Lightning Rods

AN UNEASY TRUCE

For the next three weeks Roy went on trying to make up his mind what to do. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to use the disabled stall again. He had had to make do with the ordinary stalls, something he hadn’t tried for several years and would have preferred not to be attempting now.

He noticed that some kind of romance seemed to be developing between Elaine and Ed Wilson. He was surprised that Elaine would want to get involved with someone with Ed’s reputation, and in fact, once or twice he considered the possibility of giving her some kind of subtle hint. If she had any idea what he really got up to she’d drop him like a hot potato. But it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you could convey by a subtle hint. Luckily, considering Ed’s reputation, there was precious little chance of anything coming of it. So he just kept his distance and hoped the end, when it came, wouldn’t be too much of a disappointment to Elaine.

Finally, at the end of the third week, Roy decided enough was enough. He couldn’t go on flinching every time he passed the disabled cubicle. The truly brave man is not the man who feels no fear—it’s the man who faces his fear and conquers it. So Roy went into the Men’s on Friday afternoon, pushed the door to the disabled stall firmly open, and strode in.

The panel in the wall was gone.

Roy walked over to the wall and knocked where the panel had been. It seemed solid, as far as he could tell. Could he have—but he couldn’t have imagined something like that. Could he?

He paced up and down. Wait! What about—

The wall attachment which had dispensed condoms was also gone.

Roy examined the wall carefully where the attachment had been. There were no screw holes or anything like that, but if he wasn’t mistaken there was a new tile in the wall. Besides, now he thought of it, he probably still had those four condoms in the inside pocket of his suit. He slipped a hand into the pocket; yup, still there. So it hadn’t been a figment of his imagination.

On the other hand, as proof that something fishy had been going on four condoms were pretty weak—if you were going to try and convince someone else. There was absolutely nothing here now to show that anything had ever happened.

Well, what did it matter? Didn’t this solve everything? For whatever reason, whoever had been responsible for it had had it removed. It was gone now. Wasn’t that the main thing? He could just put it out of his mind and get back to work.

Unfortunately the human mind doesn’t work like that. Now that there was no physical evidence left, now that there was no problem to actually solve, Roy’s mind just went on chewing over the mystery. To outward appearances he was the same efficient human resources operator he had always been; inwardly, he was preoccupied. He went right on wondering how it had actually reached the stage of being put in place, and who had been responsible, and why they had taken it out. Was it because they knew he knew? Had Ed Wilson had a word with someone higher up? Had they realized that if they did not take preemptive action Roy would take it for them?

There’s an old saying: An elephant never forgets. If they had been hoping to put him off the scent by removing the evidence, they would have saved themselves a lot of trouble if they had remembered that famous saying.

What had actually happened, of course, was that the probationary period for the lightning rods had come to an end. Over the six-month period the facility had been gradually extended to allow a wider range of employees to participate at strictly performance-related frequencies, as its positive effects on those already participating began to be perceptible. Joe had gone in to talk to Steve, who was absolutely delighted with the results—absenteeism was down, profits were up, everything was for the best in this best of all possible worlds.

“I’m glad to hear that, Steve,” said Joe. “So you’d like to make this a permanent arrangement, is that it?”

“For the time being,” said Steve.

“There’s permanent and permanent, obviously,” said Joe. “Two-year contract?”

“Let’s do it,” said Steve.

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Joe. “Because I’ve introduced some enhancements to the product that I’m very excited about. I wouldn’t want you to have anything but the best, Steve. That’s not the way I do business. These enhancements have worked beyond all expectations on our other sites, and I want you to have the benefit of those developments.”

“I’m pretty happy with what we’ve got in place right now,” said Steve, rightly sensing that these enhancements would not be complimentary.

“Sure,” said Joe. “But remember, Steve, we’re providing this above all as an incentive. It’s false economy, if you want my opinion, to cut corners when it comes to making that incentive as attractive as possible.”

“What did you have in mind?” Steve asked reluctantly, and Joe explained about the adjustable toilet.

Whatever Steve was expecting, it wasn’t this.

“I’m pretty happy with what we’ve got in place right now,” he said again firmly. “I see what you’re saying about the ambience, Joe, but I really don’t think these guys are that sensitive to atmosphere, if you want my honest opinion.”

Joe had been expecting some initial resistance, but he knew he just wouldn’t be happy until the original, flawed prototype had been replaced by the model which was now up and running in Kansas City. “Look, Steve,” he said patiently. “It’s to do with self-perception. I’ve just installed an absolutely up-to-date facility in Kansas City. What kind of message does that send to your staff if they hear they’re trailing Kansas City in the level of provision? Do you want your staff to feel like a bunch of hicks? Do you want them to think they’ve got to go to Kansas City for state-of-the-art accommodation?”

In other words, did he want to have Ed Wilson singing THEY’VE GONE ABOUT AS FUR AS THEY KIN GO around the office at the top of his voice.

“Well, no,” said Steve. “But we’ve only had this six months.”

“Sure,” said Joe. “But believe me, Steve, once you’ve upgraded you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.”

With these words did Joe persuade Steve to approve installation of ten complete height-friendly facilities, thus further improving the cash flow situation. It was something he could feel good about. He had ensured that Steve would not face any unpleasant legal eventualities through making access to lightning rods subject to height restrictions. At the same time, he had spared Steve the aggravation of being aware of this. A good salesman knows that the fact that something is true is not necessarily a reason to share it with the customer. The current provisions for disabled employees caused Steve enough grief. There was absolutely no need to add a gratuitous source of irritation.

It came as second nature to Joe to clean up after himself. The new installations were added to the other end of the Men’s and Ladies’ Rooms over the course of a single weekend, and on the following weekend, once participants were aware of the change of venue, the old transporter was removed from the disabled cubicle, the panels removed, and the holes plastered up. Joe had no way of knowing that the installation had been seen by someone who shouldn’t have known about it. He had no way of knowing just how far-reaching the repercussions of that breach of security would eventually be.





Troubleshooting





A WOMAN IN A THOUSAND

Sometimes your words come back to haunt you. You say something casually, without thinking that much about it. Later it turns out you spoke truer than you knew.

In the early days, when Joe had been trying to persuade women that being a lightning rod was something to be proud of, something aspirational that could fit in with the life goals of a very special person, he had used the phrase “a woman in a thousand.”

“Maybe one woman in a thousand could do it,” he’d say. “We’re looking for that woman in a thousand.”

“It’s not for everybody,” he’d say. “We’re looking for the woman in a thousand who is a real team player.”

Well, he’d said it, obviously, but really it was just a way of flattering the applicant, the way you flatter someone into buying the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Or if the truth be told, what he was probably thinking was that not one woman in a thousand would fall for it. He was looking for the woman in a thousand, all right, the woman in a thousand who was dumb enough to think it was a smart career move to stick her fanny through a hole in a wall and let someone give her the old Roto-Rooter from the rear.

Well, ironically, it turned out he had spoken no more than the truth.

It was a job for the woman in a thousand. Or at least, he didn’t have a thousand gals on the payroll yet, but of the couple of hundred signed up so far, apart from Lucille, there weren’t more than about five with the brains of a headless chicken. The rest, if you wanted his honest opinion, had a damn sight less brains than a headless chicken.

It’s hard work finding new clients for an innovative scheme like this; it’s hard work convincing existing clients that it definitely is for them. All you want from the ladies is for them to demonstrate beyond the shadow of a doubt that the installation is the morale-boosting, productivity-enhancing type of product you made it out to be. All you want is for them to get on with their job while you get on with yours, which is persuading more companies to go with the flow.

But instead Joe had found himself fielding constant phone calls. He’d be in the middle of a meeting with an important client when the phone would ring. His secretary would tell him it was urgent. He’d pick up, and it would be some gal in floods of tears because some guy slapped her on the fanny.

For the kind of money she was getting you’d have thought she could throw in a slap on the fanny every so often without going into a big song and dance about it, but the gal would go on and on about how she had been given every assurance that she would be treated with respect, this wasn’t at all the kind of thing she’d been led to believe, she felt that her integrity had been compromised di bla di bla di bla.

“I hear what you’re saying,” Joe would say. He couldn’t help but hear what she was saying, she was yelling so loud everyone in the Goddamn building could probably hear every Goddamn word. “Look, I’ll give this my serious consideration. You’re right, this raises serious questions. It’s too serious to do anything hasty. I’ll call you back when I’ve had a chance to give it some serious thought.”

And he’d hang up thinking Jesus.

Or sometimes one of the gals would come down to the office and raise Cain. Sometimes they’d come during office hours when there were new applicants being screened, and sometimes they’d come after work and catch him just as he was getting ready to get home for the day—he never knew which was worse.

“If you think I’m going to put up with this kind of thing you’re very much mistaken!” they would say, just as if he hadn’t warned them that it was a job for a woman in a thousand.

Joe would generally just let them talk themselves out. When the hullabaloo had subsided he would say, “I couldn’t be sorrier, Suzanne (or Julie or Nicole or Yvonne as the case might be). I’m shocked that a thing like this could happen. I need hardly say that I never in my wildest dreams anticipated that one of our clients could step over the mark in this fashion. This is way out of line. Totally unacceptable. But the thing is, Suzanne, as I explained when I interviewed you, this is a job for a woman in a thousand. Because as I’m sure you know, this is a very innovative approach. We’re all feeling our way. Some of the behavioral parameters are still fluid at this stage. I’m sure the client didn’t mean to cause offense, he was just feeling his way—”

This was a slightly unfortunate turn of phrase in the circumstances but Joe would speak smoothly on.

“—as are we all. This is all very new. And remember, many of our clients are relatively unsophisticated young men in many ways, the fact that they are high earners doesn’t necessarily mean that they have the conceptual framework which would enable them to deal with an unfamiliar situation of this kind with the level of savoir faire you might prefer to encounter. It’s that very lack of savoir faire, I need hardly say, which leaves them in such crying need of a service of this nature.”

“That’s all very well, Joe,” the gal would say, “but just how much background in the social graces do you need to know that you don’t go around peeing on people?”

“I know, I know—” Joe would begin.

“What kind of shithead has to consult Emily Goddamn Post to ascertain that pee belongs in the receptacle provided? What kind of social moron are we talking here? I’m sorry, Joe, but this is just too much. What kind of infantile pervert derives sexual satisfaction from taking out his wiener and squirting pee on people? I mean Jesus, Joe, di bla di bla di bla . . . ”

“I know,” Joe would say again. “I know. I couldn’t be more horrified. But that’s just the point. We’re dealing, often, with deeply inadequate individuals. Persons with a very low sense of self-worth. Now unfortunately, as I’m sure you know, in a conventional office that type of person tends to take out his feelings of low self-esteem on his colleagues, in a way that impacts negatively on the effectivity of the team. I’m sorry to say this, but I have to remind you that, as well as the obvious sexual function, providing a safe outlet for that low self-esteem is part of what we here at Lightning Rods are hoping to achieve.”

“Sure, Joe, I appreciate that, but Jesus—”

“Remember, Suzanne, we don’t know the whole story. For all you know the client may have just been taken to task by someone higher up in a way that he perceived as humiliating—he may, unforgivably I know, have taken out that humiliation on you. I’m not condoning what happened for one second, let’s get clear on that one here and now, I’m just saying we have to see this in a wider context. We have to try to get this in perspective.”

And nine times out of ten he would end up having to take the gal out to lunch or even dinner at a fancy restaurant to put the unpleasant experience behind her. Because if he didn’t strategically make a suggestion of this kind sooner or later it would occur to the gal that there had to be a way of identifying the person responsible and getting back at him. And since the whole point of Lightning Rods was to eliminate the spectre of sexual harassment from the modern office this was a deeply worrying thing to have occur to someone you personally introduced into the office for the specific purpose of eliminating that cause of concern.

Over dinner like as not the gal would relax and tease him about the woman in a thousand and tell him she didn’t believe for one second that there was a woman on the planet who could just take that kind of thing as all part of the day’s work. But that was exactly where she was wrong. Joe knew just such a woman. Only he was beginning to think she wasn’t a woman in a thousand after all. A woman in a million was nearer the mark.

It reached the point where if he picked up the phone and heard a woman’s voice his heart would sink. Unless, of course, the voice belonged to Lucille.

It was thanks to Lucille that a lot of safeguards were in place that it probably wouldn’t have occurred to him to think necessary, but which in the light of later events turned out to be worth their weight in gold. For example, the fake fire alarm was Lucille’s idea. Why wait for someone to try not using a condom when you can put the fear of God in them from day one? And it was thanks to Lucille that there was a control on the woman’s side of the wall enabling her to lock the door to the disabled cubicle. Because while there was no reason to think the majority of people would not use the facility responsibly, it was just as well they should know that if anybody did get violent he would not be able to get away. Likewise, there was a device that guaranteed that the transporter would not operate if more than one person was in the disabled cubicle. Also, the door of the disabled cubicle could not be opened while the transporter was in operation; it could only be opened after the transporter had gone back to the other side.

This was to foil the type of person who not only fantasizes about a football team and a cheerleader but who takes the sexual outlet provided in his workplace as an opportunity to act out that fantasy in real life. Joe had been in no position to argue—after all, he had had that type of fantasy himself, and after all the lightning rods were living proof that the boundary between fantasy and reality is nowhere near as fixed as we sometimes imagine. And later, when the gals started hassling him over all the perceived slights they had received, he was glad he hadn’t argued. He shuddered to think what life would be like if he hadn’t taken those apparently unnecessary precautions.

What he eventually came to realize was that maybe he had been a tad undiscriminating in the applicants he took on to begin with. He wasn’t blaming himself, after all what choice did he have? If you’re recruiting for bifunctional personnel you not only need the typing skills and what have you, you also need someone who satisfies certain minimum standards of attractiveness, I mean let’s face it no one is going to thank you if he goes into the disabled toilet only to be confronted by a quivering mass of lard. And on top of that you need to find someone who is willing to do something that the majority of applicants are going to reject out of hand. Well, basically Joe had started out by accepting anyone who met the grade and wanted the job; now he was paying the price for that.

Because what he was discovering, unfortunately, was that he hadn’t ended up with a team of cool, unflappable ladies like Lucille. What had happened was he had ended up with a lot of people who were in it for the money, but who hadn’t stopped to think about what the reality of what they would have to do for the money would actually be like. In fact, unfortunately, instead of ending up with the type of person who is trying to achieve some goals, he had mainly ended up with people who didn’t have a lot of choices. He’d be looking across the desk at some gal who’d responded to an ad for rusty shorthand and 60 wpm typing, she’d be telling him what her speeds used to be before she stopped working to stay home with the kids, her husband had walked out, suddenly she was trying to meet the mortgage payments which she didn’t stand a hope in hell of doing on the level of remuneration you get with rusty shorthand and rusty 45 wpm typing. Well, obviously in one sense Lightning Rods offered her the chance to achieve a goal of keeping the house without working two jobs and never seeing the kids, but someone in that kind of situation is not going to see it in that light. He’d learned that to his cost.

Well, for a while he’d gone on taking calls from dissatisfied personnel, but there’s only so much you can take. What he wanted to say was, if you can’t stand the heat stay out of the kitchen. But a caring employer doesn’t make that kind of remark to an employee on whom a client has thoughtlessly peed. What he was finally forced to do, though it went against the grain, was to hire a staff advisor on a salary of $40,000 a year purely to talk the gals through whatever it was they were feeling. And recruiting the advisor was a job and a half! It took him two months of in-depth interviews, and time he could ill afford to waste, to come up with someone he thought could deal with the type of situation he’d been fielding singlehanded for God knew how long. He wished he could have just given the job to Lucille, but Lucille was earning so much as a lightning rod he couldn’t afford her.