There’s no one “in charge” at work yet. And somehow, despite the 9 years that I’ve been out of high school (I realize that’s not very much, but it seems, looking back, like a long time ago) I’ve been transported right back into a classroom with no teacher. Paper flying, voices screaming across the room, chaos ensued.

The 50 year old screaming to the 40 year old across the room. “WHO’S GOING TO BE THE LEADER? WHO WANTS TO BE IN CHARGE?” As if we can’t do our jobs without someone telling us to do our jobs. “Let’s have the features reporter handle the hard news!” And suddenly I’ve become the bookworm in the corner, nose in a book (on a computer screen) trying to concentrate on a Mary Oliver essay, trying to listen to her reading a poem. “EVERY ONE GETS TO GO HOME!”
I would have said that, too, if I was in charge, but thank god for A. For her walking in to the cheers of the working mans and womans. Thank god for the after silence, for the workers getting back to work, for the leaderless finally having a sense of their direction.

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