Businessmen
By: Laura Eberhart Goodman
Tags: Short Story, Fiction, Education

Perpetually the eavesdropper, I overheard a conversation recently that caused me to lean from my chair at such an angle that I almost fell into an embarrassing heap on the floor. The conversation itself was not shocking in context; however I still found it all to be a bit alarming. It went something like this:

(Disclaimer: Their names are what I imagined they should be, based on attire, grooming, and the general aura which I judgmentally attached based on my snooping.)

William: I have so much to do when I get home. You wouldn’t believe it. There’s no way I can have it done by tomorrow. I shouldn’t even be here now. I should be at home working.

Frank: I’ll bet I can trump you. I’ve got my regular load and a huge project due by the end of the week. It’s impossible.

Sal: I don’t even understand what I’m working on. I’m going to have to get some extra help or something. It just doesn’t make any sense to me at all, and she expects me to have it done by Monday. Monday! She’ll be lucky if I can get it done by the end of the month.

Stuart: I hear you. I’ve got a lot going on, too. Stupid, busy-work but it has to get done. I need a break though. Anyone want to hang out after this? Maybe walk over to the park? I’ve got to get some energy out.

William: I wish I could, but I’ve got to be in bed early tonight. There’s no way I can get all of this work done unless I head straight home.

Stu: Did you see Emma today? Just burst into tears and ran out crying. The workload got to her. She cracked under the pressure.

Stuart: I can’t even think anymore; I so badly need a break. Sitting in a chair for six hours a day is making me crazy. I’m about to start crying and run out myself, because at least then I won’t be stuck in that stupid chair anymore!

Frank: Oh man, I hear you. I thought it was just me. Sometimes I’m just sitting there, totally zoned out. When I heard Emma crying I realized that I hadn’t done any work in an hour!

Sal: Try sitting there when you have no idea what you’re doing. It makes the day go even slower. I think I’m going to have to just give it up soon. I’m a failure at this. There has to be a better way.

Stuart: You’re not a failure, Sal. It’s a tough job. You can do it. Don’t worry about it so much. C’mon. Let’s just take a break. It will make everything easier.

Amidst grumbles of protest, Stuart, Sal, Frank, and William dismounted from their chairs, sliding forward from their seats until their feet, which were dangling above the ground, hit the floor. Their mothers stood up also, addressing the ketchup on the boys’ faces with wet napkins, and tucking their shirts back in. The children chased each other briefly around the chairs, squeezing in an impromptu game of tag while their mothers paid the bill. They were rapidly rounded up and chastised, then walked together out of the restaurant, down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the park.

I watched as Stuart grabbed his mother’s hand, trying to drag her the other way, but she shook her head “no”, pulling his arm sharply. He threw himself to the ground in a protest of tears. I watched her sigh as she picked him up and carried him away from the window, patting his back while he sobbed, his arm still pointing at the park, where his childhood lay, abandoned.