The Third Part of Chapter 11: Spreading Ripples

At five on that same evening, the phone rang, and Ryan picked it up.

“Hello Ryan,”

It was Clarissa. “Hello Clarissa. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Really? My son got you pregnant? I’m so glad for you. Did you tell James yet?”

“No, he’s working late tonight.”

“How far are you into your term?”

“About seven weeks.”

“That’s excellent; I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear the news when he gets home.”

Ryan told Patricia, and she happily ruminated. “Finally, we’ll have a grandchild; I so dearly want a grandchild!”

“Me too, honey,”

“We can have him or her over for Canada Day, and next Halloween will be so joyous,” she said, and continued rhapsodising about Clarissa’s pregnancy and praising her son’s happy marriage until dinner.

James meanwhile was in Maurice’s office.

“The company isn’t doing too well; sales are down, you know. You know it’s very difficult for me to tell you that we’re going to have to…how shall I put this?”

“You’re laying me off?”

“Yes. We’re very sorry to let you go.” Maurice still felt uncomfortable about being the one responsible for the bad news, which was why he used “we’re” rather than “I’m”.

“Is this permanent?”

“Yes, unfortunately. You know, we also had to let Arlene, Fred and Riley go last week. We need to consolidate.”

“I understand,” said James, his voice faltering a bit.

“Please don’t make a scene in my office. It was hard enough watching Courtney when I did this. You have until the end of the day at six, and before you get too discouraged, you were a real asset to us over these past five years; you have a great future ahead of you, so just remember to keep a happy face.”

“Perhaps I should have been expecting this,”

“Yes, it’s very tough; anyways, you may always use me as a reference in your future job-seeking, and I’m sure others at the office would also be very glad to be references. You have their phone numbers, I presume?”

James went back to his office; the same thing had happened to Karim and Courtney earlier in the morning. Karim took it well enough, he thought; Courtney, on the other hand, was bawling as she left Maurice’s office for her own to gather her files. How shall I break the news to Clarissa, he pondered; we must delay our plans for a baby for now, as I think my unemployment will last a while. The situation put him to mind something a journalist said to him: a conscripted soldier said to his king, “why me?” The king responded, “Because”. There did not have to be a particularly good reason; after all, there was no good reason that the economy was not doing that well; the recession had been hard, like all others, on the labour force, and the economy was taking a while to recover. He also felt powerless, rather like that proverbial soldier; he was a lamb, offered at the altar of economic efficiency, or some other sacred and enshrined concept so worshipped by business managers the world over. He had spent years studying this, and it still seemed to him an arcane and twisted subject, with its own logic. He then remembered one of the reasons cited: Inxton Car Seats; in the fateful meeting, the name had struck a bell with James, and now he knew why: it was their cancelled shareholders meeting that had freed up time at the convention centre for the wedding reception; now he regarded that event not as a blessing, but as a curse; perhaps he would remember it for a while for something seeming other than what it really was, a sign of impending hardship rather than luck and convenience.

Courtney had left the office earlier in the day, and she was taking the bus home to Chelsea. The scene she had made in the office had been cathartic for her, but her unemployment left her feeling powerless; it was like she was treading water, and she had no idea of her next move. Then she resolved herself; she was twenty-six, and would not take this lying down; she was youthful, she was energetic, and now she had experience working for Maurice. Many employers would want someone like me, she thought. With the money she had, she had about six months worth of savings built up on which she could live, and then there were the Employment Insurance payments for which she was eligible; now, the problem was, where should she submit her résumé? With all of this on her mind, she ignored the greenery that was moving past her, something she did not normally do: the leaves on the trees, regardless of the colour, always soothed her when there was nothing overly burdensome on her mind, as was the case at that moment. At any rate, she thought, she would have good contacts with Maurice and James.

Maurice thought that on the one hand, they were becoming slimmer, and everybody will work smarter. Wait a minute; that is simply useless business jargon that is such a clear indicator of a paucity of creativity. The real reason always runs: we are losing money (which is the case) and we must make some very painful cuts. It is true, after all; sales are down, just as I told James, Courtney and Karim. On the other hand, there is the risk that we will be run dry; that was the fate of Isis Incorporated. Those people continued to cut their staff, and they were left with just the president and his son, and then nobody. A warning then, he resolved: that cannot happen here! It happened with the automakers, it happened with that bank; we must avoid corporate anorexia; his layoff must be the last! Speaking of which, where should we be looking for expansion opportunities? Le Chateau? Brogue? Research in Motion? How about OpenText? They all seemed like decent prospects.

James took the bus home as always, but while he usually napped on the bus for while, today he went through his options, agitated; it was clear that he had to find a new job; otherwise, he would be unable to look Clarissa in the eye. It was also clear that he would need to take a new job soon, but it escaped him where he could look. Always consider the government: they hire many economists, he told himself. If not, he could simply work in a store somewhere. His new unemployed status also made him much more apprehensive at starting a family; that would have to wait until he was certain of employment.

“Hi, can I sit here? Thanks,” said a lady when she boarded the bus.

“Of course,” said James as the woman sat beside him; in contrast to himself, the woman was humming happily to herself.

“Glum?”

“Yeah,” said James, not wishing to draw attention to his emotions, which would invite questions as to the reasons, which would lead to an uncomfortable explanation of his unemployment.

“That’s too bad. I’m Linette, by the way. I work at Cognos.”

“Good company,”

“Mostly,” she said. “There’s this one woman I don’t like; she’s kind of obnoxious. Thank goodness she’s not my boss. I think she’s in line for the chopping block; she made fun of a client’s accent yesterday,”

“Bad idea. I’m with Valoix consulting,” said James, careful to omit the word “work.”

“They’re in the building down the street, aren’t they?”

“Yes,”

The conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and the rest of the ride passed in an awkward silence.

He got off at Somerset to do some grocery shopping at Hartman’s, firstly because they needed groceries, and secondly because he wanted to take his mind off worries. He left the store with some vegetables, milk, and potato chips, on which he snacked as he made the remainder of the trip home.

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The Second Part of Chapter 11: Spreading Ripples

James and Clarissa spent the evening discussing plans for Halloween.

“I’ve been wanting to go out as Groucho Marx for quite a while,”

“I’ve been looking for something suggestive; I saw quite a selection of dirty nurse costumes at the costume store,”

“What costume store was this? Do you mean Aren’t We Naughty? Well, I don’t have any problem with you dressing––if it can be called that––like that before, well, you know. For a Halloween party––”

“Oh, don’t worry about the Halloween party. Eunice said yesterday that she was going as a witch.”

“That’s not overtly sexual,”

“You didn’t see the costume. It was very tight; I didn’t see her wearing it, but it looked like that, given the size of the dress and the size of her body. It has fishnet stockings, and was ripped in all the right places.”

“You’re making my Groucho Marx idea sound boring,”

“If that’s the case, then let me make clear to you that I have no issue whatsoever with you dressing like Tarzan, or even more sparingly, if not for Halloween.”

“Like Tarzan? With my body?”

“I don’t care about the type of body you have; I married you for your personality,” she replied, kissing him. His hand caressed her back, and then travelled downwards, with her hand guiding his.

“If I dress like Tarzan, will you dress like Jane?” They had scenes like this quite often, thought James as he recalled their encounter in Margaret’s house, which had begun with a similar conversation about clothing that had ended quite well for the both of them. They were doing this almost nightly, despite the fact that the previous night, this had resulted in the destruction of a lamp, and Clarissa had had the misfortune to knock a cactus from its perch on the windowsill while she was wearing a blindfold.

“I hear that one of my friends simply puts on the mask of a different politician every year; I call him a geek for it. This year, he said he was going out as Bruce Meach, with tomato juice spattered all over himself, of course. He also said something about a crown,”

“I just thought: would you like me as a banshee?”

“I wouldn’t mind in the least,”

On Thursday, the scene was much different; James was eating a bag of chips when he found he could not finish them off. It was not just that, it was also that they were his favourite kind: sour cream and onion. For some reason, he found the chips too salty, and this had never occurred before. Perhaps it was a premonition of something, he thought. In an attempt to banish these thoughts from his mind, he turned to something much more reassuring, of which he felt much surer: his work. Maurice had a meeting with Jonathan, and was most impressed. It was true that they had lost some manufacturing businesses; a faucet company, Omega, had went under, a Bank in the States that had previously been expanding into Canada found it was too loaded with unredeemable debts, the car seat maker had gone in August, and just yesterday, a maker of industrial lasers had downsized and viewed economic consulting as a frivolity, among others, but there was still comfort in the large pile of work waiting for him on his desk tomorrow. He then considered the company’s books: he had passed them over since May, but surely, they must be doing all right, what with five new clients. He then heard Clarissa re-enter from her short trip to the convenience store for milk.

“Hi Clarie,”

“Hi Jimmy,”

Clarissa crossed over to the kitchen with two bags; one contained the milk, and the other contained an assortment of other stuff that he could not see; there seemed to be two grocery bags, one inside the other. It being a tiring day for James, he went to sleep at ten, which was early for him.


That same evening, Margaret was wondering when her daughter would phone; that speculation ended the next day. “Hi mom,” said Clarissa, sounding bright and chipper to Margaret over the phone.

“Hello dear, you sound very happy today. What’s the occasion?”

“I’m pregnant!”

“He got you pregnant?” the disdain in Margaret’s voice was evident. James seemed like such a cold fish to her, she thought. How is he going to raise a child? He also seems far too nice; she and Hyram didn’t raise Clarissa that way, she thought. Although there might be some room for joy, she did not communicate that to her daughter by way of the tone of her voice, which instead sent a message of disapproval.

“Mother! You’re making it sound like pregnancy in wedlock is disreputable,”

“Oh, sorry. But really? With him? When?”

“Two months ago. It happened about a week before the wedding,”

“Weren’t you at our place that weekend?”

“Yes, and what do you mean, ‘with him’? He’s my husband, and procreation is the most ancient and time-honoured purpose of marriage.”

“Don’t you think it’s rather early to be starting a family with this man?”

“I know you have your own opinions, but look: I have my income, he has his, and we shall have ample money to raise a child, and really, I don’t see any point in waiting; it’s inevitable in the end,”

“Well, I’m glad, I guess; it’s your decision, as you said. But please make sure you don’t drink anything, eat lots of good food, not that fatty stuff James likes that only masquerades as food, and get plenty of sleep at night. I want a healthy second grandchild!”

“When did you guess that about Jim’s eating habits? I don’t think I mentioned to you what he eats,”

“I have eyes, you know, and I saw several trays piled with deep-fried objects––I will not honour them with the label ‘food’––at the wedding, and James was grazing on them well into the night, do you remember?” She had actually heard this from Eunice.

“All right; thank you for impressing the point upon me,”

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The First Part of Chapter 11: Spreading Ripples

James spent Wednesday morning at work trying to fill in the hole left by Inxton Car Seats; he felt rather guilty about letting the file slip through his fingers; while their bankruptcy had freed up the convention space for his wedding, he was still suffering the repercussions; Maurice had said they needed to cut costs somehow, and would no longer be filling the water cooler, and would be selling their parking allotment in their office building; it was purchased by an entrepreneur looking to turn it into bike storage, which many people in the office thought was a good idea; James and Colleen had both praised him, in person and when he wasn’t around, for taking initiative, and wondered whether he had any other plans; Colleen had promised to be a loyal customer. He then spent an extended lunch hour perusing the stock listings in the business sections of The Globe and Mail while eating a bag of potato chips. The fall effect had set in, by which stocks typically do poorly in September and October, and thus he had seen plenty of down days in the markets; he was beginning to rue the investment choice he had made in January, betting that a silver mine in Bolivia would be doing well; such was not the case, and he was regretting that decision to the tune of two thousand dollars; that was his only major stock purchase in the year, he noted with consternation. Gambling at points pays off, and playing the stock market in such a fashion was gambling; there was the issue of first movers, for instance, making innovation and staking mineral claims essentially a horse race, with investors turning into gamblers betting on the winner. When it fails to pay off, James found, there were serious issues concerning what the hell he was doing playing around with his money. When one did well, on the other hand, there would be congratulations all around. Patricia was the one who normally said this, but she was now taking the pressure off concerning some of his poorer investing choices, and was focussing her attention on Katherine, quietly pressuring her to find a boyfriend.

“Something on your mind, Jim?” It was Karim, who was working with Colleen on the marketing strategy while juggling two accounts.

“Just the news,”

“It always is,”

He then read the editorials, and he could see a prominent piece by Helena Perari, doing what she did best: the commentary was a stern lecture to Mopps Sousa about keeping promises to the army. “When one says you are not going to spend more than a year on a mission, you live up to your word; never make a promise you cannot keep,” he read; the article then went into the ramifications of making promises one would not keep, and finished with a righteous bout of proselytising on the lies politicians say to get elected. “It unquestionably diminishes the value of public participation in government, and does nothing to help the good name of democracy,” she finished. James thought Sousa’s tendency to give grandiloquent and overlong speeches about various subjects unrelated to the army mildly entertaining; the one for which Perari had been chiding him saw him talk about posterity, and James had the impression that Mopps Sousa was ignorant of the meaning of posterity.

James was home early, due to him having finished most of his work, and with all clients reasonably happy, he decided to stop for the day. Thus, he was home at four thirty, as opposed to the normal six thirty. He part read a chapter from The Wealth of Nations (It was the one on taxation), and, most remarkably, managed to stay awake without having his eyes drift all over the page or putting the book down and getting preoccupied with something else. At five, he busied himself with dinner, which that night was to be mussels and sauce, served over rice. That James was cooking meant that the rice had a quarter teaspoon of salt in it, as did the sauce. This being mussels, it was ready within half an hour, and he ate then, but alone, and salted his food, as was his habit; Clarissa didn’t arrive home until much later, and the dinner he had served onto a plate for her was cold.

“You didn’t say you’d be home so late,” said James as Clarissa entered. It was seven, and she was normally home before six.

“Sorry, I just had this meeting that dragged on and on endlessly, and some person from Finance or wherever was droning about the account of something or other. It must have been the Union’s pension plan, that’s it. Anyways, they’re looking into investments; I can’t see why they don’t just buy stocks at random. All of us know that luck and random chance are just as good models for stock market behaviour as the most sophisticated modelling instruments,”

“Ah yes, the market as giant casino model; it’s my favourite one, though not one that the stock analysts take kindly to; it implies their job is pointless,”

“Yeah, thank goodness Vilia slumped over and the guy who called the meeting decided it was time to end it. Yvon then made an off-colour comment about my ass. ‘It’s growing rather large,’ he said. I retorted with a remark about his caboose, and then he asked me how much turkey I had on Saturday,”

“There was someone like that when I worked at Scotiabank; he would always be womanising, he was a real chauvinist, and would make all sorts of smart-Alec remarks about the women,”

“What happened to him?”

“Management shipped him off to Peru to manage branch operations there.”

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