Small Places : Nick L Belardes [37 of 128]

• Joan says the story isn't proven. But one can tell there's something in her blood that runs wild like
• her father up that bullet-ridden path. I give up on copy for a Buildicon newsletter.
• I put it down to work on a pop-up pencil holder wireless device mock-up for a possible ad.
• It's for a big wireless promotion: a life-size pencil holder punch-out. Just color with crayons, fold together, add sand for a stable base.
• Kira passes. I clearly don't know what I'm doing because I have paper cutouts all over my desk. She flings her hair in my direction.
• I want to say: "It must be easy to know where you're going when there's a map on your forehead." I bite tongue,
• consult net for paper dolls. Fold 'C' into slot 'C', 'A' into slot 'A'. How can I go wrong? Hell, I designed the slots. It will cost
• $18,000 to run the ad. No problem. And then it falls apart. Every slot rips at once. I’m not a goddam paper house architect. I know this.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [36 of 128]

• A micro-manager like Milt has to see every ad before any can leave the office. Otherwise that's trouble: my natural state of existence.
• Milt changes all the copy. It goes full circle with graphics too. He's ignorant that Buildicon ads cost $8,000 to $10,000 each.
• You can see that if we miss a deadline it's bad even if it is Milt's fault. I call it displaced blame. Others simply call it "Milt sucks."
• When I'm at home and the lights are out I stare up at the ceiling imagining pinpricks of light, the small places that represent infinity.
• Get ad copy right, or Joan says it won't mean shit from shinola. Joan: "You will piss off the entire sales force." Like I'm scared of them.
• Joan is sort of like a manager. She's also a trade industry writer, idea woman, trade show aficionado and daughter of a Korean War veteran.
• As the story goes, her father killed off his own captain for sending his platoon on a dead-end run up a Chinese-infested hamburger hill.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [35 of 128]

• He has a large nose as big as his head, narrow set eyes, and an Adam's apple that moves like the large glowing ball on Times Square.
• I'm sure Milt and Ichabod are having a lovely discussion about an ad campaign. I laugh because Milt is oblivious to Joan's ranting.
• Joan disappears down to the parking garage. She smokes two cigarettes, then screams so loud a lady walking to the bank
• trips over her heels. If there's one thing I learned how about to approach people from my previous jobs: never cross a bulldog.
• Joan, my friends, is a bulldog. How to treat Joan the bulldog: do what she says, pat her and scratch her fur every chance you get.
• Stay away from her pissing tree. Joan is from a working class cowpoke town. She's the kind of person you just leave alone.
• That's what you do with all cowboys actually. Apparently, Milt yelled at Joan for missing an ad deadline.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [34 of 128]

• Twelve.
• Joan has glazed-over eyes. They are shiny and bloodshot as she sits in my cubicle and speaks in a whisper. Her hair is a burnt frizz.
• Milt says: "I feel like a freakin' superstar. But too many tigers in those hoops while you're jumping can lead to unspeakable things."
• I write down his axiom. It's another bad saying for the book of Milt sayings. Joan continues to whisper. I don't listen. She thinks I am.
• Joan rants: "That &%$#! should be shot! He doesn't know who he's dealing with! I will lay down my resignation! He doesn't know shinola!"
• I can't understand how someone can purse their lips so much and still be able to form clear sentences. My mind wanders.
• I'm thinking about Mulani. She's dressed cute. It's formfitting. She's formfitting. Her hair is in pigtails. What happened between us?
• Joan paces. Milt's in his office speaking French to a French marketing contact who looks exactly like Ichabod Crane in a turtleneck squeeze

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [33 of 128]

• Several tables stop playing pool to stare at Mulani yelling. She smiles back innocently: "Well that's what she said!" She loves to curse.
• "She's right. The guy is like some kind of psycho babe who's constantly making false promises about gooey relationships," Mike says.
• Mulani frowns as I say, "He then forgets all about his kind gestures and goes Devil on our asses and treats ads like bad dates."
• Mulani growls: "Leave us women out! Milt is just showing poor traits common to many men. He has an unhealthy management-sized dose."
• Vishnu rolls his eyes. Mulani grins in response. He sizes up the 6-ball, but finally misses a shot. "Ha! Did you see that?" Mike laughs.
• Mike's had a few too many beers. It shows. "Vish is breakable after all! You shark! You potato drinking pool shark!"
• "Leave sharks out of this game," Vishnu says. "I am not fond of them or their many teeth." A shark's stomach isn't a small place, I think.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [32 of 128]

• "You're a baby. It's beginner's luck," I say. I turn to Vishnu. "You hung out in what place in New Delhi?" "The Punjab Potato," he says.
• "It's a drink," Vishnu says. I grimace. "The world is full of many things. One experience is but a doorway to another," he says.
• Mike: "I hate to be a ball breaker, but we do have a game to play. Break!" he yells and starts a new game. I have another agenda on my mind
• "Joan's off the deep end," I say. "No!" Mike feigns surprise. "She's near meltdown," I add. Mike waves his hands, pretends to care: "Oooo."
• Mulani nods: "It's Milt." Me: "If he didn't steal ideas, berate everyone and generally not let us do our jobs, maybe he would be likeable.”
• Mike:"Managers like Milt aren't supposed to be likeable." Mulani: "Well Joan says she's calling in fifth-column action to see he gets his."
• Mulani continues:"Well that's what she said when she was cursing like a sailor in the parking garage." OK, I'm curious: "What did she say?"
• Mulani:"She said, 'That SOB is messing with the wrong bitch if he thinks I'm taking the fall again for his boyish grasp on the department!"

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [31 of 128]

• "That is New Delhi. It is a place of ancient wonder. We even have McDonalds," Vishnu says. I am in awe of his city. He is in awe of the Web
• He humbly accepts his Web pages as his creations, his work in the corporate sphere. I can see that. I extend an olive branch.
• "Hey Vish, some of us are going to a bar tonight to shoot some pool. I thought you'd want to go." "Really?" he says. "You'd fit in," I say.
• There are now two preying mantis. They're statues, pale green, eyes like opals, with arms tucked in quiet worship of walls and windows.
• I'm fascinated with their bug world. They seem to silently socialize as if my entire living room were a lawn filled with infinite dreams.
• It's not that I always take time to think about little things. But adults no longer fascinated about small places in life tend to bore me.
• I imagine the smallest boxing match in the world. The darker mantis knocks the block off its pale friend. They both wear tiny boxing gloves
• At the bar Vishnu sinks the 8-ball before any of us get a chance to shoot. Mulani pouts, sticks out her bottom lip: "I didn't get a turn."