No Good Deed . . ._The Wood Beneath Our Nails_101 Dosas_In The Event
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No Good Deed . . .
No Good Deed . . . By Marguerite Schneider"This story is a fictionalized composite of several work experiences. Names and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect their identity, as has the organizational setting and context. Any resemblance to actual persons, events or organizations is purely coincidental."A new Vice President of Customer Service (VP CS) was appointed at OMEGA Corporation, a major IT firm headquartered in NYC that had the deserved reputation for being a Darwinian workplace. Mephistopheles had been hired in an orchestrated process in which the other jo...
The Wood Beneath Our Nails
“I hate it here.”“You do?”“Yes. It’s stuffy and cramped and–”“Old?”“Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it.”“I guess it’s a bit… vintage.”“Vintage? This thing has to be falling apart. I wouldn’t be surprised if the roof caved in.”“Remember when we loved it?”“No.”“Remember when we cherished how we could scrape at the decaying wood, the feeling of it in our fingernails?”“Gross.”“Luce, I’m not saying I’d do it now. I just mean it meant something to us at one point.”“Yeah, when I was, like, three. I hardly remember this place.”“You were ten.”“Still.”“We practically grew up here.”“I wouldn’t ...
101 Dosas
Dosa has been a constant in my life ever since I got the first explosion of Andhra gunpowder in my mouth. It is steadfast, satisfying, and never leaves a bitter aftertaste. Today, I need to order something big. Like a 4-foot-long dosa, with a bucketful of sambar, a mound of mashed potato, and four types of chutney. To celebrate my release from the clutches of a salad-munching witch, who snorted gingerly every time she rode on my pillion to this hallowed hall. I look at the menu of 101 Dosas, even though I know it like the back of my hand by now. Believe it or not, I have even written an essay ...
In The Event
In the EventFirst, it was the phone in the study. They both ignored it. To answer it was to surrender or worse to agree. Then it was the siren and flashing lights coming from the alarm panel in the hallway. That continued for minutes until something had to be said. “What did you do?” Leona yelled from the kitchen.“I didn’t do anything,” Leonora rewww.onedoor.ccplied, as she came down the stairs. “What did YOU do?”“You were here with that creep with the weird face.”“You were here, too. How else would you know?”Had they been able to cooperate they might have avoided blame. But they were not and so it fell upo...