Woman Who Fell From the Sky - Jennifer Steil [87]
On Christmas Eve, I decide to leave work early because it’s a holiday for me and I have an out-of-town guest. I edit manically to finish by eight P.M. I’ve already told al-Asaadi that I won’t be coming in on Christmas, which falls on a closing day. For once, I am going to play the Christian card and claim a religious holiday of my own.
But when al-Asaadi shows up in the office close to eight P.M. on Christmas Eve, he tells me that he has decided to finish the paper that night, a day early.
“Why?” I am bewildered. “There’s no reason.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas!” says al-Asaadi.
I stare at him. “Mohammed. This is a Muslim country. There is no reason not to work on Christmas.”
“We’re all going to take a day off in solidarity with you.”
“Why?” I ask again. “Do you feel like you won’t be able to close tomorrow without me?”
He insists and says he will keep Manel with him in the office until the issue is done. This is incredibly unfair to Manel and the rest of my staff, but there is nothing I can do. I can’t stay in the office myself when someone has traveled all this way to be with me. Just as I am about to pack up to go, al-Asaadi hands me several stories to edit.
“Al-Asaadi. It is Christmas Eve, and I would like to be able to go home and spend some time with my guest,” I say.
“But I need you to edit these before you go.”
“Why don’t you just save them for tomorrow and have Manel do them?”
“We’re closing the issue tonight!”
“Look, I never ask for time off. Just this once, I want to go home and spend time with someone who is in this country for only ten days and whom I will not see for months.”
Al-Asaadi then informs me that not only has he decided to close this issue a day early, but he has decided that we should put out one more issue before Eid al-Adha, which falls just after Christmas this year. We have already decided, together, that we would not publish another issue before the holiday. Now everyone will have to work on Tuesday and Wednesday in order to put out that extra issue, when they have counted on having a holiday. What’s even worse is that the reason we have to publish this extra issue is that Qasim has already sold advertising for it. Qasim had done the same thing during Eid al-Fitr, and I had made him promise me that he would never again sell advertising for an issue that would have to be put out over a holiday.
Fuming, I quickly edit the stories al-Asaadi has given me and am walking out the door when he says, “So, I’ll see you here Tuesday!”
I whirl around. “Mohammed, I told you a month ago that I was taking time off this week. We also decided ages ago that this week was a holiday for all of us. So I am not coming in at all, except to collect my salary. It is nine P.M. on Christmas Eve, and this is the first that I have heard of this schedule change. If you want to do another issue before Eid, have fun. But I am not going to be here.”
And with that, I leave. I cannot believe that al-Asaadi would behave so abominably on what—as far as he knows—is a holy day for me. He has done the barest minimum of work since I got to this country, and now he has the nerve to suggest that I am a slacker for taking time off? I fume all the way home and, despite a pleasant dinner, the Christmas spirit fails to materialize.
I throw a party on Boxing Day for those of my friends who didn’t head westward for the holidays. Deputy