HELP! A Bear Is Eating Me! - Mykle Hansen [4]
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I wasn’t always being eaten by a bear. 24 hours ago I was stretched out on the self-inflating couch of Camp Image Team with a cold Bud in my hand, smelling the outdoor smells of our dainty forest clearing — some pleasant, others repulsive — and supervising the erection of a large six-man tent by the six small, erectionless men of my department. By supervising I mean offering them encouragement and gentle criticism as they wrestled incompetently with a complex umbrella-like nylon pod full of sticks and stakes and strings. That was me doing what I’m best at: delegating. I’m not the kind of manager who gets in his subordinates’ way when they’re busy, unless they’re doing something wrong — and yeah, they usually are — but the thing is, the management wisdom is, you have to let them make those mistakes, and then gently rub their noses in it, for them to learn. And it’s easier to delegate like that with a cold Bud in your hand.
And I would know all about that, because I’m sipping one right now! That’s right! One cold, foamy cylinder of civilization’s finest beer. I waited for my opening, I concentrated my will, made a superhuman effort and with one heroic lunge I grasped the cardboard box from Wally’s Super Supply, dragged it over here and ripped it open to find: a hero’s snacktime! There’s Slim Jims, Bud, Bud Light (Edna’s), Cliff Bars, Diet Pepsi (also Edna’s), and I’ve barely scratched the surface. Man, there’s something perfect about a Slim Jim and a cold Bud … even when it’s cold outside, and you’re cold, and something warm would be really nice. But a cold Bud has such powerful iconic cachet; it’s telling every cell in my body that things are going to be just fine. It’s telling my body The King Is Here, and This One’s For Me. Now is the moment in my life when I must draw on my culture for strength.
I guess I’ve bled some. I haven’t passed out or anything, at least not since the jack slipped and the car fell. All in all, I’m surviving. I’ve got my fluids, my meds, my snacks and my positive mental outlook. My prognosis is excellent. I could use some bug repellent, but whatever. A local crew of ants seems to want to lay claim to my hair, but whatever.
Image Team is going to find me. Or rather, Image Team is going to find some competent Search & Rescue professionals, who will then find me. Image Team couldn’t find their own asses with a digital ass detector and a trail of breadcrumbs. But they ought to know how to delegate by now, isn’t that what I’ve been trying to teach them? They’ve got Baumer’s Toyota and their phones and a big-ass radio and it’s only thirty miles of unpaved road to a paved road, and from there to a ranger station should be quick enough. They had better go get rangers. They had damn well better not wander out here looking for me on their own.
Of course, since this is supposed to be Team Building Weekend, they’ll probably do exactly that, search for me on their own. Shit. I can totally see it: Frank Baumer will act all tough and give one of his gay motivational speeches from that book in the men’s bathroom, like he always does when he’s late on a project and has no ideas — which is usually — and then Halsey, always driven to kiss the largest ass he can smell, will suggest the group elect Baumer as an temporary leader, a sort of ersatz Me until the official Me can be found! And Wollencott and Frink, the Seattle Yes-Men’s Chorus, will think that idea’s a peach, an idea with legs, one they can get behind. And once they’re done humping the legs of Halsey’s gay peach, Baumer will give another fucking speech about big shoes to fill, footsteps of giants, not worthy, but okay, call me Boss if it makes you feel better. (Note to self: fire Baumer.) And then they’ll unpack the little Motorola two-way radios I bought them, totally useless beyond one mile, and they’ll fan out in all directions, calling my name and making noise and generally screaming HEY BEARS, COME AND EAT US. And then the bears will come and eat them. It’ll serve them right for trying to be a team without me. Those guys are