As Becky drove back to work, she thought about telling the Captain that she had a collision with his 300M. If she knew that he was going to be pulled over by the Quebec police at 3 a.m., then the right decision would have been obvious.
As Becky pulled onto the television station property, she decided not to back into MacMillan’s spot. She always did, since backing a car up is difficult. But if no one is around, then it always seemed easier to go from the street to a small spot. Her aunt Arley always thought that Becky parked like a fireman. "You just jump in a car, and you’re off!"
If Becky were the last to drive the company car, the Captain would have an easier exit at the end of the day. So far, he was the only one who noticed that if his car was backed in, Becky had been the last to drive it. However, to give herself an option, she drove straight right into the parking spot. The front of the car was tucked into the property’s hedge, hiding the bumper that no longer held the CAPT WON licence plate. If the Captain wasn’t able to see that he was missing a plate, it gave her another choice.
Flash was at the lobby’s switchboard. “No problem ma’am. I’ve got the weather for Cornwall, Ontario right here.” Anne called almost every afternoon and Flash had the web site for the weather office bookmarked. He still was able to hand Becky some mail for the News Department. As she took the slow ride to the second floor, Becky sorted through the envelopes. Since one was for Sports, she entered the Newsroom through the door closest to that department. At the other end of the long room, past the two dozen cubicles for the staff, sat Joan. Calling this indispensable woman a secretary was wrong on at least two levels. Not only was Joannie was much more than that; she might slug you if she heard you.
"How’s the driving?"
"Smashing." Best not to answer questions in full sentence form. One-word answers could be misinterpreted and Becky didn’t want to be too accurate when answering. She couldn’t tell a lie, but telling the truth did seem difficult at times.
Joan looked at Becky and knew something was up. It was always difficult to know if Becky meant something else because she usually had something funny to say. Becky looked hard at the Italian ‘capo’ of the newsroom and sighed. She glanced at the washroom door and they both headed for the lounge. Unlike the men’s, there was an extra room on the way into the toilets. Lounge was way too nice a term for this large closet with two doors, a huge mirror and an old couch. Only the Students Of the Week ever sat on it since, everyone but the S.O.W.s knew that the forty year old sofa had never been cleaned.
"I had a small collision with the Captain’s car".
"How bad?"
"There’s one small piece that fell off." Becky pulled the licence plate out of her purse.
"You’ve got to tell him," whispered Joan, as the door opened.
"Tell him what?" asked the Doctor. Besides writing, producing and reading the late, local news, she was also a professor.
"My A.I.D.S. has all cleared up," smiled Becky.
Becky probably would have told her boss about the damage to the car, if the e-mail from the President of the company hadn’t arrived. The New Guy figured MacMillan had left for the studio so he sent a message about Becky’s latest telephone controversy.
About an hour earlier, Becky had answered the phone. Flash sent one viewer from the switchboard to the newsroom and the caller wasn’t happy. She felt that CAPT TV had aired a story that favoured somebody in Quebec. Becky hadn’t seen the story but if the TV station had said nice things about some group, they deserved the recognition. It wasn’t because of the language they spoke.
"I’m from Topoff," said the caller.
Becky had been in most of the 250 communities in the broadcast area; some of them more than once. However, she hadn’t heard of Topoff.
"Where’s that?"
"Topoff", exclaimed the caller. "You know us."
"Not really. What large town are you near?"
"T.O.P.O.F.F., The Organisation of People Opposed to French Forever!"
"Ah, the bigots." The Kingston Ontario group did hate the French, but the word just slipped out of Becky’s mouth. In some cases, the truth can be really easy to say.
"What’s your name," demanded the stunned woman. Stunned being an accurate description. "Carol…" Carol something as Becky faked a cough and buried the rest of the name in a mumble. "Gotta go. Thanks for calling."
Becky hung up, answered five more phone calls and completely forgot about the racist. The woman phoned back however and got through to the New Guy. He hadn’t seen the story either but he did apologize to the bigot because one of his staff had called her that. He sent an e-mail to MacMillan who knew immediately which of his staff had dealt with the viewer.
"Did you call somebody a bigot?" said the Captain.
"Well, there was more to it than that".
"It doesn’t sound like it. Andre Bushnell just apologized to her."
Becky’s watch alarm rang. "Three minutes", she shouted. That meant anyone involved with the show had 180 seconds to get into place. "We can talk about this later."
"You can’t insult people who call us."
"Really, Captain. There was a lot more to the conversation but we shouldn’t have this talk now."
The newsroom had become quiet as everyone now strained to hear the argument.
"I’m heading out after the show, so I won’t have time", shouted MacMillan.
"You don’t have time NOW", shouted Becky back.
"I want to know everything that was said".
"Then you should take my advice and record all the conversations. Besides, now you have two minutes to get downstairs".
Very reluctantly, the Captain left. He marched out of the newsroom, leaving everyone looking at Becky.
"That probably would have been a bad time to tell him I smashed up his car."
Assignment editor, John Paul, was the closest to her and he just stared. ‘Yeah, right’ was his look.
Slowly, still standing by MacMillan’s chair, Becky pulled a licence plate out of her purse. It could have been any car’s plate, but J.P. could clearly read it. CAPT WON.
Originally Posted : 110304
