Disengaged

“We are most definitely not seasonal workers. Christmas is the worst of course but it goes on all year,” moaned one of the crowd.

“Exactly,” joined in another. “It’s about time we united to try to get some results.”

“Okay, settle down,” their leader Chad said. “We can all agree we have been mistreated for too long. Commitment used to mean something in America. A promise was a promise. Where I come from you don’t renege on a deal and cast someone aside the minute something better comes along.”

“I don’t get it,” Brad said. “It almost seems like the public is rooting against us. Somehow the new guy who takes our job is always the likable underdog.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled around the room.

“Tell us your story,” Chad said.

Brad hesitated. He’d never been much of a joiner, but when he’d seen the tweet about this meeting, he’d been hooked. And now, the sympathetic eyes watching him told him he wasn’t alone.

“Well,” he began, “I lost my betrothed right around Christmas, of course.”

“Of course,” several muttered, sharing knowing glances. Tad, sitting next to him, patted him on the shoulder.

Buoyed, Brad continued, “Amelia got sent on business to Tucson for a year-end evaluation. She ended up falling for some ‘Schuyler the studly cowhand’ at the local dude ranch after her Appaloosa threw her.”

“Just not right,” someone across the conference room said. “I mean, look at us: Shouldn’t we be more than some constellation of sad sacks? We’ve got generally good jobs. Work a bit too much, maybe. I know I’m no Adonis but none of us are in bad shape. Wouldn’t you think we’d be considered decent catches?”

“I vote work stoppage,” a guy named Lad said. “We’ve the right.”

“Is that really the only way?” asked Tad. “Seems like there’s a legion of cool guys who’d replace us tomorrow. Maybe all we need is more of a support group.”

“That’s here and now, man,” Chad said. “Then we’ll go from there.”

“Right.” Tad took a deep breath and leaned forward in his chair. “My bride-to-be left me for Cisco, her high school sweetheart.”

Brad shuddered. It was hard to compete with memories of a teenage fling.

Tad went on, “She’d reconnected with him when she returned home to settle her granny’s estate. Turns out the old girl had decayed for a week or two before anyone discovered her, and Cisco was the local fumigator who came to tent the old farmhouse. My girl agreed to go with him to the town’s annual Yule festival for old times’ sake.” Tad sighed and leaned back. “And the rest is history.”

“I don’t know how much good just talking about it does,” said Lad, crossing his arms. “I tried couples therapy with my ex after she met a guy during a subway blackout that happened during the holiday shopping rush. She couldn’t stop talking about him.”

“What happened?” asked Tad.

Lad grimaced. “Coincidentally, that same guy turned out to be our couples therapist. They got married the next month.”

The air in the room seemed to deflate. No one said anything for a minute.

Then one of the men in the back, Vlad, stirred. “Alright, let’s focus on something practical,” he said. “Can we get the ring back?”

“That depends,” Chad said.

“My fiancée’s an army medic. She broke it off with me after she banged her head at a Christmas USO show. Says she went back in time as a Korean War nurse, fell in love with a wounded G.I. hunk, and brought him back to the present through a wormhole opened in a magic foot locker. I still say he’s just the doctor.”

The men all looked at each other, shrugged, and looked at Chad, whose eyebrows had risen several inches.

“Well,” Chad said, “The good news is, often yes. Sometimes the new guy is revealed to be the son of the rich but grouchy business owner who’s so loaded, she’s happy to throw you a bone by returning your sad bauble.”

“My sad—!” Vlad started to rise from his seat, but Chad held up a quick hand.

“Her perspective, that’s all!” he said. “And in other cases, a gal might be going off the grid to live with a surfer or safari guide or whatever. She won’t care about material things in that case, so she’ll send back the sparkler.”

Vlad settled back in his chair, shaking his head with a pained expression.

Lad sighed. “Nothing to do but keep working, huh?” 

The rest nodded. Brad glanced back up at Chad.

“So,” Chad said, “I guess the idea of a walkout is tabled for the time being. We’ll keep meeting monthly for now. Any final take-aways before we adjourn?”

Various voices piped up around the room, sharing their hard-earned advice.

“Keep your guard up when Advent starts. Those Christmas markets are minefields.”

“Return trips to her childhood home are trouble.”

“Business trips could spell disaster. Run — don’t walk — to stop any trip to some family-owned airfield or marina. Or heaven forbid, a lighthouse.”

“Beware trips to castles, too. And be on high alert for any business with landed or titled gentry. Especially counts.”

“And Scotland is out of the question.”

“Anything else for the good of the order?” asked Chad as the voices died down. “Hearing nothing, I hereby adjourn the first ever meeting of The Brotherhood of Basic Cable Rom-Com Fiancées.”

As the men rose to go, an attractive blonde poked her head in the door. 

“Excuse me,” she said. “I lost my boyfriend to some vixen on a reality dating show.”

“That’s down the hall,” answered the crowd as one, pointing. 

“Good luck!” Brad added.

The blonde grinned, waved, and headed off down the hall.

It goes both ways, Brad realized as he collected his things. Maybe we just need to spend more time in negotiations.

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