A Private Moment
The stall door clicked shut behind Caleb and the world went quiet. From the floor to ceiling walls with fake wood finish, to travel size deodorant and mouthwash bottles stocked in the wire shelving and the four-ply tissue, everything in the MacroHard office bathrooms felt designed by an introvert. Nothing, not even the angry copier noises could reach him in here. For the next ten minutes, Caleb could be anywhere that his iPhone could take him. And anywhere was better than floor fifty-nine of the downtown MacroHard office building.
Caleb brushed aside the emails in his inbox with brutal efficiency, searching for the insurance policy Liz had forwarded from that morning. His wife, refusing to take her pregnancy lying down, had already highlighted specific sections with footnotes for him to review. One of the notes at the bottom had been tagged with splotches of angry red highlighter. “Any change in employment status will render this policy void, and any further claims for payment will be denied,” Well, the MacroHard lawyerese made it pretty black and white. Keep the job or pay out of pocket for the impending birth of their first child. No pressure.
The stall door next to him slammed shut. “Hey. Hey Caleb, that you in there?” Jerry’s voice called out.
Caleb froze, his thumb still hovering over the phone screen. His jaw clenched tight enough he could hear the enamel on his molars creak. Jerry wasn’t just another office gossip. In a world of corporate office buildings, staffed by bored middle-aged workers with nothing better to do than hate each other for arbitrary reasons, Jerry was the king of petty drama. Under his shaggy two week old beard and tinted transition glasses lay the mind of Varys from Game of Thrones.
If the past three years of working together had taught Caleb anything, it was that the best thing to do about Jerry was ignore him until he went away.
A pair of knuckles rapped against the plywood wall dividing them. “Caleb! I saw you walk in here, man. Don’t avoid me!”
“Jerry — “ The part of the Caleb’s brain that handled social greetings reached for the appropriate phrase and promptly blue-screened. “Why?” he finally settled on.
“You’re a hard man to track down; a very hard man. I’ve been waiting for you to come in here for like forty-five minutes,”
“You what? Wait. Don’t answer. How can I end this conversation the fastest?”
“Just answer this question: Do you, as someone whose worked here longer than me and has an outstanding relationship with the boss — don’t lie I’ve seen you too yucking it up in the break room while getting coffee. Last week it was the Survivor finale, week before that it was the color of the hydrangeas blooming outside — “
“The fastest way to end the conversation, Jerry. Emphasis on fast,”
“Do you think I’m I getting promoted this cycle?”
The textured iPhone case bonked off of Caleb’s head repeatedly. The pain did nothing to distract from the dull ache building behind his eyes. Ten minutes. His only peaceful ten minutes of the day. “I don’t make those decisions. Now get out of here,”
“Sure, but you have such a good relationship with the big man… lady. Big lady,” he corrected himself. “She didn’t mention anything? Even after all that work I did on the Anderson project?”
“You’re the one that’s supposed to know all of this stuff! I don’t know anything about the Anderson project, but I do know you gotta get out of here. I’ll stop by your desk later if you want,”
“What I want is that promotion, Caleb. I deserve that promotion,” Jerry’s voice dropped to a throaty whisper that sounded like Gilbert Godfrey imitating Darth Vader. “I need that promotion,”
Promotions at MacroHard didn’t mean much these days. The execs had already decided to freeze payroll, so really they came down to a meaningless title change and a fancy email with your name on it. “Great. See you,”
“I thought you’d be more interested, given your — situation and all,”
Caleb let out a small groan and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He could feel himself getting pulled into the washing machine of office drama with every sentence. And yet, this was the only way to find out what was going on. “You have two seconds. Why do I need the promotion? It doesn’t even come with a raise,”
“It’s not about the raise!” Jerry slapped the plywood wall hard enough to make Caleb jump. “It’s about finally being a high enough level to join the snacks committee. I can’t wait to see what Joanne from accounting says when she gets back from her cruise. Good-bye plain bagels, hello everything bagels! No longer will honest workers be forced to eat dry flavorless bread in the morning. Long live the spicy bread!”
“I need the promotion so you can get better bagels?”
“No, I need the promotion so YOU can get better bagels. Are you even listening to me?” Jerry cleared his throat, and then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I assumed you needed the promotion to make sure you’re exempt from the upcoming round of layoffs.”
Caleb’s stomach clenched hard enough he was glad he was already in the bathroom. Inflation kept creeping up, and the economy kept slowing down, but the executives kept insisting they had everything under control. “Sorry, say that one more time? There’s another round of layoffs happening?”
“Not so loud! Its still pretty hush-hush, but it’s already started, man. Two people from the platform team on fifteen got cut yesterday with more to come. I figure they wouldn’t promote anyone who’s on the chopping block, right? Ipso facto, you need that promotion,”
Of all the — this wasn’t good. Caleb had worked on his team the longest, that was for sure, but he also hadn’t gotten promoted in the last few cycles either. Whether that made him an irreplaceable engineer or a top-heavy salary drain on the organization suddenly seemed like a critical distinction. And Liz was due in just two weeks… He pulled his pants up and cinched his belt two holes tighter than usual in his hurry. The shirt he left un-tucked. He had to talk to the boss. Now.
Jerry was somehow already waiting at the sinks by the time Caleb stepped out of the stall. “You’re like the quietest pooper in the entire office, man. I couldn’t hear a thing in there,”
“I didn’t hear you go either, so we’re even,” Caleb said, soaping up his hands and rinsing them. He ripped a pair of paper towels off the stack and turned for the door.
“Oh, please. I don’t use these bathrooms. Never feel like I get any privacy, you know?”
Caleb stared at Jerry as they left. “No. I have no idea what that feels like,”
A Private Moment was originally published in Sixty Minute Stories on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.