Larry Benjamin. Wordsmith. Writer. Author.

Nigel Gale @MannequinMan Have you seen ernest!’s column today? Barbara @Harvard06 No, not before my morning tea! Prometheus Jones @Theus I just read it. You may want to read it on an empty stomach Just Plain Terry (JPT) @FierceQueen Honestly, ernest! is always seeing racists under the bed. Prometheus Jones @Theus Well, in his defense, when your only tool is a hammer, everything tends to look like a nail. Barbara @Harvard06 Well, for someone with a degree in journalism, he doesn’t follow any of the rules of impartiality. ernest! had gone to the same Ivy League institution as Barbara the first, but he’d managed to circumvent accusations of privilege and access by casting his undergraduate years not as a stroll through hallowed, ivy-covered halls, but rather as an unavoidable incarceration in a PWI—Predominately White Institution. Barbara wore her Harvard degree like a gold star; ernest! wore his like a Purple Heart. ernest!’s eponymous biweekly b...

I was in the elevator when I got a text from Terry, our receptionist, a fierce, snapping, vogueing   take-no-prisoners queen.  "Better hurry!  The Devil and her evil imp are here." I wondered idly what Brett had done to earn Terry's ire already. "Chirl!" The word sailed across the lobby and exploded in my ear as I exited the elevator. . As far as I could tell “chirl” was a word of Terry’s own invention, combining the words “child” and “girl.” "Chirl! You're late.  You better move it." I waved behind my back without turning around. *** It was mid-morning before we mushrooms were called into the conference room. The room was so violently hot that each of us staggered a bit on entering. Capital B was presiding over the meeting from the middle of the conference table. Beneath a soot-colored suit, she wore a high-collared iridescent silk shirt.  In the pale light it flashed red, blue, yellow as she moved; with each movement it...

Since Capital B's web cast, we'd all been pretty quiet, anxiously awaiting the sudden arrival of her and her evil factotum, Brett.  To break the tension, TWO called an off-schedule production meeting. Production Meeting. The name was misleading as nothing was ever produced or resolved during these weekly trials of patience.   As soon as we were all seated around the conference table, TWO said, “I called this meeting, so we could talk about our apprehension and anxiety.” More than likely she was hoping to learn what we Mushrooms knew, if anything, of Capital B's plans. Twenty minutes into the meeting only Nigel had spoken up; as usual his voice was pitched so low and his enunciation so muddy it was impossible to hear what he said never mind make any sense of his mumbled words. "Why isn't anyone saying anything?"  TWO finally demanded. "Perhaps they're afraid?" one of the Cerberus ventured. "Afraid?" TWO repeated. ...

Thursday It was late in the day when it happened.  The blood-red industrial carpeting absorbed what feeble light was emitted from the overhead fluorescents; the ventilation system grudgingly released only enough oxygen to keep us conscious. The absence of light and air combined to lull everyone into a post-lunch stupor.  And then it happened.  A loud "Ping!" announced the arrival of a Memorandum of Opportunity in everyone's Inbox. M E M O R A N D U M  O F  O P P O R T U N I T Y From: National Practice Director To: All Practice Employees A Practice-wide web cast has been scheduled for this Friday at 12 noon EST.  You are all encouraged to attend.  A Lotus Notes Calendar invitation with login/dial-in information will be disseminated shortly. Our National Practice director was an abrupt woman referred to simply as "Capital B" or more familiarly as "B." At this point in time no one could remember, or agree on, what her actual name...