By Amanda LaMantia

Warren found himself back in human resources, for the third time in a month. A month! He sighed, crossed his arms and stared at the fading wallpaper that probably hadn’t been updated since the 1980s. He wished Peggy—he felt like they should be on a first name basis now— was given some funds to dress up her office a bit. He hated to admit it but it looked similar to the wallpaper in his dining room, which his wife refused to changed because it reminded her of all the christmases, thanksgivings and other events they had hosted when the kids were young. Now they had to share holidays with in-laws and friends and it was wonderful, but not the same. Speak of Ginny she would be upset to hear he was back here, she was constantly telling him to hold his tongue at the office, but there were just too many ways to find himself in hot water.

The first time he had been called down it was for sexual harassment. Sexual harassment! As if he had even considered sex to be on the table in the last twenty years! He knew what he looked like, an almost bald head with wispy grays, the way he peered through his small glasses frames whenever he worked at his computer, constantly enlarging the font and experimenting with different backgrounds to make it easier to read. A young intern had come to him asking for time off and he had quipped, “you’ll have to butter me up more if you want that!” Warren had walked off laughing and thought nothing of it but apparently she had filed with HR claiming he wanted her to put butter on him! Was that the new whipped cream these days? For a moment he let his mind drift but then he remembered he and Ginny were not the youthful beauties in his flash fantasy and these days butter was far too expensive. 

Fortunately Peggy had let him off mostly with a warning, but also a mandate to no longer speak with that intern. The intern was given a week off for emotional distress. 

Shortly after that incident he had complained to a friend that working with the interns was like trying to speak another language, which had earned him a quiet reprimand and a reference back to their sensitivity training from the Fall. He hated to admit that he hadn’t paid that much attention to the training, as he was nearly lulled to sleep by the dark background and narrow words on the presentation. But he was certain Peggy would remind him

“We are not to act in a way that prioritizes any language over another,” Peggy had told him.

“But it’s the same language,” he had responded in confusion, “what language could I possibly be insulting?” He wanted to explain he was insulting the interns not the language, but that didn’t seem to be the best option at the moment.

“It’s not about a specific language,” Peggy had said patiently, “you are associating negativity with the concept of another language.”

“Peggy, I am sorry, but it is as if you are speaking another language—another perfectly valued and useful language,” Warren replied with a sigh. Peggy returned the sigh and Warren went back to work after signing a commitment to review the training from the Fall. 

That night, over meatloaf and potatoes, Ginny explained to him that he had to be much more careful. His mind drifted as he looked into the dining room at the old wallpaper and simpler times. He barely heard Ginny as she went on and on about expectations around discrimination, harassment and professional speak among colleagues. Ginny was the type that would have taken notes during that Fall training and studied them. However, some understanding began to dawn and he hoped he’d be prepared if there were another incident.

A few short weeks later here he was again, this time for threatening language. Him! Ginny made fun of him because he took in stray animals and let lady bugs that got into the house back outside. He killed the spiders though, even his generosity had limits.

“Apparently sir, one of the interns asked you what you kept in the small box shaped like a cactus on your desk,” Peggy began, peering down at her notes.

Warren wracked his brain, he barely remembered the interaction, “Well I just keep mints in there,” he said puzzled, “can’t imagine anyone finding those threatening.”

“No sir,” Peggy said firmly, “you then told the intern that curiosity killed the cat, which he took to mean you intended to harm him.”

Warren laughed out loud, expecting that Peggy would too. She didn’t. He stopped and looked at her, “are you yanking my chain?”

“Sir,” she said gently, “it’s these kinds of phrases that are getting you in trouble. It’s a new generation, many people no longer understand what you are saying.”    

Warren kept a straight face but in his head he was smiling at he explanation. Two could play this game.

“Management has decided it is best that you move on,” she continued, “you have dedicated many years here, but the culture is changing and you seem unable to adapt. We can offer a nice severance package, but it is time to clean out your desk.”

“Well Miss. Peggy, is it?” Warren said as if he didn’t know perfectly well, “I do hope that severance package didn’t cost an arm and a leg because you will need all hands on deck in the courtroom.” He got up slowly, leaving on Peggy’s desk leaving his pre written intent to file a lawsuit for age discrimination. Walking out smiling, a new energy in his step, he thought about Ginny and decided maybe he would splurge on some butter after all.

                                                                 *   *   *

Amanda is from New England. She has a degree in English from Colby College and has loved reading and writing stories since she was a young girl.