The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things....

Posted by Chaidie Petris on

The time has come, the Walrus said, 
To talk of many things: 
Of staff – and blips – and sewage pipes – 
Of product names – meetings – 
And how the gas leak was repaired – 
And Mondays tormenting.

 
A resounding “Nooooo!” reverberated in the office. The cry bounded from product shelf to product shelf, springing from sleep masks, to glasses, to heaps of unsuspecting ultra removers. The vials of preservative-free drops clung to one another; even a safely tubed Tranquileyes shuddered until it had inched its way to the back of the shelf. An excited buzz commenced, as staff members teemed toward the front room. The atmosphere was mixed: excitement, dread, fear. The pulling of hair and only slightly exaggerated “Aaaauughs” were essential elements to the process of blunder and resolution. A systematic attitude was the adopted, and workers scurried like five desperate worker ants until the hole was mended. 

Several heinous “Cruuunches,” “scrrrapes,” and “BAMs” emanated from outside the office. The phones rattled, then rang in annoyance. A single worker darted to the windowed door. Then another, and thick and fast they came at last, and more, and more, and more, until the five workers crowded against the pain to watch, aghast, as septic was replaced with sewer system. Five workers peered at the site of tomorrow’s team barbecue, now a gaping pit. “Sighs” and “Oh dears” and “Subway, anyone?” filled the room. How could the next day’s meeting be, to quote its listing on Google Calendar, “RELAXED”?

The next sound was not a sound, but rather the ineffable essence of propane snaking through the office. Five workers barricaded the stronghold against the gas leakage that followed the construction workers hitting a gas pipe. As a vermilion emergency vehicle meandered past the window, one worker reflected, “Perhaps it’s best we didn’t have that barbecue after all.”

The next day had all the “ARRRGGs,” “Oh Nos,” and other agitated noises of a Monday. It was not a Monday. However, donuts were provided, and granted the wounded spirit solace. The gas had cleared up, and construction was coming to an end. I smiled at the donut box and said, “Aren’t you glad it’s Friday?” 

But answer came there none – 
And this was scarcely odd, because
We’d eaten every one.

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Editor's note: My daughter came to work at the Dry Eye Company this summer for the first time! She's doing bookkeeping (oh heavenly respite...) and helping on social media and purchasing and a host of other things. Chaidie is a high school junior and a lover of all things literary and academic.


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  • May I just say…

    Well done, Chaidie! : )

    Lindy on

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