A Fistful of Dollars

Today seven of us attended the first day of orientation at Raytheon Polar Services, Centennial, Colorado, fifteen miles outside of Denver, a barren high-plains landscape clustered densely with townhomes and office parks, none of the buildings older than a decade. The van service dropped another hotel guest at her destination before taking us to Raytheon. We pulled up in front of a tall, reflective glass cube with desks and paper rolls discernible through the windows. We drove around the building, fully, and nowhere was there indication as to what went on inside. The woman we’d deposited had certainly been inconspicuous, of average height, dark-haired, bright lipstick, a suit, black pumps. Unassuming. Perhaps that was the point.

Orientation presented little of note. We received a wad of travel funds, we visited IT and established internal accounts.

There was an HR video on harassment. It’s Not Just About Sex Anymore: the film’s title, the film’s message. Dramatic reenactments of workplace harassment were split with a serious and pithy businessman strolling the halls of his building. He wore a tan suit, his hair combed neatly, always carried a black leather satchel in his hand. His scenes were short, perhaps five or ten seconds - checking binders, filling coffee, opening doors, turning corners - and in every scene he quipped smartly about what we, the audience, had just witnessed: “You think to yourself, ‘That can’t possibly be harassment’? Well think again.” Or, “A joke or two, only having fun. Well this time you crossed the line.” And, always, this man would walk in view from somewhere off-camera, then exit (with gusto and attitude) off the other side of the camera.

This and that, the day passed, I dined with the three other employees staying at the hotel. Two of them swapped naval stories from the 1980s. It was only as dinner wound down that I noticed one of the men has the hands of an eight year-old choir boy, so small, so smooth, as though sculpted of marble.

And retirement comes late in the night, a stiff anxiety over tomorrow’s flight to New Zealand.