Re: IMAGE OF THE WEEK (Dark Side Forum)

Re: IMAGE OF THE WEEK
Author: Marcus	June 26, 2009 at 11:14:38
in reply to: IMAGE OF THE WEEK* posted by Pete on June 24, 2009 at 06:29:35*

Follow Ups
	“Ass kisser.” Beth thought to herself as she smiled for Ronald’s camera. She didn’t want her picture taken, but knew that if she declined, the little twit would just pressure her. All she really wanted was to get to the other side of the room where she could get off her feet and smoke her cigarette in peace. If she had to attend the damn “Office mixers” Mr. Grinnald had started holding every month to “Build the team,” Beth was damn sure going to smoke and drink. If the jackass wanted to foster team spirit and company loyalty, he should have paid attention to how his grandmother had run the firm for the last 40 years of her life before succumbing to lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking. Her employees would have followed her off any cliff the old lady wanted. Blinking from the flash, Beth saw Melissa and waved. “Excuse me.” She took her leave from Ronald and crossed the room to where a small cluster of employees, all of them smokers, had gathered at a table near the bar. “How much longer do we have to endure this shit?” Melissa grinned at the question as Beth took a long drag on her cigarette and filled her 25 year old lungs with smoke. “As long as we’re not the first to leave, we can go any time we want after Grinnald has a chance to say hello and tell us how great he is. At least we can smoke this time. Last month was bullshit.” Beth exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. His grandmother must have been spinning in her grave.” One of the other women commented on another’s dress and the conversation moved on to other topics, and Beth took another long drag. At age 25, she was the firm’s youngest campaign manager, having started with the firm as soon as she graduated from college. Ms. Grinnald had liked her and took her under her wing from the day she started as she had quite a few of the women with the firm. Her death had been hard for all of them to accept, but they knew it had to have been a relief to her. The last few years of her life had been spent battling emphysema, even though she refused to quit smoking, and her wracking coughs and wheezes had rung in the halls. The cancer diagnosis hadn’t been a surprise, and she had refused treatment except for the pain. When she died, most of the smokers in the firm had tried to quit, but Beth hadn’t given it a thought. “If it kills me, it kills me. I’m dammed if I’m going to put myself through that kind of hell again. I tried to quit when I was 20, and that was enough for me.” Of all the smokers, only she and one other woman smoked the long 120 mm cigarettes that had lost popularity in recent years. When asked why, Beth would explain that she had switched to them in college because she had thought she would smoke fewer of them and could save money. She had also switched to a much stronger brand for the same reason. “It didn’t work, so now I’m fucking up my lungs even more.” Looking around, Beth thought the mixer was starting to break up a little and took a final drag before extinguishing her cigarette in the ashtray. “It looks like people are starting to leave.” Melissa nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I think Grinnald is trying to get over to us. Finish your drink and he’ll buy you another. Beth’s lungs were screaming for relief as she held the smoke in them and she exhaled. “Good idea.” She tossed off the remainder of her whisky and soda and pulled a fresh cigarette from her purse. “Well, ladies, I hope you’re having a good time. Can I buy you a round?” Dale Grinnald smiled in what he thought was a winning way at the four women. They accepted the offer, and after the waiter left the table he raised his glass. “Cheers!” Glasses clinked and Beth noticed that her drink was a little stronger than before. “I almost didn’t see you ladies over her behind all the smoke.” Beth tilted her head back and exhaled an almost imperceptible stream of smoke and waited to see where he was going to go with his comment. “I don’t see how you can stand to do that to yourself. Just think what your lungs must look like.” Beth inhaled a long drag, breathing from her diaphragm, inflating her lungs slowly and completely until every space was filled with smoke and every surface was coated with tar. She held the smoke for only a second before exhaling. “I take it you don’t like smoking?” Her voice was even and had a slight edge to it. “Of course not. It’s awful.” Beth paused as she brought her cigarette to her lips, “Then I guess it’s a good thing you don’t smoke.” Grinnald, chuckled and asked “doesn’t it bother you to know that you’re slowly killing yourself? Do you want to end up like my grandmother?” Later, as she sat and read at home before going to bed, Beth thought about Grinnald’s comment about his grandmother, and remembered the old woman fondly. She had been good to her and taught her a lot. She closed her book and lit another cigarette as she remembered her final job interview with the old woman. It had been well before she had to start using oxygen, but it was obvious that she was a lifelong heavy smoker. All the signs were there - the congested sounding cough, the gasp for air at the ends of long sentences, the wrinkles around her mouth. After she offered Beth the job and Beth accepted it, Ms. Grinnald had told her. “I’ll show you around the place in a few minutes. First, I need a cigarette. Let’s go outside.” When they had both lit-up, Beth said she had wondered what the company policy was on smoking. “Smoke when you want to, smoke when you need to, get your work done, and don’t let anyone give you any guff about it,” had been the old woman’s reply. “Don’t care about the color of your lungs any more than I care about the color of your skin.” Beth smiled at the memory and drew on her cigarette, thinking about her exchange with the old woman’s grandson earlier in the evening. She knew what her lungs looked like. They were rough, black, and misshapen. That was fine with her. She was a smoker.

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