The gathering storm

How, precisely, does one say with a straight face at staff meeting “oh, by the way, did anybody happen to go over to the third floor last week? Like either Thursday or Friday? Just checking. For, you know, confidential reasons. No need to panic.”

Yeah, no need to panic.

I have already informed those that could plausibly be at risk.

And yet. And yet. There is that remaining nagging sense of bewilderment that anyone with any moral sense could say to themselves “hmmm, I know. Let’s pretend that not telling people that they’ve possibly been exposed to a pandemic disease is any way defensible. Or maybe let’s pretend that there’s some kind of risk — what exactly I’m not sure, but hey, we’re in pretendland, right? — that’s worse than people getting sick and possibly dying.”

Also, there is that remaining nagging sense of bafflement that anyone could think “hmmm, we’ve done some reassignments recently. Shouldn’t we make sure that people are getting informed of what’s happening?”

No. Because apparently that’s too difficult.

Published by A garrett renter on Welbeck St.

An online diarist, because writing longhand just seems so tiring.

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