At the weekly conference meeting I usually sit directly across the long, oval glass table from Marjorie Meadows. We pass each others desks often, smile or at least nod a hello. I don’t know if Marjorie is as sneaky as I am sometimes when once in a while I pretend I’m going over notes and ignore her.
The notice for today’s weekly conference meeting stresses full attendance required. All seats are taken before Mr. Carruthers, president of E Z Hair Color, has us all stand to salute the American flag. It’s a quirk of his and we don’t object. Only Marjorie delays us while Carruthers calls her desk to tell her to get her rear in the meeting room NOW. Her being five minutes late cost her the one chocolate cream puff that has her invisible name on top. I shamelessly snatch and devour it. Coffee mugs remain on the table for refills from the big silver samovar Carruther’s mother gave him, a relic of her days in Russia.
Marjorie walks in, sits in her designated spot, relaxes in the tan butter milk soft leather chair. Mr. Carruthers coughs from deep in his chest and stands to make the important notice that we all knew was coming. He announces that E Z Way , our new product for mostly middle aged men, will be on the shelves of 5000 shops by next Friday. We all applaud. He goes on and on about his great expectations, figures to be made, T.V., magazine ads. ‘We will hit like Joe Louis hit Max Schmeling in their second bout. Louis beat hell out of the German Nazi. We’re on our way to great things!’
My mind wonders as Marjorie seems to be staring at me. I look her in her eyes and she drops them to repair a rough finger nail. While her attention is on the emery board, I realize that she has many wrinkles I had not noticed before. There are deep furrows in her forehead. Today, of all days, her lipstick is too red and has smudged in the corners of her mouth. Her eyebrows are definitely penciled in with taupe brown to cover a few straggly gray hairs. They don’t. Marjorie starts going over the notes she made while Boss Man boasted of his business prowess and what he expects soon.
I try not to stare at Marjorie but can’t help myself. She has on stunning, dangling crystal earrings that touch her shoulders. Hasn’t she noticed her ear lobes have stretched, have no more elasticity? The jewelry today is clear but she has all colors, very elaborate or some plain as Jane. An avid sun worshiper means she has some kind of goop to cover the brown spots that don’t show under the long sleeved blouses she usually wears.
My name is called. Mr. Carruthers asks me if I am still conscious. ‘Have you heard any of what I have been saying for twenty minutes?’ I fumble with my notes and from a distance, hold up my ledger to show him how many pages I have filled. Big mistake! He asks me for the book so he can look over my thoughts when he returns to his desk. I am trapped.
Marjorie stands up and accidentally knocks over the dregs of hers to cover on to my notes. I gasp and wait while the coffee seeps into the pages. I then pass them down the table. As Mr. Carruther’s personal secretary reaches for them, amazingly, her coffee spills on the notes too. She apologies and wipes up the mess with monogrammed paper napkins. I am saved for a while.
When we are dismissed I thank my two cohorts. Marjorie asks me if she smudged her lipstick when she had part of her second cup of coffee.
‘No, Darling, you look lovely as usual,’ I tell her. She makes sure Mr. Carruthers is not in sight and puts her notes thru the copy machine, hands them to me and suggests, I don’t use them verbatim.
The day is over. I stop at the best bakery in all of Pittsburgh and buy a dozen and a half chocolate cream puffs, have them put on a platter with a dome cover. They are there on Marjorie’s desk, along with a vase of lovely pink tulips, when she arrives at her desk in the morning.
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