Appreciation

The Perils of Small Rebellions

Macker gave credit to Lily Ryburn for saying it drunk on New Year’s Eve, but Lily wouldn’t take the credit.

Macker was the one who brought the subject back up, and Celeste sort of set the hook, embracing the idea like a soft puppy and spreading the idea through the small shop like it was a cure for something.

And maybe it was a cure for something, she thought.

But now, they sat around tables, waiting for Mr. Belland to make his annual appearance.

And all seventeen employees of B&Z Manufacturing Systems ranged from uncomfortable to scared nearly incontinent.

Belland only gave raises after five years, and Celeste was the only employee who had cracked ten years.

Belland kept the shop floor cold in the winter and warm in the summer.

He allotted three sets of work gloves a month.

The off-brand snacks in the vending machine in the break room were overpriced and the toilet paper in the employee bathrooms was so thin people brought their own from home.

But every year, Belland gave the crew 1500 bucks to throw an employee appreciation party.

Celeste, who bargain hunted as a hobby, got steaks, sushi, a few appetizer trays, tons of booze, an intoxicating array of desserts and hired an 80’s cover band.

In the four years Macker had been there, three and a half wanting out, Belland had showed up, helped himself to a stiff drink, ate enough sushi that he could claim dual citizenship in Japan, gave everyone one 2 dollar scratch-off lottery ticket, and left.

This year, Macker reminded Lily she said “Is there any law saying we have to have a party? Can’t we just split the money?

Macker absolutely believed Lily remembered saying it. 

Their party this year, in the back room of an IBEW Hall that Ormond got for free, consisted of a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, a half gallon of rum Celeste brought from home, some cola to mix it with, and a party mix of music on Gary Levert’s phone.

They all split the money and waited for Belland to arrive.

The funnest part for most of them was speculating on what Belland’s reaction would be.

Only the six of them facing the door of the Wazley Memorial Meeting Room saw Belland walk in, and the look of mild shock sprang from his face and immediately dissipated.

Gary Levert had lost a side bet,but he was too nervous to pay off Macker as Belland marched straight for the rum.

A small bag of ice rested in a lime green bowl.

Belland, without a word, put ice in a cheap plastic cup, also from Celeste’s private stash.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Belland,” Lily said.

“No band this year?” Belland asked, his disinterest as palpable as disinterest can be.

“Ummm…no sir. Bands are pricey these days. Making up for lost COVID revenue, I guess.”

Mackey said it with a professional smile.

Ormond looked terrified. He was convinced Belland would ask for some of his money back. Was this technically embezzlement?

“Where’s the sushi?”

“We decided to be a little more austere this year, Edward,” Celeste said, the only employee who felt comfortable calling the boss by his first name.

Belland looked around the room.

“Considerably more austere, I would say.”

There was a note of irritation in his voice, and he took a healthy swig of straight rum over ice.

Mackey cleared his throat. He had a small speech prepared, hoping to get his coworkers a modicum of amenities, if not a raise, even if his assertiveness got him let go.

He felt wind through his nostrils on his inhale, and a rush of adrenaline.

“Mr. Belland?”

It was Lily’s voice.

Mackey stared at her.

“We appreciate the party, sir. We really do. But honestly, we all drink after work together four nights a week at the Burgundy Balloon.”

Ormond winced.

Don’t tell him we kept the money.

“We’re all friends, Mr.Belland,” Lily said  “That’s a beautiful thing if you think about it. We loan each other money when one of us needs it.”

Mackey wished he could pump his fist.

Tell that bastard, woman.

“Anyway, we thought it was kinda silly to throw a lavish party. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“People still go to the Burgundy Balloon?” Belland asked, truly surprised.

“It’s packed most nights, Edward,” Mackey said, pushing boundaries. “ It’s homey. Wing Wonderland is sterile and impersonal.”

Belland turned to Mackey, intrigued.

“It still does a good business, huh?”

“We had to start reserving a table on Friday nights,” Celeste said.

Edward Belland placed his tongue in front of his bottom row of teeth, behind his gums and nodded.

His eyes scanned his seventeen employees.

“I heard Phyllis was looking to sell. Maybe I’ll buy the place.”

***

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