Weekly Morning Meeting

The weekly check in was going well, the management team was getting along and Edward had decided not to air any more stories in regards to his bodily functions or strange growths he had found while showering. The quiet hum to the room was more than likely the nervous energy generated from vague news of internal shake up.

Without looking up from the notebook in front of her, Suzanna read off the litany of new roles created for people making more money than they deserved to be making. When I realized that none of this affected me or my team, the words became a drone. The drone sounded amazingly like the Death Star debriefing scene in Star Wars.

I was barely moved when I thought I heard Suzanna say, “Regional governors now have direct control over their territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line.” I did almost look around to see if anyone else heard what I was hearing, but honestly I couldn’t be bothered.

But when there was an audible gasp in the room, I decided I had probably missed something fairly important. Instead of admitting that I had been daydreaming, I let loose an incredulous “what” in order to push Suzanna into repeating what she had just said.

“Paulette has been kidnapped in Botswana and being held for ransom.”

My incredulousness was real this time, “what the fuck was she doing in Botswana?”

“Looking into outsourcing, that’s not really the issue here Brian. The issue is how are we going to get her back.” Suzanna rifled through some papers before her. “We’ve decided to try to pay the ransom. It’s a paramilitary group, a sort of ‘back to the land’ agrarian movement, with guns. If word gets out about supplying these people with funds, as a bonus, we can make it look good for our approval numbers; media team can spin it appropriately.”

“What do you mean TRY and pay the ransom?” Matt asked.

“Well, our quarterly earnings are a little low, so we will be unable to pull the funds from our overhead.”

“But it’s Paulette,” Christine nearly whimpered. “What are going to do?”

“Bake sale,” Suzanna simply said. There was a moment of shocked silence.

“What?” I asked a bit breathlessly.

“A bake sale,” she repeated. “I want all of you to get the word out to your direct reports. We’re bringing in baked goods, we’re selling them, we’re making money to get Paulette out of Uganda.”

“Botswana,” T.C. said.

“Exactly.”

Christine went from near tears to a flash of demented joy. “I’m going to bring in my surprise, upside down brownie cake!”

“That’s the spirit Christine! Let’s get out there and make a difference!”