed, even though he knew she could not be responsible for any rotting lunches from times past because she was such a neat and tidy person, always cheerful, coming in early, staying late to straighten the copy room. Oh! Joy! And he was able to email his supervisor who emailed her supervisor who emailed his supervisor that the situation was being “dealt with.”
Saintly Lucie Ann. Such guilt spread about the floor as, uncomplaining, she excavated the reeking dripping piles from the refrigerator, and the women gathered in clutches to glare at their male coworkers and declare loudly enough for them to hear: “I guess there’s no REAL MEN here. Poor Lucie Ann. And we all know it’s the MEN who messed up the fridge.” And heads bowed, the men slunk to hide in their cubicles because they all suspected they had forgotten lunches snacks apples they never ate, yet they were too cowardly to tackle the task poor innocent Lucie Ann this very moment was tackling, manfully. Poor Lucie Ann.
And even the maintenance crew would not touch the five bags she’d filled (“Ain’t us that’d made that mess”), so, Lucie Ann, again, saintly, uncomplaining, cheerful even in the face of such foulness, dragged the heavy reeking bags to the dumpster in the back of the building and it was reported that even the rats fled, such was the stench. And the men hid deeper in their cubicles as Lucie Ann emerged and the supervisor of the supervisor of the supervisor leaned his head into the like new refrigerator and deeply inhaled the crisp scent of bleach and declared: “Very good, what’s your name? ah, yes, thank you, Bob, Lucie Ann. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”
And she did and for once was happy to be heading home, for her husband was now gone forever, and his plastic wrapped parts would never be found thanks to the mess in the refrigerator.
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