Life: The Musical

Mr. Dunwoody’s hands started to move so Paige knew he was about to talk. He always talked with his hands, even while holding a large mug of hot coffee.

“You see, Paige, we are a public relations firm”

She did see. Oh, not that though. She saw the grandeur of Central Park through the high rise plate glass behind him, the prefect backdrop for a scene, almost any scene……the arrival, the discovery, even the breakup scene. It was perfect, especially in autumn, as it was.

“’Public relations’ Do you know what that means?”
Mr. Dunwoody spoke in a gentle, grandfatherly voice.

He answered before she could, even though she was not going to because she was thinking about the layout of his office. It was functional enough, she sighed, for a commercial endeavor, making money and all of that, but was definitely lacking for a musical number.

There was too much stuff on the desk, making it almost impossible to jump on and dance or slide across in a playful fashion. Flinging everything off was an eye-catching option often used but could distract from the music or dance.

“It means people are depending on this firm to take care of things so they don’t have to worry about messing up. We are there to say the right thing the right way”

“Yes, sir,” Paige adlibbed, wondering how he would feel about wearing a bow tie for this scene. She feared he’d say it wasn’t his style but somehow it just seemed to fit.

“And that means not just when we speak on behalf of them. It includes any form of written communication. We are a public relations firm. The ‘l’ is very important”

“The ‘l’, sir?”

“The ‘l’. We are not a pubic relations firm”
The audience would love that line, Paige thought. Defintely keep it.

“Pubic?”

“Yes, even though we have macros that will print our firm name and all contact information with the touch of a button, you insist on trying to type it manually and labeling us a pubic relations firm”

“Oh,” said Paige, “that’s not good”

“No, indeed” Mr. Dunwoody took off his glasses, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He sighed again and it didn’t sound like a good one.

A piece of paper to his left he picked up and began reading from it.

“When Brooke Danforth was arrested for drunk driving, you told the media her plans were to drink more at home”

“Well I wanted to say she was gong to rehab, but she refused to go so I really didn’t have much choice…..”

“Lie, Paige, lie. It’s what we do. Brad Garaway, our biggest client by the way, had his regularly scheduled tirade of intolerance on the set of his new movie, this time against gays, you reassured America by telling them ‘Brad has nothing personal against homosexuals. He hates a lot of other groups as well’”

“Should I have…….”

“Lied?. Yes. Our job is to make our clients look good even when we know they don’t and especially when we know they can’t”

Public relations, Paige thought. It was an odd kind of business but it was still business, and there was so much you could do with an office in a musical context. An office was just so much of everyday life, something everyone could relate to.

The keyboards, almost musical by their very nature.

The uptight boss with disdain for all things theatrical in the hallowed environment of the office who almost unwittingly ends up singing and doing a little soft shoe himself.

The young idealistic woman, new to the office, whose dream is to change the world or set it on fire. Most likely both.

The friend, experienced, almost jaded, who takes her under her wing, seeing everything in her that she once was herself.

“I see,” said Paige.

“You see what?” Dunwoody answered.

Was it that obvious she had been working out blocking in her mind? After all they both couldn’t just stay seated during the entire scene.

She said nothing this time. She would just let him speak.

He sighed, just like the uptight boss, but Mr. Dunwoody did not fit the profile. He had high expectations but a gentle spirit. When she looked at him, she could almost literally see numbers swirling around in his head, a definite plus for believability in the role.

“You can go now,” he said.

“Oh, okay”

Paige looked behind her when she opened the door to leave his office.

“Do you want the door open or closed?”

“Closed”
They always wanted it closed, Paige thought, but that questions always seemed to be in the script so…..

Eyes looked up at her as they always did when someone left Dunwoody’s office, searching for signs on her face of what might have transpired behind closed doors.

She flashed them a grin, leaving them disappointed. What was the point of having no cubicle walls if there was never anything juicy to see.

They all went back to their work, their press releases, their phone calls, their lies.

Paige looked at the configuration of desks, row after row, in perfect alignment, in perfect symmetry. Suddenly, all her co-workers looked the same. The women, all with their hair pulled back, wearing a a red blazer with navy skirt of length that pushed itself just beyond the line of professionalism. The men, all wearing pin-striped blue suits and black glasses. How had she never noticed that before?

Stopping at her desk, Paige looked at herself in the mirror on the wall, which she had also never noticed. She was the only one dressed uniquely. Had the firm gone to some kind of standardized dress without her realizing it? Maybe that was the reason Mr. Dunwoody had called her into his office.

The sound of live music suddenly filled the air, a fast paced piano rhythm coming from a baby grand in the corner. The piano player gave her a wink. All of her co-workers got up from their desks and began moving about the room, their steps in time with the music.

Before she could blink, they were paired off in man-woman couples….though how was that even possible since there were four times as many women in the office as men…..and they began to dance the same tightly choreographed routine.

Perhaps they had brought in temps…..but temp dancers?
Paige couldn’t understand the lyrics they sang but they seemed particularly upbeat as did the entire number. She watched in fascination as the couples danced both together and separately. Top hats and canes flew through the air toward the men, each catching them in the middle of a well calculated spin.

They danced briefly around the women who stayed stationary and then, flinging the hats and canes away, twirled then flipped their female partners in the air. Even Rosalie….who was…..well…..had a thyroid condition and was a bit…..overweight. It was all done so precisely not a single skirt, not even Rosalie’s, was besieged by gravity.

Just as words were about to find her tongue, she felt her feet rise off the floor. Herb the maintenance man and the new guy
from marketing raised her by her arms to the top of her desk.

She stood there a moment then felt herself fall back into the arms of more dancers, then found herself in a rolling chair being pushed beneath an archway of raised arms, moving into place just seconds ahead of her….all the time, the music growing faster and louder.

The mixture of male and female voices sang out….”She’s down but she’s not out…..and she will rise again”

Caught up in the moment, Paige rose from the chair and,was immediately hoisted onto the shoulders of the two interns from accounting as she belted out the final line herself.

“Yes, I…..will…..rise…..aaaaa-ggggainnnnnnnn”

The big ending came in a fury of light and sound.

She tumbled from atop their shoulders yet knew they would catch her as the music reached its dramatic end and suddenly found a cardboard box in her hands.

She glanced down at it but the lingering quiet brought her head back up to see everyone sitting at their desks in their regular office attire., all of them staring at her.

“What’s up with her,” she heard one of them.

“She just got fired,” came the whispered response.
Paige looked at the box in her hands.

“I did?”