Top of the pile is a text from Sam, which arrived about twenty minutes ago:
On way to Germany over weekend. Heading to mountainous region. Will be off radar for a bit.
Seeing his name fills me with a longing to talk to someone, and I text back:
Hi there. Sounds cool. Why Germany?
There’s no reply, but I don’t care; it’s cathartic just to type.
So much for fake ring. Did not work. Was found out and now M’s parents think I’m a weirdo.
For a moment I wonder whether to tell him that Lucinda had the ring and ask him what he thinks. But … no. It’s too complicated. He won’t want to get into it. I send the text—then realize he might think I’m having a go at him. Quickly I type a follow-up:
Thx for help, anyway. Appreciate it.
Maybe I should have a look at his in-box. I’ve been neglecting it. There are so many emails with the same subject heading, I find myself squinting at the screen in puzzlement—till it dawns on me. Of course. Everyone’s responded to my invitation to send in ideas! These are all the replies!
For the first time this afternoon, I feel a small glow of pride in myself. If one of these people has come up with a groundbreaking idea and revolutionizes Sam’s company, then it will all be down to me.
I click on the first one, full of anticipation.
Dear Sam,
I think we should have yoga at lunchtimes, funded by the company, and several others agree with me.
Best,
Sally Brewer.
I frown uncertainly. It’s not exactly what I was expecting, but I suppose yoga is a good idea.
OK, next one.
Dear Sam,
Thanks for your email. You asked for honesty. The rumor among our department is that this so-called ideas exercise is a weeding-out process. Why not just be honest yourself and tell us if we’re going to be fired?
Kind regards,
Tony
I blink in astonishment. What?
OK, that’s just a ridiculous reaction. He’s got to be a nutter. I quickly scroll down to the next one.
Dear Sam,
Is there a budget for this “new ideas’ program you’ve launched? A few team leaders are asking.
Thanks,
Chris Davies
That’s another ridiculous reaction. A budget ? Who needs a budget for ideas?
Sam,
What the fuck is going on? Next time you feel like announcing a new staff initiative, would you mind consulting the other directors?
Malcolm
The next is even more to the point:
Sam,
What’s this all about? Thanks for the heads-up. Not.
Vicks
I feel a twinge of guilt. It never occurred to me that I might get Sam into trouble with his colleagues. But surely everyone will see the beneficial side as soon as the ideas start flooding in.
Dear Sam,
The word is that you’re appointing a new “ideas czar.” You may recall that this was my idea, which I raised in a departmental meeting three years ago. I find it a little rich that my initiative has been appropriated and very much hope that when the appointment is made, I will be at the top of the short list.
Otherwise, I fear I will have to make a complaint to a more senior level.
Best,
Martin
What?
Dear Sam,
Will we be having a special presentation of all our ideas? Could you please let me know the time limit on a PowerPoint presentation? May we work as teams?
Best wishes,
Mandy
There. You see? A brilliant, positive reaction. Teamwork! Presentations! This is fantastic!
Dear Sam,
Sorry to bother you again.
If we don’t want to work in a team after all, will we be penalized? I have fallen out with my team, but now they know all my ideas, which is totally unfair.
Just so you know, I had the idea about restructuring the marketing department first. Not Carol.
Best,
Mandy
OK. Well, obviously you have to expect a few glitches. It doesn’t matter. It’s still a positive result …
Dear Sam,
I’m sorry to do this, but I wish to make a formal complaint about the behavior of Carol Hanratty.
She has behaved totally unprofessionally in the new-ideas exercise, and I am forced to take the rest of the day off, due to my great distress. Judy is also too distressed to work for the rest of the day, and we are thinking of contacting our union.
Best,
Mandy
What? What?
Dear Sam,
Forgive the long email. You ask for ideas.
Where to start?
I have worked at this company for fifteen years, during which time a long process of disillusionment has silted up my very veins, until my mental processes …
This guy’s email is about fifteen pages long. I drop my phone into my lap, my jaw slack.
I can’t believe all these replies. I never ever meant to cause all this kerfuffle. Why are people so stupid ? Why do they have to fight? What on earth have I stirred up?
I’ve read only the first few emails. There are about thirty more to go. If I forward all these to Sam, and he steps off the plane in Germany and gets them in one fell swoop … I suddenly hear his voice again: round-robin emails are the work of the devil.
And I sent one out in his name. To the whole company. Without consulting him.
Oh God. I’m really wishing I could go back in time. It seemed like such a great idea. What was I thinking ? All I know is, I can’t land this on him out of the blue. I need to explain it all to him first. Tell him what I was trying to achieve.
My mind is ticking over now. I mean, he’s in a plane. He’s off-radar. And it’s Friday night, after all. There’s no point forwarding anything to him. Maybe everyone will have calmed down by Monday. Yes.
The phone suddenly bleeps with a text and I jump, startled.