“Sometimes,” I tell her, “it’s immediately apparent that the complaint has merit and, in that case, it may be appropriate to simply fire the offender on the spot. In other cases, it might not be so clear-cut, but you always, always investigate and if you have any trouble getting to the bottom of the situation, don’t be afraid to talk to Jessica—I mean as your store manager, not as her role in this scenario—if you’re not sure how to approach it. With some kinds of harassment, you’ll even need to call the police.”
We go on for a few more minutes until all of Cheryl’s questions are answered, and then we get back into character.
The rest of the scenario plays out and Cheryl does an outstanding job. When Jessica enters Cheryl’s “office,” she’s unrepentant and, the case being cut-and-dried, Cheryl fires the employee.
Despite a rocky start, the next couple of situations go off without a hitch and we finally come to a logical stopping place for the day.
Jessica invites Cheryl to join us for lunch and we all go out and have a pleasant enough time.
That all changes, though, as soon as the store’s locked up, Cheryl’s on her own way and I’m back in the car with Jessica.
“What the fuck was that?” she asks.
“I’m sorry about laughing,” I tell her. “You just really caught me off-guard with the whole ‘Hey man, nice dick’ thing.”
“Do you have any idea how serious sexual harassment is?” she asks. “Of course you don’t, you’re a construction guy with a team of construction workers. Sexual harassment is what your people do.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure that was sexual harassment,” I tell her.
“And I thought we were going to have her run through the thing without any help that first time. You completely undercut my authority all morning,” she accuses.
“Whoa,” I start. “I’m not saying I did a perfect job all around, but I was not trying to undercut your authority at all. She asked me a question—a good question, I might add—and I gave her some direction. As sexual harassment is such a serious thing, I think it’s best to know as much about what to do as possible. I would actually suggest springing for a course for your employees, or at least Cheryl as a manager, on sexual harassment and what to do when or if it happens.”
“This is why I hate doing this,” she says. “I’m no good at it and I just come off like an idiot. Meanwhile, the meathead steals the show and comes off like he should be running things instead of me.”
“Meathead?” I ask. “Seriously? I get that you’re upset, but I don’t see how insulting my intelligence is going to make anything better.”
“Never mind,” she says. “I’ll just take you home.”
This—whatever this is between Jessica and me—is going to be more difficult to navigate than I thought.
“I thought we were all going to go to lunch,” I tell her.
“Well, Cheryl’s already gone and I’m pissed at you. I don’t really see the point right now,” she answers.
I know better than to put the words “calm” and “down” anywhere near each other right now, but given this particular situation, I’m finding it extremely difficult.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds, and I certainly wasn’t trying to undercut you in any way. I really do apologize for the way I acted at the beginning of that role play and during the whole currency thing,” I tell her. “If it’ll help at all—”
“The currency thing?” she asks. “What are you talking about?”
“The currency thing,” I tell her. “You know, when you went on for five minutes about how to tell a Canadian dollar from an Australian dollar.”
“What about it?” she asks.
Danger! Danger!
“Never mind,” I tell her. “It was nothing.”
“Tell me,” she says.
“Well, do you accept foreign currency?” I ask.
“Not as a general rule, no,” she answers.
“Couldn’t you have just told her that?” I ask.
She sighs. “I know. As soon as I started going into that, I realized it was a mistake, but I felt like I had to keep going with it until I reached a believable stopping place. I just get so nervous with this sort of thing. I really have no experience training managers.”
“I know,” I tell her, “and I really am proud of you for what you’re doing. It’s not easy to start doing things differently than you’re used to. I’d just say try to relax a bit and it’ll come.”
She starts the car and glances over at me.
“You do have a nice dick, by the way,” she says, smiling.
I chuckle, saying, “Why thank you, it’s always nice to be appreciated.”
“Do you still want to go to lunch?” she asks.
“Yeah, I could eat,” I tell her. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I don’t know,” she says and starts to pull out of the parking spot.
Her phone rings.
“Would you mind answering that for me?” she asks. “I really don’t like to talk and drive if it’s at all avoidable.”
“Sure thing,” I tell her and pull the phone from her purse. I answer the phone with a “hello?”
“Who’s this?” a woman asks.
“This is Eric,” I answer. “Jessica asked me to answer the phone.”
“Oh,” the woman says, “this is Kristin, Jessica’s sister. Can you just tell her that Mom’s in the hospital and she needs to get up there?”
I cover the phone and tell Jessica to park the car.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
I hand her the phone and answer, “I think I should drive.”
When we get to the hospital we walk through the doors and Jessica finds a nurse, asking her where to find room 235. She points us in the right direction, and we just go.
Kristin didn’t have a lot of details for Jessica, but she said that there mom had fallen and that the doctors were concerned that her cancer had spread farther than they had thought.
I hold her hand as we get on the elevator, but when the doors open, she runs out ahead of me.
Kristin’s coming down the hall, a look of terror on her eyes. As I approach, she says, “They took her in for surgery. They’re going to try to remove all of the cancer, but Jessica, it’s spread.”
“What are they saying? Is she going to be all right?” I hear Jessica ask.
“I don’t know,” Kristin says, tears forming and falling from her eyes. “It’s really bad, Jessica. She’s had it for a long time, and they don’t know if they’re going to be able to get it all or if they’re going to be able to treat it. The doctor says he’s still…”
Jessica hugs Kristin close, allowing both of them the security to break down. I want to help, but I don’t want to be in their way, either.
I don’t know what to do here.
“Where’s Dad?” Jessica asks.
“He’s in Mom’s room watching a World War II documentary,” Kristin laughs, breaking some of the tension. “I think they’re up to the Battle of the Bulge.”
There’s no sign from Jessica that she wants me to follow them, so, not wanting to invade a very solemn family moment, I let Jessica know that I’ll be right out here in the waiting room if she needs anything.
She turns her head and says, “Thank you,” before walking off with her sister.
After about an hour, I walk up to the room and ask if I can get anything for anyone.
The father, startled by my presence, stands up and walks over to me, saying, “I’m Harold, Jessica and Kristin’s father. You must be Eric.”
“I am,” I answer and shake his hand. “I’m sorry to meet you under such difficult circumstances.”
“Well, we don’t pick the situations, the situations pick us,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I didn’t know if anyone was hungry or thirsty or if you guys needed anything,” I start.
Jessica shakes her head and Kristin ignores me entirely. Harold thanks me for the offer, but tells me that none of them are likely to eat anything until the surgery’s completed.
“All right,” I say. “Just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right out here.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Jessica asks.