Focus Group Six

	 “Your job from now on out,” said the supervisor, Marc, “is to make this company popular. Famous. All you have to do is meet here every day and think up ideas for advertising. The pay is quite generous, I assure you.”
	The group of seven men and women from various demographics stared at him in disbelief. All they had to do was sit around and come up with ideas? And they would receive a large pay for it?  What luck!
	“You’ll get lots of raises in this job; all you have to do is stay focused,” said Marc, “The last group spent their entire meeting-times talking about unrelated things, and the company fired them. I’ll be staying here to make sure you actually work, though; the last group didn’t have that advantage.”
	Marc omitted the usual tour-of-the-building that was standard for new employees, and instead he cut straight to the chase. He forced them to draw new company logos, and if they talked amongst themselves, he hit a ruler against the table. “Focus!” he ordered, “we’re not paying you to sit around and socialize!”
	Many members of the group had throwbacks to days in school, for some only a year behind them.
	When a team-member named Jeff complimented Marc on his leadership skills later that day, Marc reprimanded him. “You should focus your positive attention on the work, Jeff,” he said, “we’re making a commercial storyboard now, and it needs everything you’ve got.”
	
	Marc left the team the day after.  In his absence, the company appointed Jeff to be its leader.  On his first day at the job, he utterly failed at controlling the team like Marc had.
	In the middle of the afternoon meeting, he tried to compel the team to work.  “I’m sure Marc wouldn’t have wanted us to sit around like this, doing nothing.  Don’t you think so?”
	“Marc was pretty good at making us work,” said Marta, the oldest and somehow most vigorous person in the team, “I wonder when he’ll be back? Where is he, anyway?”
	“He had a commanding presence,” said a balding man who used to teach leadership classes at a local high school.
	“Well, I guess we should get working. What time is it?” asked Jeff.
	“I think it’s about time to go. No time to get anything done.”
	“Marc made us work until the last moment, remember? Shouldn’t we do that?”
	“I guess, but I don’t think I have the energy…”
	For nearly two months, meetings went on much like this.  The team scraped together precious little actual work, but the company seemed oblivious.  Somehow ignoring how much money they had lost on the team with no return, they went so far as to give the team a raise. 
	“I wonder what Marc would think of our getting a raise without doing anything,” Jeff pondered out loud to the group.  Most of the people obviously were bored to the point of insanity by the daily meetings, but they coveted the ridiculous amounts of money they could earn by staying in the team.
	“He’d make us work harder. He was great at doing that. I wish he hadn’t left,” said Marta, always first to reply.  Jeff didn’t take offense at Marta’s calling Marc a better leader than he; he knew it was true.
	“I looked up Marc in the phone book,” said the balding man, “Marc Mark Palazzo.  493-8165.   I called the number and I got an answering machine. If I call again tonight, what message do you think I should leave?”
	“Well, if Marc were leaving a message to an old friend, what would he say?” asked Jeff.
	“Just tell him we’re all doing fine and we got a raise,” said Marta.
	“Well, alright. let’s get to work. Marc would want us to, right?” reluctantly said Jeff.
	“How about a new company logo?  Um…a Greek god, maybe?” offered a mythology major fresh out of college. He had been waiting for months to spring that, his master idea, and he was sure it would make him famous.
	“A Greek god? Sounds good. Right. Send that idea up to the company,” said Jeff, “How about you tell Marc’s answering machine something about that idea, Mortimer? I think he’d like to know what we’re doing. Right?”
	Every night after that, the balding man Mortimer left a message about the day’s happenings on Marc’s answering machine.  
	Two months later, Marta amazed the team with the picture of Marc that she had framed and brought.  “I found his picture in the company archives, and I sent it to the Kinko’s to have it copied and blown up at three in the morning, because they’re open twenty-four hours. Isn’t it nice?” she said.
	Not to be outdone, the other members of the team also brought in some sort of Marc memorabilia.  Mortimer brought in his phone book, tabbed to the Pak through Pam page, with Marc Mark Palazzo highlighted so vigorously that the page nearly tore.  The mythology major brought a hand-written copy of The Odyssey with Odysseus’s name replaced in each instance with “Marc.” Jeff started coming to meetings dressed up as Marc was on the one day he was with the team.  
	“What do you think Marc would think of all this?” asked Jeff one day.
	“He’d be proud of us, I’m sure. He’d be flattered,” said Marta.
	Soon the white room had been painted gray and red, the color of Marc’s suit and tie.  The walls were adorned with the same picture of Marc in varying sizes in expensive frames.  From the ceiling-fan hung numerous paper dolls with Marc’s face attached, each assembled with care by a woman who always chewed green bubble gum.  And through all this the team received steady raises from the company’s big-wigs.
	One day, while Jeff was approaching the door to the meeting, he was confronted by a greasy, thin man with round glasses and a limp.
	“Hello, Jeff!” the man said, “It’s nice to meet you! The people in charge want to know how your team’s going, if you need anything, and are you happy with the company? So they sent me, nice to meet you, I’m J. Salisbury.”
	Jeff was taken aback. He tried to ignore this demon as he turned the doorknob, but J. Salisbury grabbed his hand.
	“Just a minute, Jeff!” said he, “I only want to help you! Is anything wrong? Do you want anything? It’s my duty to serve! Are you happy with the company? With your pay? Are you working as a team? I’m J. Salisbury, nice to meet you! Do you need anything?”
	“Go away,” said Jeff.
	“How about I just go in the room with you, to meet your team? To see if they need anything, if they are happy with the company, are they working as a team, is it going well, do they need anything, nice to meet you all, I’m J. Salisbury.”
	Jeff moved to block J. Salisbury’s hand from the doorknob. They would all be fired if he saw what was inside. Also, Jeff was beginning to doubt J. Salisbury’s sanity, and he wanted to spend as little time as possible around him.
	“Come on, Jeff! What’s wrong? Do you not like your room? Do you need anything? Are you happy with the company? Nice to meet you!”
	“Well,” said Jeff, thinking how he would satisfy the troublesome creature, “Er, do you remember our old team-leader Marc? Marc Palazzo, he was nice. Why don’t you get him back, J. Salisbury?”
	“Yes. Uh-huh. Okay.” said J. Salisbury, nodding furiously, “Now can I come in?”
	“You know,” Jeff stalled, “Marc was really great.”
	J. Salisbury moved to shrug, but changed his mind and nodded with a tremendous smile. “Yes, I’m sure he was. Does your team need anything? Are you happy with the company? Jeff? Jeff, you’re doing marvelous work. Jeff, are you doing well? Jeff?”
	Jeff opened the door, slipped inside, and slammed it. There was a click as it locked.
	“Well,” said J. Salisbury, “You don’t need anything, then.” He fished for the master key in the pocket inside his jacket, and triumphantly opened the door.
	“Nice to meet you all! I’m J. Salisbury, and I want to know if you need anything, and are you satisfied with the company, and your pay, and your leadership? Are you working as a team, and are you getting things done? Do you want anything from the company? Just tell me! I’ll get it done, because I’m J. Salisbury!” he proclaimed, pouncing into the room. Upon looking around, he smiled at the employees’ hard work.
	“Yes, nice to meet you, Marta! I’m J. Salisbury! Did you make these lovely pictures? Yes? Wonderful! I’ll get this Marc person back, just you see. Really, I will. Yes. Yes. Uh-huh. Yes. Nice to meet you, Mortimer! I’m J. Salisbury. You’ve got lots of enthusiasm! Do you need anything? Are you happy with the company and is your pay enough? Are you working as a team? Do you all get along? How is your synergy? Are you happy with the company? Do you need anything? Good! Nice to meet you, I’m J. Salisbury!”
	After that day, no one ever heard of J. Salisbury again, but the woman with the green bubble gum claimed to have seen him at Home Depot once.
	Two months later, Jeff found Mortimer in the room jumping with glee.  “I got a call back from Marc!” he exclaimed, “and he says he’s coming back tomorrow!”
	Marc returned to his team to find a huge party prepared for him. Over the door to the meeting-room, a huge banner read “Welcome Back Marc!” and the door was wall-papered with a mosaic picture of him.
	Jeff met him before he entered the room. “Hello, Marc! It’s been ages! I’m…I’m glad to see you!” he trembled from excitement at seeing his idol for the past months.
	“Nice to see you again, too…how’s the team been?  Someone left me a bunch of messages about how each day went, but they were…disturbing.”
	“Oh, it’s all true, sir. Everything Mortimer told you is true. We’ve been working very hard.”
	“Really. Working hard on the advertisements?”
	“Well…not exactly…”
	“Gerhard, look, you need to work on the advertisements…”
	“I’m Jeff. Not Gerhard. Jeff. Don’t you remember me?” Jeff was crushed. He didn’t open the door to the meeting-room for Marc as he had planned to, he didn’t even say goodbye. He just walked away, through the door, and collapsed beside its frame.
	Marc was taken aback by the meeting-room.  “What’s all this? Haven’t you been working on your job?”
	Marta proudly showed Marc the pictures, and he replied, “You should work on pictures for the company. Honestly, you haven’t been fired yet?” Marta slowed down as she walked toward the door to leave, limping, for the first time showing her age.
	Mortimer presented his worn-down highlighted phone book to Marc, bowing his head.  “You’ve been spending all your time at home doing this,” said Marc, “when you could have been working on your actual job? Disgraceful!” Mortimer followed Marta out the door and nodded goodbye to Jeff, who was sitting outside the door with his face in his hands.
	The mythology major showed Marc his collection of legends edited to feature him. “This would have worked pretty well as an advertisement for the company,” said Marc, “but you’ve wasted the potential! Why? What could possess you to do this? Was I really that great?”
	“Yes, you were,” said the mythology major. Then he left.
	Marc climbed atop the table in the center of the room and brushed the hanging paper dolls off his shoulders. 
	“You’ve wasted all this time! You should have been working, working for the company that pays you so much. What made you think I would like this? Who corrupted you like this? You were a good team! I’m disgusted by all of you.” He angrily swatted at the paper dolls, which kept swinging back to hit his face. He could vaguely make out, through the swarms of his image, that now everyone had left the room, funneling through the door.
	Marc tore down the paper dolls and threw them in fistfuls to the floor. Then he left as well, heading for his superiors’ offices, and ignoring Jeff, whose ruddy face now glistened with tears.