The only thing worse than spending an evening at a Holiday office party with employees you wouldn’t spend a minute with outside of work is listening to those same employees bootlick their way to the top. There’s always that one suck up who makes the rest of us look like amateurs. At the Hilltop Shores Magazine Company, his name was Larry.
A man who looked well past retirement age still smiling and dialing in our call center. The highest earner. The top dog. A gravelly voice that soothed those listening on the other end of the phone. They always signed up for the magazine, and renewing their subscription was a no-brainer.
As the only person below forty in a team of ten call center agents, I had trouble earning respect, but that was okay. It didn’t bother me. I was a thirty-five-year-old woman purely there to get a paycheck. But cold calling residential homes is a tough gig, and the longer I went on, the more jealous I got of those who excelled at their craft.
When our manager told us about the Secret Santa game we would be participating in for the Holiday party, my reluctance to attend vanished when I landed on Larry from the hat filled with names. I couldn’t think of a single person on the planet who deserved a taste of their own medicine more than Larry. With humorous gifts being the focal point of the event, I found a mug that was perfect for the occasion.
“Larry, you’re up!” our manager Fred said amongst the group.
Larry adjusted his bright red tie and pulled his thin strands of gray hair that rested atop his blotchy head to right side of his face.
“What can it be? I can’t wait to see what it is. You guys are too kind,” Larry said, giddy all over.
Larry methodically unwrapped the gift, making sure the wrapping paper could be reused. “Oh, a coffee mug, how thought—’
Larry’s smile soured. A nervous, embarrassed smirk morphed into blushing cheeks. “A cup full of me. It says a cup full of me. Who bought this for me?”
Laughter bubbled inside of me, tickled my tongue, before it spewed out. A cackle that shook the cubicles. All eyes on me.
“I’m sorry, but I had to. It’s a joke you know, since—let’s be honest—your kind of a goodie two-shoes.”
Regret filled the pit of my stomach. Larry gritted his teeth and just stared at me for what felt like an eternity. A duel of telemarketing sales reps. Who would make the next move? I said nothing, waited for a verbal thrashing. But it never came. Instead, Larry retreated to the back of the room to grab a cookie.
Secret Santa continued, but Larry’s brooding prevented me from enjoying the festivities. There never came a quiet moment for me to apologize, to make amends; Larry avoided me for the remainder of the party. Never even shot a glance at me. I went home carrying with me a guilt that stuck with me for the coming days.
Through a co-worker, I learned that Larry lived only a few blocks from me. One Saturday evening, I was doing my nightly stroll when I decided to pay Larry a visit. I felt awful about destroying his confidence. Since the Holiday party, I had noticed a decline in Larry’s enthusiasm on the phone.
The door opened before I could knock.
“Brenda, what a welcome surprise. Don’t get many visitors around here. What brings you over this evening?”
“Larry, I wanted to apologize for the gift and my behavior at the Holiday party. I took it too far. I’m truly sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
“Nonsense! You hit the nail on the head. I needed a reality check.”
Larry craned his neck back to the kitchen and promptly returned his eyes on me. “You know, while I have you here, I’m just finishing up a tub of the ole’ spaghetti and meatballs. I’d love the company if you are free for a meal.”
It was the least I could do, I thought. No harm in dinner with a work colleague. My eyes were immediately drawn to the picture frames on the mantel.
“I didn’t know you were married,” I said.
Larry’s eyes watered. “My dear Debbie, how I miss her so. Lost her thirteen years ago. Sit sit, let’s eat.”
After exchanging some pleasantries, the uncomfortableness ratcheted up.
“So, Brenda. Isn’t this the best pasta dish you’ve ever had? It’s my specialty.”
I nodded even though the meal was adequate at best. “It’s good, thanks for sharing it with me tonight.”
“Good? Just good? I’m not convinced you love it. More water? Your cup is almost empty.”
“Sure, thanks.”
Larry stood up and walked behind me but stopped directly next to my right shoulder. He reached into my plate and dug his meat hooks into the spaghetti, grabbed a clump of noodles and shoved them into my mouth. Holding his hands firmly against my lips, he tried to suffocate me with the food.
“I’m the top dog, but you know that already. You should be singing my praises with this meal. You’re just jealous. You wish you were as good as me, don’t you?” Larry pressed harder against my mouth. “Don’t you?”
I flailed around helplessly but managed to kick the table and fall back to the ground, tripping Larry in the process. While Larry was winded, I got up, grabbed a knife and aimed it at him. Tears swelled in Larry’s eyes.
“Debbie and I were together for thirty years, but one night I snapped. She told me she hated my cooking, had been pretending to like it the entire time we were together. So, I killed her. Shut her up for good.”
My hand trembled, almost dropped the knife.
“But the silence got to me. I needed to connect with others, so I took the job at Hilltop Shores. Customers love talking to me. I’m great at building relationships.”
While Larry rambled, I pulled out my cell and called the police. Larry sat up and positioned himself against the kitchen sink cabinet.
“Everybody likes me. Everybody likes Larry.”
I ran outside and waited for the authorities. They eventually found Debbie’s bones buried in Larry’s backyard. He confessed. I never saw him again after that incident. While the events rattled me, I ended up keeping my job at the magazine. It was a breath of fresh air not hearing the nauseating small talk from Larry two desks over. I guess you should always be wary of someone who can’t take a joke.