Leaping from a prompt, falling down, down a rabbit hole, while writing to see what happens… at Free Fall Fridays.
prompt- Thinking box
“You are thinking,” he said ponderously “inside the box.”
We were in the boardroom and BJ Edison, the CEO, was addressing all his senior and middle executives. I traced a box with my finger on the mahogany table and let others do the talking.
“Just a minute there,” said Pepper, the VP of finance, “Aren’t we doing things like involving the community with our social media? The competition is still in a silo.”
“And so are we,” said Edison, in a gloomy voice “in a box shaped silo.
“And say, “said Gambini, VP of marketing and sales, “aren’t we doing things like giving our product free to the Navy? When they figure out a way to use our hoverboards on a destroyer, it makes for free publicity. I like it. Don’t you, Jones?”
That was to me. Everyone knew about my passion for sailing—a rather incongruous passion when I had suggested bumper stickers that said, “I’d rather be hoverboarding.” “Oh yes,” I nodded with some enthusiasm “sailors all over America are sitting up and taking notice.”
“Your problem,” said Edison looking around at each of us, “all of you, is that you don’t know you are in a box.” Lots of furrowed brows. Edison continued, “You can’t get out of the box unless you first know where the box is.”
“Oh,” I piped up, “like a fish that can’t see water.”
“Our sailing master has the right of it. You can’t even see the box. Didn’t Crackerjacks (TM) give free merchandise to the navy? Doesn’t that animal rights group go onto the electronic poster boards? If all we are doing is conventional marketing, we are sunk.”
Gambini grinned, “I sure liked that sponsoring the high school hoverboard competition.”
We started to laugh, but then Edison had to say, “Indeed. That is true.” And we all became silent again. “And what, pray tell, is our box? Pepper?”
Pepper said, “Well, we are in the business of selling an entertaining piece of leisure equipment for fun and health.”
“Indeed. I see you’ve read our brochures. Jones?
I said, “Um, we are providing people with an alternative to skate boards.”
Edison pounced. “An alternative! What happens to our company when the next alternative arrives…?”
Silence.
“And what happens to entertainment when the economy goes south?… Gentlemen, I can remember when every railroader thought he was in the business of running a railroad. Right up until the planes and automobiles put him in a marginal business… He should have said he was in the transportation business… Now, forget the brochures, what business could we be in? We need to brainstorm if we are to find a niche we can lock in, that has no alternatives.”
I looked at the polished mahogany, gleaming like a silver sea that I would love to sail away on.
“Jones! I startled. “Don’t escape the task! I want the first ideas to come from you.”
The old man might be ponderous, but he didn’t miss much.
…
…
Prompt-it’s not certain, but it might be Saturday
God, I love New London: the skree-ing gulls, the rain clouds off the Atlantic, the irrepressible young sailors from the submarine base… And I love the old sidewalks, with their mixes of colours from different aggregates in the concrete, the patches on grey patches, the little lines that intrigue the children who won’t step on a crack. Did you know the cracks are fake? The sidewalk is poured all in one long piece, the lines are drawn in by hand, and then someone gets to press in the trademark or the date.
And on the sidewalk are all sorts of marvellous fakes: The old busker who claims to have been part of the warm up band for the Beatles, the fortune teller who claims to have Gypsy blood, and the alleged communist who used to be an anarchist after he got tired of fascism. And that strange guy in the funny robes that go over the head. Where do you buy robes like that? Not from around here.
And not from around the blue ridge mountains, although that was the man’s accent. He kept clutching his robes in one hand, as if he missed being able to clutch a suspender. He asked, “Have you heard…” He whispered, “Have you heard the word of God?
“Oh yes, God whispers to me all the time,” I said cheerfully.
He looked at me, from an eye among his long hair. “Have I met you before?”
“Oh yes, in this life, we’ve met; I’m a third day Adventist.”
“Have you heard the word of God?”
I assured him, “Oh yes, we third day Adventists hear all the words.”
The man clutched, “The world is going to end! If not this Saturday, then the next!”
…
…
Sean Crawford
Landing with a thump, as peers comment on the concept of the railroaders not knowing their business,
Where mornings mean no awakenings by gulls,
no smell of earthworms and humidity
April 2021
Footnote: Pictures, that can each be clicked on for more slides, for 2021 Things to Do in New London, from Trip advisor.
