"Benefits, Debbie. Not privileges." Her boss corrected her. What was the difference, Debbie thought. Of course, she did not voice her opinion to her overly aggressive, attractive female boss.
"You will have to walk to the zerox room to pick up your mail," the office manager told her. "Alexander will not be delivering it to your desk anymore. They are cutting down on the mailmen." The office manager told her.
"I never dreamed I would get to be a mailman, too," Debbie said sweetly. "What next?! What are they going to take away from us next?!"
In the cafeteria, Debbie was full of ideas.
"Are we having a Depression or what? Stores are having outrageous sales at Christmas time. All these layoffs, everywhere..."
When she first entered the doors of McGrath & O'connor, she had never dreamed this would happen. It was such a great, well known company, a household word. Could anything save it?
"The VP is hiring new people. I asked him why he doesn't put a freeze on hiring right now," Amanda said. "I think someone upstairs doesn't know what he's doing."
"If people weren't given so much credit, charging up a storm, the stores wouldn't be going out of business. Everyone owes thousands. No one wants to spend their money," Debbie said, thinking of her own Mastercard bill, which she had wracked up before she received her raise. "And then, the waste. We waste so much paper. Look at the stationery and supplies we order. And then, we change our name, or phone number and throw everything away. It's such a waste," she said. She did not know if she were making sense or not.
"Everyone wants power for themselves," she said, in between mouthfuls of chicken, rice and mixed vegetables. "They do not care about the company."
"Did you sign up to attend the benefits meeting? It is imperative that you go," her boss said.
"Yeah, I think you should," the office manager said.
Chairs were set up in rows, facing a small podium. Almost every seat was filled. Two young secretaries sat together, gossipping about work and shopping. A group of young men were discussing sports. Two elderly men were discussing the effect the new benefits package would have on Medicare. Debbie sat with her boss, Mary, and two salesmen, close to the front row. On her yellow notepad, she doodled fanciful scenes, feeling far away from the place where she was. A woman stepped up to the podium.
"Welcome to the McGrath and O'Connor annual benefits meeting. This is quite an ambitious group we have here this morning. First, we will watch a short film and then we will be on hand to answer all you questions," she spoke professionally into the microphone.
Debbie watched the boring video with heavily lidded eyes.
"OK we are now ready for you to start asking questions," the woman announced.
Debbie's eyes were starting to glaze. She thought of the tall, handsome man in her office.
"Debbie? What did that man just say?" Her boss asked her.
"Oh...I don't know. I didn't hear him," she said. She looked at her boss and blinked, her mouth parted slightly, her gaze far away. She quickly tried to hide this from her boss.
"What is this? We have one month to choose from your list of doctors. This is like picking one out of a hat. It's like a dartboard," the irate bald man in the back said.
"Is this a tax write-off or something? We have only one month to make up our minds about the benefits package before 1989 is over?" a woman suggested.
"How do we pick a doctor?" the man demanded.
"Well, you can call them," the woman said.
"What credentials and criteria do the doctors on your list meet? How do we find out these credentials?" Her boss spoke.
"You can call their offices and talk to their staff, ask for reccommendations," the woman replied.
"There are only two doctors within New York State who are on that list. What if I need a reliable gynocologist?" one woman complained.
"You've had all month to look at the list of doctors and decide. If you opened and read your benefits package which you received in the mail," the woman replied.
Debbie waited until her boss got up to leave. Mary and the salesmen had already left for lunch.
"Want to have lunch?" Debbie offered.
"No, I have to meet with my boss," her boss said nervously. "How do you know which criteria these doctors meet? She didn't answer my question very well."
"I know. She expects us to call them and ask their secretaries?" Debbie said.
"If you like the doctor you have, you should keep him. It's hard to find someone you can trust," Debbie said to Mike.
He sat at the typewriter.
"Yeah, I love my doctor. Why pay $300 a year for their insurance? I don't go that much. I can do without it."
"You really should stay with him, because it's hard to find a doctor you like," Debbie advised him, although she did not have a doctor herself since she had moved to New York.
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