Say what you will about Chris………and if it is outrageous it’s
probably true. When she was hired from
outside the company to fill the position of Action Sports Manager folks were
wondering WTAF? What has she got and
what is she going to be like to work for?
That was some fairly scary shit right there.
Maybe it was because she was so carefully watched that we
picked up some behaviors that were way outside of REI norms. Even back then there was a modicum of
REI-nice that she didn’t get the memo on, but it was clear that she knew her
hardgoods and was a promotor, the likes of which, REI had never seen before. Her mind and mouth moved faster than any internal
filters that she may have possessed so they had no shot at moderating her message. Mind to mouth at the speed of light was how
things went and she always spoke at least 25 decibels louder than everyone else
so things that she said often raised some eyebrows. She bent and broke rules, too, but they were
always the rules that had stifling, unintended and negative consequences on our
Co-op and Member’s wellbeing so everyone learned to go along whenever
possible. She always acted in her team’s
best interests which must have pissed off a few people above her pay grade. Life around Chris was always an adventure.
Action Sports (Ski and Paddling) was relegated to the
basement where the outcasts and unclean labored so Chris became the Princess of
the Netherworld managing a crew that rightly belonged underground. The basement of the Capitol Hill store was an
interesting environment. The west end of
the basement had been the ski and bike shop separated from the sales floor by a
partition wall. When the shop was
relocated to an even lower level of the netherworld that wall was pushed back
within a few feet of the building’s west exterior wall and became a storage
space of sorts. That exterior wall was
mostly frosted glass as it fronted a lightwell which made the little storage
area fairly bright during the day and cave-like at night. The floor of the lightwell was covered with
ferns and weeds. One of the weeds that
prospered there was Cannabis Sativa that had been planted and tended by Percy,
the janitor, for his personal use. I had
worked next to those windows for a few years and there was never an issue with
insects. I mention that because once
Chris became the Princess of Darkness the Blue Bottle Flies (Calliphora vomitoria) showed up in abundance and I
never let her forget it.
The tiny corner of that space that Chris called her office was
unfinished. Somebody had “completed” it
for her by nailing a couple of shelf supports to the open studs and slapping an
old piece of plywood on it that passed for her desk. A shelf was put up to hold her coffee maker
and that was pretty much it. The 2x4
blocking between the wall studs served as shelves for coffee cups, sugar, and
that vile white powder that some considered an adequate replacement for crème. A black curtain hung in front of the entrance
and served as the office door. Finally,
there was a fly swatter hanging from a nail that had been strategically placed
so that it could be grabbed and utilized quickly from a sitting or standing
position with equal aplomb.
That tiny space was a hub of activity due to the relatively high
quality of coffee that Chris kept brewed up throughout the day. Co-workers from all over the store dropped by
to pour a cup and say “Hi” before continuing about their business. Coffee cups, both clean and dirty, filled
every horizontal space and it became difficult to keep track of which belonged
to whom.
The Blue Bottle Flies were bothersome and each of us could
execute a death sentence with efficiency so long as we had room to swing the
swatter. Put two people in that space
and there was a high chance of injury by friendly fire. Three people and the risk of collateral
damaged made use of the fly swatter prohibitive and a cease-fire was
enforced. Those flies are large, lumbering
insects and their wing beats are relatively slow when compared to a mosquito so
they produce a frequency that is right in the middle of human’s range of
hearing. That means that you can hear
them from a long way off. Chris detested
them and if she heard one would stop a conversation mid-stream to locate its
position and prepare to go on the offensive.
She had a look where her eyes would get a little squinty, her jaw would
set and the corners of her mouth would slightly droop. It was a look so intense and filled with
hatred that if a lesser insect accidently drifted into her death beam their tiny
hearts would stop and they would fall out of the sky. Staff familiar with the problem would quickly
vacate the office for safety and wait until sounds abated from behind the wall indicating
that Chris had addressed the intruder with extreme prejudice. For the resilient
Calliphora vomitoria it was the look of death as Chris would allow them to
approach before drawing the swatter and sending their souls to wherever those
bastards go when they die. I’m sure I
was being cruel and didn’t help that I found her response and that look of
death so amusing that I would often fake hearing one just to watch her reaction
and laugh.
So it was in that environment that Jeff Moran came in to
interview for a job. He had a sales
background at Pilchuck Ski and Sports and a perfect understanding of
sales-as-service. He was calm,
respectful, soft-spoken and over-dressed by REI standards. He had been interviewed by the Clothing
Supervisor, Julie Johnson, who had referred him to Chris. She offered him fresh coffee which he
gracefully turned down while Chris and I both jostled in the tight space to pour
cups for ourselves.
As the interview began, I could immediately see that Jeff was better than all of us and eminently qualified for working in Action Sports. He seemed a bit reserved, though, which made me wonder if he was hard enough for Chris’ Subterranean Village of the Damned. I suspected that it may have been that he had never reported to a woman before in the male-dominated ski industry and especially one who spoke so loudly with such confidence and that hint of “I-don’t-give-a-shittedness”. There was also the issue with the “office”, that in the best light, was beyond rugged and off-putting. Crammed with three people it was downright dark and claustrophobic. I caught him looking over his shoulder trying to make his eyes focus on the fly swatter hanging next to his head. It was festooned with broken wings and dead-fly body parts that Chris considered war trophies. It may have stunk and we had just become accustomed to it. He attempted to shift away from the instrument of death but there was no place to shift to so his success amounted to only an inch or two. As the interview progressed, I could see that he was a star and I tried to make him feel more relaxed while Chris was being Chris. When I heard the low frequency hum of an incoming Blue Bottle Fly I feared that we were about to lose him.
Chris stopped talking and went into Death-Ray mode. I picked up the conversation and tried to
engage Jeff so that he wouldn’t notice Chris’ distraction and squinty eyes. I wanted this guy on our team but that wish
was now at risk as her behavior had not gone unnoticed. Luckily the fly retreated and with the threat
no longer eminent Chris’ vision cleared and she stood up to grab her coffee and
take a sip. In doing so she picked up a
cup and, feeling the weight about right, took a big slug.
What happened next was shocking and the stuff of nightmares.
Upon sensing that she had grabbed the
wrong cup and had her mouth full of cold coffee and dead flies she immediately expelled
the entire contents of her mouth onto the floor at Jeff’s feet which included three Calliphora
vomitorias and, I swear to God, one of them was still alive and wriggling. Gagging sounds intermingled with swear words ensued
and I started laughing like a maniac.
How that was interpreted by customers on the other side of
the black curtain is hard to tell. The
whole scene was so absurd and Jeff sat there trying to act as though nothing
had happened. The fact that he had such
poise under pressure and saw firsthand what a wacko crew he was signing on to
won him a job. He was the best!
So now you know the why behind the cartoon.
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