Christmas Resentment
What to do if your holiday feeling isn't feeling good.
by Patricia Hilliard
(C) Dec. 2015
Words: 3461
Rosemary Fulmar had been working for four years as a secretary at the law firm of Arden, Delaney and Snyder. She thought it was a nice place to work, partly because the office was in an old house listed with the historic register. The house was covered with shingles of natural wood. The building sat on a sandstone foundation. The slate gray porch had clay flower pots on the corners with geraniums that looked as bright red as poinsettias.
As Rosemary rounded the corner from the bus stop, she saw old Mr. Earl Arden. He always arrived at the office before anyone else to put out an old fashioned 1700s American flag. She watched him step back, put his hands on his hips and proudly gazed up at it. He really believed in America.
“Good morning, Rose,” Mr. Arden said as Rose climbed the steps of the porch.
“Good morning, Mr. Arden.”
“It’s a beautiful day to be alive, isn’t it?”
Arden raised his hands toward the sun and looked at Rose. Seeing his smile, she knew she ought to agree.
And why not? It was a beautiful day. Rose wished she could go farther up the hill to the park that looked out over the river valley. But she was a secretary. Needed the job. Had to work to pay the bills. Especially now, to help her young daughter take care of the new grand-baby. It was amazing to be a grandmother at age 38, but it happens!
Rose mostly liked working at Arden, Delaney and Snyder because of that special place in the basement. The basement had a small modern kitchen with a maple wood table and chairs. Above the sink was a large picture of a sunny meadow and on the shelf was a radio she could listen to during lunch. Of all the places she had worked, Rose had never had such a cozy place to eat lunch.
Rose now made her way to the kitchen to tuck her lunch into the refrigerator. She passed through the hallway lined with book shelves full of books. Rose loved books. At lunchtime she would pick one out and read it while she ate her hot soup and grilled cheese sandwich. She already finished one book called The Jungle about working in the dangerous and terrible meat industry in the 1920s. There was another book called Grapes of Wrath about farm workers struggling to survive during a drought and there was Rose’s favorite—so much a favorite that she wanted to take the book home with her. It was Jane Eyre. What a novel that was! The story of one woman’s struggle in a world so set against her.
Rose made a pot of coffee, took a cup for herself and then climbed two flights of stairs to her office at the top, which, historically, used to be a bed room. Her desk was nestled between file cabinets piled high with “red welds” and folders of long-closed court cases. Rose looked at all the papers piled on her desk. So much work. She listened as Mr. Arden came in downstairs and opened the squeaky parlor doors of what was now a main conference room where they did the depositions. She glanced at the calendar. Yes, clients would be coming soon along with attorneys to discuss the worker’s compensation cases, the divorces and the child custody issues that so many of the clients had.
By ten o’clock, Marisa Wellington would arrive. That was the moment Rosemary dreaded. Quick, check the calendar again, would Marisa be in all of today? Hopefully she would be heading off to court. No, no such luck. Marisa would be in all day. Rose sighed. Now she needed to get everything done for Marisa so that it wouldn’t look like she only did the male partner’s work. Marisa would fuss that she was being discriminated against as a woman if her work wasn’t ready first thing in the morning. But how was Rose supposed to get everyone’s work done—both the princess and the partners, all ready, first thing in the morning? Rose had offered to do the work in the evening while they were in meetings, but the firm did not believe in overtime. No, just wave a magic wand, Rose, get it all done!
“Rose, dear, are you in?” It was Marisa’s voice calling from the bottom of the stairs. Then Rose heard Marisa’s feet tapping up the stairs. Marisa’s office was to the right of Rose’s. To the left, and down the hall, there were two doors leading to the male partners’ offices, old Mr. Arden and middle-aged John Delaney. Mr. Snyder had passed away. In the early days of this building, the big upstairs bedrooms each had fireplaces that now gave charm to the offices, even though flames were never allowed to burn. Rose turned and looked out the small window behind her. There were two big sycamore trees at the corner of the house with wide branches that reached up to the windows. Rose wished she could climb onto one of the branches and escape.
“You have my papers ready for signature?” Marisa asked.
“Yes, of course I do, sweetie, you know I always, take care of you,” Rose replied handing Marisa a stack of documents with yellow plastic flags jutting out from the edges marking the exact pages that the attorney needed to sign.
“Well, you have been doing a better job since that little talk we had with Mr. Arden,” Marisa responded, giving Rose a sweet little sarcastic smile.
“I try to do my best, but you know how the partners are and being men too, you know, they always think they should come first,” Rose explained, hoping that Marisa, as a woman, might sympathize.
“Did I tell you?” Marisa continued, “Oh, maybe not, we decided at the meeting last night and you weren’t here. We decided to hire a temp worker. I’ll put in the call today. We want to give you some extra help. We want all the files in those cabinets downstairs, you know, the ones in the garage? They have to be indexed and sorted and boxed. We’re sending them off to storage. I wish we could just chuck them into the fire, but by law, we’re required to keep them another five years.”
Marisa swept the hair back from her eyes. “The temp will handle that work. You can supervise. You see, we are thinking of you my dear, we’re getting you some help. Now, let me get the phone number and call. Oh, no, I’m meeting a new client downstairs today. Why don’t you call the agency and get the temp. That way you get to make some decisions.” Marisa went to her room and fetched the phone number. She handed it to Rose and Rose sat looking at the business card as Marisa headed back to her room.
Only one problem. Marisa had walked off without the stack of papers with the little yellow flags marking the need for her signature. Rose stood and picked up the papers. She carried them to Marisa’s desk. Rose wanted to slam the papers down and walk out. How could attorneys be so forgetful of things they insisted on having right away? Rose saw that Marisa was on the phone. She knew that Marisa hated to be disturbed while she was talking. Rose gently laid the papers on the corner of Marisa’s desk.
Returning to her own desk, Rose dialed the temp agency phone number. What nerve that woman has. We are thinking of you my dear, we’re getting you some help. What good would that do? Rose would have to stand over the temp worker and supervise to be sure the job was done right. Might as well do it yourself.
Suddenly Marisa’s head popped through the door. “Another thing. Did I tell you?”
Rose quickly hung up and looked at Marisa.
“We decided at the meeting last night to have the holiday party on December 15. Right here in the office. Mr. Arden is bringing the spirits so it should be a great party. Wine, beer, champagne, we’ve had a good year so we’re going to celebrate.” Marisa waived her hands in the air and danced. “Now remember, like last year, everyone brings a gift and we draw for the gifts. Then in the end, you know, whoever has a red card under their seat cushion gets to take the best of whatever gifts were brought. It should be a fun party!” Marisa skipped back to her office.
Rose smiled and reminisced past parties. It was nice to have a glass of wine and listen to old Mr. Arden reminisce the cases the firm had handled. He would describe the judge’s fury and the crazy things the opposing attorneys would say. It was such a good time. It made Rose feel like something she did sometimes benefited someone—other than her bosses.
Rose called the temp agency. The temp worker came that afternoon. Rose took her downstairs to look at the dusty old boxes in the garage.
“All these boxes?” the temp, whose name was Silvia, asked as she looked around. The garage, which was a modern cement block extension from the historic sandstone basement, was too full of boxes to be used as a garage. Rose wondered if the temp felt the chill in the air, the garage was unheated.
“Yes, this is all of it,” Rose answered. She watched Silvia for a reaction. Silvia was good. She rubbed her hands together and announced, “I should be able to get this job done in a month, working five days a week, eight hours a day. Will that do?”
“Sure,” Rose replied, “Now let me show you some of the good things about this job.”
They went back through the garage door into the basement of the building. “Here’s the kitchen. You can cook some lunch on the stove, and the refrigerator has lots of space for your food. Here’s the table that we all eat at, even the attorneys—whenever they find time for lunch, which is rare. You are allowed to read the books on the shelves during your lunch time—which is thirty minutes. Stop and take a break any time. Here is the coffee and tea. I’ll pop in on you from time to time to see how you are doing. I’m at the top of the second flight of stairs that you saw when you came in the front door. Here’s the office phone—just buzz here and I’ll answer your questions.”
Silvia nodded. “I’ll start tomorrow.”
“Great, I’ll tell the agency we’re accepting you.”
As the week passed, Silvia diligently dug through the old files, listed them on an indexing form attached to a clip board and called to Rose with any major issues. More often than not, Rose left her desk, tromped down two flights of stairs into the garage and looked over the unusual arrangement that caused a problem. It seemed that some of the attorneys just stuffed files in any box, even where they didn’t belong. This necessitated pulling them out, holding them aside and putting them back in the correct box for indexing and storage. Up and down Rose went. Honestly, she lost seven pounds. That would give her the opportunity to enjoy some holiday goodies.
Rose marveled that Marisa, the budding young woman attorney, found time in her schedule to plan the holiday party. Marisa loved to shop, so she bought the paper plates, coffee cups, wine glasses, utensils and pretty holiday table clothes with a poinsettia print. Marisa put up a tree and decorated it with heirloom bulbs from Mr. Arden. He helped her hang wreaths in the windows and put a big wreath on the front door. Rose was actually glad that this work was not being delegated to her.
As Rose and Silvia were about to leave one day, Marisa reminded them that everyone was invited to the party and that they should each bring a gift. Outside as they walked to the bus, Rose turned to Silvia, “Don’t feel obligated to come to the party or bring a gift. You’re the temp, you don’t have to do this. I don’t know why Marisa bothered you with it. The partners will understand. I don’t even know if they will be keeping you here to the end of the month.”
They arrived at the bus stop. Rose bit her lip. Her words suddenly sounded exclusive and cold. She had meant to take a burden off a fellow worker who only got temporary work and low pay. Silvia looked up and said confidently, “No problem, I’ll be there for the party and I’ll bring a gift.” They climbed on to the bus and sat apart.
On the day of the party, everyone came in and dropped off their gift under the tree then rushed around to finish off little tasks that couldn’t wait. A few friends of the firm, and some from the bar association came in to join the celebration. At lunch time, Mr. Arden called to everyone to join him in the large conference room. Rose came down, Silvia came up. Marisa came over from the Christmas tree. John Delaney came in and looked around.
“It’s been another successful year,” John said. “We would also like to commend Marisa Wellington on her work over the past year with our female clients in our discrimination and child custody cases. Marisa, it’s been a pleasure to work with you and congratulations on winning the Margoles case. It’s her first victory.” He looked around proudly.
Everyone cheered and applauded.
“Now let’s party,” Mr. Arden said. He sat at the head of the table. Marisa joined him to his right. John Delaney sat to his left. From the side room came two caterers who served the meal and poured the drinks.
“A toast to the firm,” said John. Everyone raised a glass of champagne.
“I’m glad I came today,” Silvia whispered to Rose. “I rarely get to taste something as fine as champagne.”
Soon the meal was served, devoured and cleared away. The servers brought forth the fancy desserts and coffee. Mr. Arden told several funny stories as forks sliced into crème and froth and chocolate foam.
“Now for the gifts,” Marisa announced. She went to the tree, examined each gift and handed them out randomly. “I hope I didn’t give anyone their own gift?”
“No, I think we’re all ok,” Rose responded.
“Who goes first to open a gift?”
“I will,” said Silvia.
Rose noted that the attorneys were happy with Silvia’s presence.
Silvia opened the gift and held it up. It was a nice set of coffee cups with several packages of different flavored coffees. Very nice, Rose thought.
“Thank you so much,” Silvia said and sat down with her gift.
Marisa opened her gift. It was a hand-knitted hat and scarf done in green and yellow yarns. Rose suspected it was hand-made by Silvia. She watched as Marisa smiled, looked around the room and acted gracious to receive it.
It was now Rose’s turn to open her gift. She pulled back the paper of the bulky package that Marisa had given her. Inside was a soft yellow and tan crocheted blanket. Rose gasped. It would make a nice gift for her new grand-baby. Rose ran her hand over the soft blanket and smiled. So pretty. It was perfect.
“Open your gift now, Earl,” John commanded of his legal partner.
Earl tore back the paper and opened a small box. It was a man’s wallet. “Very nice,” he said in a kindly voice. “I could really use this.”
John began tearing the paper back from his gift. He opened the box and laughed. “Well this is a gift worth giving,” he said.
Rose blushed. It was the gift she had wrapped. It was a woman’s purse. Rose had never used it. It was very nice looking, but she didn’t need it. So she wrapped it up and gave it as her gift, hoping that one of the women would get it. Now, she felt foolish. She had given her male boss a woman’s purse.
“No problem,” John said laughing, “Now I know what I’m getting my wife.”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m sorry,” Rose said, she hung her head in embarrassment. “I should have known that wouldn’t work.”
“Now for the best part of the game,” Marisa announced. “Look under the pillow on your seat. If you have a red card there, you can take any gift from someone else and give them yours.”
“What?” Mr. Arden asked, “When did this become part of the holiday?”
They all stood and lifted the pillows from their seats.
“No red card here,” John announced.
“No red card here,” Silvia announced.
“No red card here,” Rose announced.
“Oh look, I got the red card,” exclaimed Marisa. “I get to exchange my gift.”
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Arden said, “who put the cards under the pillows?”
“I had the catering staff do it,” Marisa explained.
The male attorneys looked at each other. Rose and Silvia looked at each other. Silvia looked down at the coffee cup set in her hands. “Oh well,” she sighed.
“Since I have the red card, I think I want…Rose, hand over that blanket. You get this silly hat and scarf. It doesn’t even match my coat. I want that blanket.”
Rose looked down at the soft little blanket. She could just see her little grand-baby wrapped up in it this winter. Why couldn’t that be? Why did she have to hand it over to Marisa who had so much more than Rose had. Why?
“Hand it over,” Marisa called, laughing playfully.
Rose turned her pleading eyes to the male attorneys. “I was hoping to give it to my grand-baby,” she said.
“Marisa, have some sympathy,” Mr. Arden said. But Marisa didn’t seem to hear him.
“I’ve worked hard and I deserve my just reward.” She stood up and walked toward Rose. Rose bowed her head and handed over the blanket. Marisa stuffed the hand-knitted scarf and hat into Rose’s hands.
Rose knew it was her turn to be gracious. “Silvia, I’ll bet you made this hat and scarf, it’s really lovely. I’ll wear it to work every day. It will keep me warm.”
Silvia smiled.
As far as Rose was concerned the damage was done. She would never like Marisa, no matter what. So what if she was a young woman attorney and you wanted to root for her and wish her well. A stone of hate had formed in Rose’s heart.
John Delaney picked up the woman’s purse and strutted around the room like a sexy fashion model. “Maybe men should carry purses,” he said. “I could keep my eye glasses in this thing and my wallet and my state lawyer’s association card with me at all times.”
“Well, that would be useful,” said Earl Arden, laughing. He turned to Marisa and glowered. “This firm has always prided itself on sensitivity to others. Keep that in mind, Marisa.”
By the next day, Rose had calmed down about Marisa. The job was important. You couldn’t lose a job over some petty battle over a blanket. There were blankets everywhere in the stores. Rose could just by another one.
“Rose, come here,” Marisa called. Rose got up from her desk and stepped into Marisa’s room.
“Now, here are the phone numbers to three clients. Call them and work out a good deposition date. Here are the papers I signed. They are ready for delivery.”
Rose put out her hand to take the papers. They were the same papers that had to be ready—first thing in the morning—days ago. She tucked the papers under her arm.
“Don’t you think it is cold in here?” Marisa asked.
Rose thought of Silvia in the cold garage. She shrugged, “I don’t know. I dress for it. I’ve got a vest and my suit jacket on. I feel ok. A hot cup of coffee helps. Mr. Arden just made a fresh pot.”
“You are right,” Marisa said. “Could you be a dear and go down to the kitchen and get me a cup?”
Rose held back a scream. As she turned to leave the room, she saw Marisa pull the small blanket off her lap and put it around her shoulders. “Thanks, Rose, you’re a doll.”
Rose stomped down the stairs. That blanket should have been wrapped around her new grand-baby. She knew Marisa liked milk in her coffee with three teaspoons of sugar. But this time she would get six teaspoons of sugar. Obviously, Marisa needed some sweetening.
