Disclosure_ A Novel - Michael Crichton [121]
“So you saw nothing wrong?”
“Not a damn thing,” Jackson said. “She could get a little bossy. That got old. There were a couple of other women I was seeing, but I always had to be on call for her. Even at the last minute. That could be irritating sometimes. You begin to think your life is not your own. And she’s got a mean temper sometimes. But what the hell. You do what you have to do. Now I’m assistant manager here at thirty. I’m doing great. Great company. Great town. Great future. And I owe it to her. She’s great.”
Sanders said, “You were an employee of the company at the time that you were having your relationship, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Isn’t she required by company policy to report any relationship with an employee? Did she report her relationship with you?”
“Christ, no,” Jackson said. He leaned across his desk. “Let’s get one thing straight, just between you and me. I think Meredith is great. If you have a problem with her, it’s your problem. I don’t know what it could be. You used to live with her, for Christ’s sake. So there can’t be any surprises. Meredith likes to fuck guys. She likes to tell them to do this, do that. She likes to order them around. That’s who she is. And I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
Sanders said, “I don’t supposed you’d—”
“Make a statement?” Jackson said. “Get serious. Listen, there’s a lot of bullshit around now. I hear things like, ‘You can’t go out with the people you work with.’ Christ, if I couldn’t go out with the people I worked with, I’d still be a virgin. That’s all anybody can go out with—the people you work with. That’s the only people you get to know. And sometimes those people are your superiors. Big deal. Women screw men and get ahead. Men screw women and get ahead. Everybody’s going to screw everybody else anyway, if they can. Because they want to. I mean, women are just as hot as men. They want it just like we do. That’s real life. But you get some people who are pissed off, so they file a complaint, and say, ‘Oh no, you can’t do that to me.’ I’m telling you, it’s all bullshit. Like these sensitivity training seminars we all have to go to. Everybody sits there with their hands in their laps like a fucking Red Guard meeting, learning the correct way to address your fellow workers. But afterward everybody goes out and fucks around, the same as they always did. The assistants go, ‘Oh, Mr. Jackson, have you been to the gym? You look so strong.’ Batting their eyelashes. So what am I supposed to do? You can’t make rules about this. People get hungry, they eat. Doesn’t matter how many meetings they attend. This is all a gigantic jerk off. And anybody who buys into it is an asshole.”
“I guess you answered my question,” Sanders said. He got up to leave. Obviously, Jackson wasn’t going to help him.
“Look,” Jackson said. “I’m sorry you’ve got a problem here. But everyone’s too damned sensitive these days. I see people now, kids right out of college, and they really think they should never experience an unpleasant moment. Nobody should ever say anything they don’t like, or tell a joke they don’t like. But the thing is, nobody can make the world be the way they want it to be all the time. Things always happen that embarrass you or piss you off. That’s life. I hear women telling jokes about men every day. Offensive jokes. Dirty jokes. I don’t get bent out of shape. Life is great. Who has time for this crap? Not me.”
Sanders came out of the Aldus Building at five o’clock. Tired and discouraged, he trudged back toward the Hazzard Building. The streets were wet, but the rain had stopped, and the afternoon sunlight was trying to break through the clouds.
He was back in his office ten minutes later. Cindy was not at her desk, and Fernandez was gone. He felt deserted and alone and hopeless. He sat down and dialed the final number on