Small Places : Nick L Belardes [115 of 128]

• Me: "That's an interesting statement." I know she sits in her office and types emails to her boyfriend and writes about balloon festivals."
• The rest of the time Eliza wanders the halls and cubicles for $85,000 a year. Milt made more though. And he could speak French.
• While Milt seemed built from electricity and bug mandibles, she appears to have rolled out of an old 1970s TV set.
• After our talk she begins a new routine of staring at Mulani from her doorway. She looks like a sitcom extra. Franken TV. A caricature.
• At lunchtime, Eliza paces outside the elevator. She leans against a wall, pretends to read a novel while marking our coming and going.
• If that isn't enough, the marketing meetings have become celebrations of Post-Its and fat markers.
• "Think of your favorite color," she says. "Now, take a Post-It and describe that color.
• Take another Post-It and tell me three good things about this company.
• "Then tell me three things you don't like about the person on your left." Me: "Do you want that on a Post-It or share now?" Eliza stares.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [114 of 128]

• I'm in shock. But Eliza ignores my surprised look and babbles: "I want to travel to France to revamp Buildicon's ads." Me: "France?"
• Eliza: "I need a French countryside vacation." Me: "You just started." Eliza: "I don't like your attitude." I decide to change the subject.
• Me: "I hear you're in theatre. You going to be in a production soon?"
• I wonder if she will start performing right from her Buildicon office. Eliza: "Yes. I'm auditioning for
• 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.'" I immediately blurt: "Nurse Ratchet?" Eliza smiles: "How did you know?"
• In the afternoon Eliza calls me into her office again. "You and Mulani both took a two hour lunch." Me: "I did not." Eliza: "You did too."
• I knew better than that. It was one hour and fifteen minutes. I give in: "OK, I won't be late again since you're being so ticky-tack."
• Eliza: "Good. Two hours is too long." Me: "I was fifteen minutes late." Eliza: "If there's so much free time, we have too many workers."

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [113 of 128]

• Thirty-seven
• Eliza Lumber is one of the worst names imaginable. First contact was made when I peered in the window of her Subaru in the parking lot.
• "Who in the Hell does this car belong to?" I say to Mulani after we tackle a Chinese food buffet. "The new marketing manager," she says.
• The Subaru is filled with Hostess donut wrappers and books on theatre, like: "How to Talk like You're Talking," and "Lights, Camera, You."
• More titles: "Great Theatrical Moments on Forgotten Sitcoms," and "How to Avoid Rigidity in Non-Realism: Epic Muppet Disasters."
• I’m thinking: Here’s someone who wants to learn how to fake her way through life with as much preservatives as possible.
• I'm sitting in Eliza Lumber's office when she blurts: "You know, I don't really know much about marketing and ads. I am picking up on it."
• Me: "Oh, self taught." Eliza leans forward in revelation: "Everything I've learned about advertising is from sitcoms and other TV shows."

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [112 of 128]

• "I'm too much of a rebel for that. Besides, I hate meetings." Mike: "But you hate everything."
• She storms out of the cubicle for bad coffee. Mulani has a victory in the supply cabinet war after tricking office staff
• into purchasing gel pens and a high-end three-hole punch. Her deftly planed Post-Its were tactically positioned
• to make it look like at least twelve different office workers had made requests.
• In response, Gertrude Ring, sent out what Mulani giggles is a hopelessly self-defeating email on office supply procedure.
• Gertrude's email: "...in order to make for timely and accurate delivery of your order, please do not leave Post-Its in the supply cabinet."
• "It's the Post-Its that did them in," Mulani laughs. "They were forced to come up with a procedure.
• Now they want the catalog on my desk..." Me: "A catalog?" Mulani: "I ordered one when the office workers were too lame-brained to do so."
• Suddenly Gertrude walks past like a ghoul. Me: "Can't we surrender? I keep getting called into Ken Grippo's office and
• I'm tired of staring at his nose." Mulani: "Casualty of war." Me: "His nose might attack me.
• You might not like me after I'm maimed by that thing." Mulani: "Oh, don't worry yourself." She walks away.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [111 of 128]

• "To be honest, I'm not even sure if she had a neck," Mike says. "That green dress was sure tight around her gizzard."
• "They hired my third grade teacher," I say. "They went from Hollywood sleezy to Texan, to cheesy sitcom actress." Mike: "It gets worse."
• Me: "Worse?" Mike: "You'll see." Me: "How could it get worse?" Mike: "I saw the supplies she ordered. She's a live one."
• We walk to Mulani's office and she's sitting there, glasses on and staring at the computer. Me: "Oh man, she's doing global data entry."
• I peer closer. "It's that data program that's going to revolutionize how we organize. She'll never hear us. She's got the Internet stare."
• Mulani feigns a trance. Me: "She must have entered the same information twelve times. Would be easier to enter data into a sausage."
• "Mulani, come back to us," I say. She giggles. Mike: "Oh look, it's Joan." Joan: "Hi guys." She smells like stress.
• "Passed up for manager again?" Mike says. Joan: "I don't want that stinkin' job. I never applied and I never will.”

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [110 of 128]

• "Who knew she hid such a heart ailment?" Mike said. She had been walking and collapsed. Had she snorted drugs before her stroll?
• Mike: "You just don't know about people. A bodybuilder with a bad heart. Hate to change the subject. Did you hear? The Texan is leaving."
• Thirty-six
• Me: "What do you mean the Texan is leaving?" Mike: "We're getting a new manager. He was just interim. You know, a temporary stand-in."
• Me: "Who is the lucky replacement? Maybe the return of Milt Butterlink?" Mike: "I don't believe in ghosts."
• Me: "He's not dead." Mike: "Looked like a zombie at the funeral." Me: "Zombies are undead: not dead, not alive." Mike grimaces, shrugs.
• "Whatever," Mike says. "She was wearing a Little House On The Prairie dress. Sort of looked like a piano player from the Old West."
• "Oh no, not a calico dressed manager! Was her dress green? It must have been green. Tell me she didn't have a high neckline," I say.

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [109 of 128]

• Social groups form among the staring, sad faces. I don't go to any of them. I notice Milt Butterlink in a black-and-white plaid suit.
• By himself, he leans against a wall and has that same boyish, wooden grin on his face. His hair is a mess.
• His fat hands stuffed in pockets. Because I know nobody else will, I walk over. "How are you?" I ask. He looks away.
• I leave him standing helplessly lost in his mortality. The next morning I find a small box on my desk.
• Inside is a black coffee mug with the likeness of Katie Starburn on it. "The ultimate in corporate farewells," I say.
• Mike: "What about a calendar?" Me: "Too much finality. Eventually you reach December."
• Mike: "Collectable coffee stirrers?" Me: "Too small to read the fine print." Mike: "Pens?" Me: "Everybody loses them."
• "I think I need a shot of whiskey. I'm gonna miss that girl," Mike says. "She sure brightened up the land of cubicles. Don't you agree?"
• "Oh sure," I lie. I can't help but think of what Katie said at the Day of the Dead party. She had spilled her hardened, dying heart.