Catherine McKenzie - Hidden

Suppose I say

summer,

write the word hummingbird,

put it in an envelope,

take it down the hill

to the box. When you open

my letter you will recall

those days and how much,

just how much, I love you.

RAYMOND CARVER

The last thing I had to do that day was fire Art Davies.

I hate firing people. Truly. Of all the things I hate about my joband their number are legionhaving to tell someone they cant come to work anymore is the worst.

But the consultants had been called in (again), and the recommendation was right there on page 94 of their 217-page PowerPoint presentation: The accounting department is overstaffed by 1.2 people.

1.2 people!

Who talks like that?

When I got the summary of the consultants reporttheres a guy in Reports whose entire job is, you guessed it, summarizing reportsI flipped to the page hed so helpfully marked with one of those yellow stickies with a red pointing finger on it and my heart sank. Next to the recommendation that I reduce my department by 1.2 people were the words: Art Davies??

Art Davies?? I read again, and my heart fell a little further. Because those question marks mightve seemed innocent, but they were as uncertain as a bullet to the chest.

Report Summarizing Guy is the direct liaison between management and the consultants. His job is to implement enough of their suggestions to justify the consultants ridiculous fees, and enable management to make their own PowerPoint presentation for the board claiming that 74 percent of the recommendations had been implemented.

So job well done.

Art Davies. Fuck. Art Davies is the guy who hired me six years ago, back when the department was a third the size and there werent any consultants around to notice that he wasnt really the guy you wanted to entrust hiring and firing to. Truth be told, Art wasnt the guy you wanted to entrust a lot of things to, but he was a great guy. Always in a good mood, quick to forgive your failings, always sending around some hilarious YouTube video right when your day was at the nadir of sucking.

Id worked hard to help him escape the last two rounds of consultants. But hed Peter-Principled himself to the head of the department, as guys like Art are wont to do, and when Id been at the company enough years to satisfy the brass, we switched jobs. A couple years ago, I went up and he went down, and Art, good ole Art, took it so well you almost couldve believed he didnt give a shit.

Couldnt have happened to a better person, he said, slapping me on the back like we were on some sitcom. Look forward to working for you.

Id gone home in a deep funk and told my wife I wanted to quit. It took her hours to talk me out of it. Phrases like great opportunity and think what we can do with the extra money bounced off me, my resolve untouchable.

Until she said, Art will probably be happier this way, you know. He never struck me as someone who wanted responsibility.

I didnt want to admit it, but she was right. Art probably would be happier if he didnt have to hire and fire people, or report to the board, or implement Report Summarizing Guys suggestions.

So, I didnt quit. Instead, I traded desks with Art, putting the silver-framed picture of my family in the faint dust outline the picture of his family had left, and went back to work. And now it had come to this.

And I couldnt help wondering, if rising to the level of your own incompetence has a name, does having to fire the guy who hired you have one too?

When Id phoned Tish to tell her about it, shed made a small noise of sympathy. She knew how much I hated firing people.

Why dont you let HR do it? she asked.

No, I cant do that.

Why not? Management does it all the time. Trust me.

Arent you always calling them pussies when they do?

She laughed, a melodious thing. Yeah, yeah. I wouldnt call you that though.

Sure.

You know I wouldnt.

I sighed. Okay, maybe not. But still.

You have to do it.

I have to do it.

Let me know if you want some tips.

You mean if I want your five-point plan for firing people effectively?

How the She clucked her tongue. You little bastard. You read the whole report, didnt you? Unbelievable.

I smiled, even though she couldnt see it. I like having all the information.

Uh-huh.

I have to keep ahead of those guys. You never know when theyre going to train their high beams on you.

You are so busted.

I should get back to work.

Have fun with your numbers!

You know I will!

I hung up and ran my hand over my face. As much as I liked talking to Tish, it didnt change the fact that Art had to go, and I had to do it.

I spent Friday doing everything I could to put off the inevitable. But there wasnt anything I could do about Arts termination package, which was sitting on my desk. A blue folder full of helpful hints about what he might do with his future, and a single sheet of paper outlining his non-negotiable severance package. Fifty-six years old, twenty-two years with the company, not in managementthanks to memeant he was getting 28.4 weeks of severance pay.

What was it with this company?

Couldnt they ever think in round numbers?

But no, they couldnt, because that would affect the pie chart, and that might end up with an eventual recommendation that they be terminated??

At four forty-five I gave one last sigh, and checked my email one last time. There was a message from Tish saying simply: Good luck.

Thanks, I typed back, Ill give you the blow-by-blow later. I hit Send, turned off my computer, put my hands on my desk and pushed myself up.

Inertias a funny thing; even though it doesnt make any sense scientifically speaking, I swear I had to push harder than usual. My steps down the hall also seemed heavier, thicker, like the feeling you get in a dream when youre trying to run. Treacle air, molasses legs.

Art was sitting at his desk, an Excel spreadsheet open before him. He was squinting at the screen over the rim of his glasses. He never did get those bifocals his ophthalmologist had recommended a few months ago, and as per the package tucked under my arm, he had four weeks to do so or he was shit out of luck.

He glanced up at me. Hey, Jeff, you think you could help me out on this one? I cant seem to get the columns to balance. He shook his head, half self-mocking, half puzzled.

Why dont you leave it, Art?

I have to get it done today. Its on my goal sheet.

Its okay. You dont have to do it.

Youre a braver man than He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of the folder. Thats notI meanthey couldntnot after all this time

Why dont we go into the conference room?

He rose to follow me, shocked into silence. If my footfalls seemed heavy before, my feet were cement blocks now. We made it into the conference room, and Art slumped into the nearest chair. I tried not to slump into the one across from him. Project an air of confident compassion, Tish had counseled me. But what did that mean, really? I had compassion all right, but confidence?

There was no way I was ever going to be able to look Art in the eye again.

Concentrate on outlining the details of the package. Shed said that too.

I opened the folder and read the text from the one sheet in a monotone. Were sorry to inform you that your position has been eliminated. In appreciation for your years of faithful service to the company, we