CONVENTIONAL BOREDOM - FURIOUS FICTION - AUSTRALIAN WRITERS' CENTRE - NOVEMBER 2021

This is my November entry for the Australian Writers’ Centre's Furious Fiction contest. Not much to comment this month, other than it's nice to put the story up here and give it a place a place to live. Steered away from my usual sci-fi / horror weirdness for a change and had a spot of bother coming up with a title, which I still don't love. Otherwise, I like this and I hope you do too.

In addition to the 500 word maximum and a three day window to write it, the rules for November:

• Your story must include someone PACKING A SUITCASE.
• Your story must include the phrase “ACROSS A CROWDED ROOM” (as dialogue or narrative).
• Your story must include the words CHARM, CRUSH and FAINT.

The presentation was a joke. ‘The Beginner’s Guide to Optimizing your Synergistic Business Agility,’ it was called. Which as far as I can tell, means absolutely nothing. I sat across a crowded room, where on stage an overconfident man with some fancy Powerpoint slides, but not nearly enough charm to be doing this for a living, packed and re-packed a suitcase in order to illustrate a crude metaphor for decision making at work. At least, I think that’s what it was. I’d kind of tuned out by that stage. I think his beach towel was supposed to be the workforce, and his sunglasses were the upper management. I forget what the point of the espadrilles were. All I really got out of it was that the man knows how to pack a bag. And ‘good luck to him’ is what I say. It’s a good skill to have. Nobody likes to pay extra to check luggage on a flight. 

I wasn’t even supposed to be there. But my colleague, Margaret, was blowing up balloons for her dog’s birthday (also called Margaret… don’t ask), got lightheaded, fainted and sailed down a flight of stairs, where she selfishly broke her coccyx. My boss, Mr Donaldson, informed me I was taking her place at the boredom conference.

But I’m trying to be more of a ‘glass half full’ type person. Find the best in a situation. That type of outlook. So as the speaker continued to drive his metaphor into the ground, I stole a glance around the room and you know what I saw? I saw a lot of opportunity. Oh yeah, I probably should’ve lead with this: I’m a thief.

It’s not like I’m some common criminal.  I’m just really, really good at it. If any kids are out there right now, hoping to get into thievery, let me give you one word of advice. Practice. A concert pianist plays every day. An Olympic athlete trains every day. I steal every day. You have to hone it to perfection if you want to crush it and be the best.

So as the presentation came to a close and the assembled, bleary eyed throng rose to its feet, as if roused from a comforting nap. I used the moment to slip on stage. While the presenter was disentangling himself from his microphone wires, I lifted the suitcase in my left hand and walked out the door like I owned the place.

I took a bottle of wine from behind the bar as I left and not one person tried to stop me. I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon on this beach, lying on the ‘workforce’ and shielding my eyes with the ‘upper management’. Still not sure what those espadrilles are meant to be though.