The Story, Part VI

Boy, was it hard to write this part! It’s rough, but it’s out. Whew!

For the start of the story and links to other installments, see this post.

The days flew by and Phil adjusted to living in relative comfort. His mother’s health had improved along with their circumstances. All things considered, he was happy and life seemed to be going well. He wasn’t even worried about his upcoming three-month review. Mr. Gabriel would be intimidating, as always, but Phil knew his work in Frozen Foods placed him in good stead.

At the appointed hour, he took the elevator to the top floor, home to Mr. Gabriel’s office. Phil had always wanted to see it. Weeks of careful questioning had gotten him fascinating tidbits of information, but the majority of the building was still a mystery to him. He knew only that basement workers were not allowed on any of the upper floors without invitation.

When the elevator door opened, his first impression was of light. It was everywhere, sparkling off of all the polished surfaces. Everything was glass or metal, except for the receptionist at the desk immediately in front of the elevator. He focused on her because she was the only thing in the room that didn’t blind him.

“Mr. Travers?” she guessed. “Mr. Gabriel will see you in a moment. Please take a seat in the chair at the end of the hall on your left.”

The chair was bright with polished chrome. He sat down on it, expecting it to be uncomfortable, and it was. As he squirmed on the seat, hopelessly trying to find a soft spot, his consciousness registered a voice. It was coming from the door across the hall. The nameplate indicated that it was Mr. Gabriel’s office. The door was ajar.

He closed his eyes against the light and listened. Now that he knew it was Mr. Gabriel’s voice, he was able to catch a few of his words. “I am in the middle of next week’s schedule and I have Mr. Travers here. I will call you back later today, OK?”

Phil heard Mr. Gabriel hang up the phone. The door opened all the way and Mr. Gabriel invited Phil into the office.

Mr. Gabriel’s office was surprisingly comfortable, with a plush carpet and a beautifully crafted wood desk, behind which Mr. Gabriel sat in an expensive leather manager’s chair. The man might be a cold fish, thought Phil, but he knew how to appreciate the good things in life.

Mr. Gabriel put aside the spreadsheet that he had been viewing and pulled Phil’s file. “You have done extremely well,” said Mr. Gabriel as he scanned the contents of the folder. “As soon as we have an opening in one of the higher departments, I will submit your name for consideration. In the meantime, we are giving you a five-percent raise for your good work.”

Phil was excited. Mr. Gabriel continued to talk. As he droned on about company loyalty and internal promotions, Phil lost the thread of the speech and his mind drifted off. There was a crashing noise outside, abruptly pulling Phil back to reality and he had a moment of panic when he thought Mr. Gabriel might be expecting a response. But Mr. Gabriel stood up, saying, “I must see what caused that most unusual sound. Please wait here.”

After a few minutes, Phil got curious and he stuck his head out the door to see what was going on in the hallway, but no one was there. He sat down again, fidgeting, then leaned forward to look at his file, which was still open on the desk. Even with the text-upside down, he quickly read through it. There wasn’t anything interesting in there, just his date of hire and a brief summary of his progress. Then his eye caught on the spreadsheet that Mr. Gabriel had put aside. It looked like a list of names and he wondered if he was on it. As he leaned closer to the desk, the chair nearly overturned and he smacked his chin against the edge of the desk. Wincing, he sat back up and rubbed at his face, hoping that there wasn’t a mark. He looked guiltily toward the door. There was still no sign of Mr. Gabriel’s return. He sat back, relieved.

The seconds continued to tick away on the old-fashioned clock on Mr. Gabriel’s file cabinet and Phil’s attention was once again drawn by the spreadsheet. A name jumped out at him—Vincent Torelli, 33 Winding Way. Phil knew someone named Vincent Torelli. He was a coach over at the high school. A nice guy, really, though he sometimes drank too much in his off hours. The spreadsheet had a field for “Means” under which Torelli was listed as “Airplane.” Phil wondered absently if Torelli had gotten a new job, but it didn’t seem likely. Torelli was a big bull of a man. He would look like a football coach even if he weren’t dressed for it, and he almost always was. His uniform was a sweatsuit. His main accessory was a whistle. It was hard to imagine the man doing anything else. Phil was still pondering the meaning of it when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He leaned back into the chair, smoothed his hair, straightened his tie, and tried to appear relaxed.

Mr. Gabriel apologized for his absence but did not explain it. He seated himself, reiterated his satisfaction with Phil’s work and reached into the center drawer of his desk, pulling out a check. He handed it to Phil. “It is our custom to hand out bonus checks after each review. Here is your first bonus, with our thanks, and with the hope that there will be many more to come.”

Phil was floored. It was a four-figure check. He thanked Mr. Gabriel effusively, stood and shook the man’s clammy hand like it was his savior, and then the interview was over and he was back on the elevator, headed down to the subbasement. Even the dismal underground hallways couldn’t smother his joy today, he thought as he walked back to his department.