But we couldn't just march him over to the window and give him a shove. That was tantamount to murder, and maybe Roma Inc. is not the most reputable wholesaler in Washington, but damn it, we're not entirely unlawful. Of course, Kid pointed-out, ultimately, that even talking about this was probably illegal, but Kid's partner Jules suggested that lawful or not, it was moral, because Kid belonged to us. "You and me, Kid, we built the Davison account-- you know what that meant to this division. And we take care of our own."

So it looked like it was time for another office party. We asked Kid if he had any ideas, since leaving this to admins was out of the question. Kid sort of blushed and said he'd always liked that gangster rap. "East Sigh Eed!" he managed. I thought that was in very poor taste, and I said as much in an e-mail to Jules. He made the point that perhaps it was sort of appropriate, giving Kid some credit for "dying with his boots on." I conceded the point.

Of course none of my admins had that kind of music in their CD collections (not if they want to stay at Roma Inc. for more than a fiscal), and I doubt even Rutledge from Logistics could manage anything newer than 1967. But, you know, this was Kid we were talking about, and petty cash should be able to handle a few CDs for an old friend. We could donate them after and get a tiny write-off. Done deal.

But our floor? Nothing doing, as I pointed out to the team we assembled in a pre-meeting to set up the order of events for the party planning meeting. Undershot moved we discuss location at the top of the agenda, since location parameters would probably dictate other factors, such as where the beverage distribution would occur, and from which direction Kid would get the final push. Florence from Finance wanted a break-out session to determine the proper accountancy, since Kid might change his mind at the last second: "If he jumps himself, that's a column C, W-9 worksheet, voluntary termination. Don't get me started on the tax issues if we have to file him for unemployment!" But I had anticipated this, and didn't let her cobweb the meeting. "Send me an Outlook for three tomorrow, Florence, we'll talk out Kid's variables then." She seemed satisfied with this, and we let Undershot have location at the top.

Which motivated a nice bit of foreshadowing at the planning meeting itself, as Kid's admin coughed a few times and suggested we have the party on the roof. "It's away from the other offices-- no one goes up there. You've got the view of the Aurora bridge, which is sort of appropriate-- remember back at the end fiscal '05, when the bridge got four jumpers and the VPs brought in the psychologist?" Everyone nodded, remembering that nightmare, since a visiting consultant meant no one could go to their own physician and write-off a week's worth of Diazepam to the HSA.

Kelly made a dirty face though, since she thought it was a secret that she brought her black lab, Tommy, in every day and left him on the roof with some water. Well, she could just leave him home for a change. Or maybe she could take a sick day-- three quarters without PTO and you start to wonder if she's a damn spy for Nile Works. Kelly's admin tried to help out. "Up there? This is Seattle, gentleman. What if it rains?" We all had a good laugh at that, and put Kelly in her place by ignoring her admin. Yes this is Seattle, and it's also June. It never rains in Seattle in June.

At the post-meeting wrap-up, everyone was eating donuts and I decided to let Robert's Rules slip a bit, just in case there was a creative spark we could leverage, to keep our edge and make this a real send-off. Jules brought up the already-tabled parting gift tick from the agenda, again, and Undershot's admin slipped "How about the Platinum Collector's Edition of Boyz in the Hood?" Chewing stopped for a few seconds and Undershot probably flipped his mental rolodex for HR and a new admin req. But that did get us to talking.

About how Kid was sort of wild and this really was sort of inevitable. The time he shipped those "When Animals Attack" DVDs to the Foley Retirement Community in Papisquet, FLA. We all laughed at that one. And when they sent back the shipment, he sort of ran around the floor with the Fed-Ex box in his hands (we require DHL for returns) shouting "Procurement Reject and Back-Charge for Reship! Procurement Reject and Back-Charge for Reship!" We all laughed really hard at that. There was talk about spinning him into his own sub-div for Retirement Home accounts.

But sending Boyz in the Hood to the NYC Spelling Bee, that was out of order. He knew what he was doing too, was proud of it, bragged about it while guzzling punch at the office Christmas party, between puking jags and make-out sessions with assistant admins who thought an office party meant a mini-skirt show. He bragged about how all the K-4 Spelling Bee participants got a thank you packet courtesy of Governor Spitzer's "No Child Left Behind" grant. A pencil, a pad of paper, a pocket dictionary, a copy of Akeelah and the Bee on DVD and a voucher for discounts on Apple Computers. "Straight outta the box and into the packets, that'll teach 'em to hire illiterate illegals in their warehouses!"

It wasn't even like they'd catch the mistake, read the fine print on restocking fees for broken shipment seals, and then demand the right titles at a post-purchase mark-up. No, they'd just get sued. Bad for business. And when you've got puke stains on your Roma Inc. tie and a drunk assistant admin passed out on your arm, bragging about seven-year-olds watching that scene where the kids find the dead body, that's just going to stick in people's heads.

And then the quarterly comes, the office has to do a mini-re-org, and your looking at either a golden parachute, letters of recommendation, an NDA, and then shadowing from corporate legal to make sure Nile Works doesn't grab a spike in marketshare, or, if you're Kid, you're looking at a view from 150 feet that gets a lot more detailed at 32 feet per second squared.

So even though we'd tabled the parting gift tick, Jules was suggesting maybe a nice tie, and not another Roma Inc. leftover from some Christmas, but something classy, like a Hugo Boss or maybe a Chrysler. That got me to thinking, and right there for everyone to see I expensed a cream and blue-striped Martini Harvard class of 2001 using my Treo. "Cancel the nine o'clock, tomorrow" I told everyone. "I'll handle the invitations myself."

Of course, I got a dozen voice mails on that. What if someone forwards the e-mail invite? What if some new hire in Receivable locks up his Outlook and Tech Support shoves the e-mail into the whole building's in-box? I sent out a quick forwarding-tree voice message to the entire floor. "We're theming the invites to the tie. Anyone else sees it, they'll think it's just Distribution announcing product EOL."

The e-mail was nice and Kid himself thanked me for it. "Re: Kids Tie Dropping as of 6/15/06. Required meeting, East Coast Sales." I felt good about that.

At the party everything went more smoothly than we could have hoped. We had our last meeting of the day, with Rutledge's Power Point operating at human speed for a change. We all gathered on the roof, and once we got used to the Iced Cubes or whatever Kid had on the iPod rigged to a set of Bose, things where real nice. D.B and P.J. grumbled a lot, and intimated that I'd better not take all the credit for this. But everyone else seem to like it.

More than one person came up to me and thought we ought to have more office parties up here, (which of course put Kelly in an even worse mood). The usually cold, stiff conversations around plastic cups of Costco wine were not to be seen, with folks seeming to enjoy themselves, talking about their kids, their spouses, the mothers up in Bellingham and visits to Vancouver in the fall. Their minds were about a millions miles away from Sigma Six and cost-to-market ratios. It was nice to see. Did we have Kid to thank for it?

But I knew this was a one-time thing. I'm all for thinking outside the box, but Roma Inc wasn't built in a day, and we weren't about to risk our shareholders' penny on the liability of frequent visits to an un-guardrailed rooftop. Besides, it wasn't just about this Kid, but about future Kids, and I was hopeful there would be none, after today.

Finally, I flipped off the iPod, and told everyone "It’s time for the drop." I have to say, the grateful look on Kid's face, and the way he marched right to the edge, it made me kind of proud. I thought for a second he was going to go right off, with no ceremony. But he got to the edge, and turned around to face us. He seemed calm. Almost cocky.

"This ain't a joke, is it, Rutledge?"

Rutledge just looked at him.

"Undershot? Florence?"

They didn't say anything, but they didn't bow their heads either.

Jules was standing next to me. "Go ahead, S.B. Send him over."

Kid looked at me. "You too, Steve?"

I just shrugged, and held up my hands. My Roma tie sort of caught the breeze and fluttered as I looked back at him, at Kid.

It was such a sublime moment, he was already falling before we even realized it. Out of respect we waited a few seconds before looking over the edge. There he was, on the pavement; there was a lot of blood, but not garishly so. Appropriate blood. And his tie draped over his face.

***

Drawn from "Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby" by Donald Barthelme, and from the story drawn from Barthelme entitled "Something for Sucio," by P.J. Rondinone.