Madge decides she’s going to have her own “Women in the Workplace” day, and the way she’s going to celebrate it is by picking up a six-pack and some snacks, and hanging out on the bench outside. No way would she join the other women upstairs, with their sweaters and heels and eye makeup; she’s always felt more comfortable with guys, and this job was no exception. Sure, she had to remember to always carry tampons in her purse, because there wasn’t a machine in the warehouse bathroom and she’s not going to ask Darryl to add one. But other than that, the job was usually okay, and she isn’t going to complain about how the morning has gone if it means she gets an extra-long break.

She had also picked up a Dog Fancy magazine, because she’s thinking of getting a puppy. Her cousin, CeeCee, breeds beagles; she could probably work out a trade if she helped her tile her living room or something. She’d name the puppy Spike, after Snoopy’s brother. She had just finished reading about how some places allowed workers to bring in their dogs – would Darryl be okay with that? Probably not – when Roy comes around the corner. He’s heading to his truck when Madge calls to him.

“Roy! Hey, Roy!”

Roy stops for a minute, and she sees him change gears.

He sits down and takes the beer she offers him, and at first he does nothing but play with the bottle cap and stare at his shoes. But after he opens it and is halfway through the bottle he tells her everything, everything about that day – the Michael crap she hadn’t seen; Jan’s smackdown of the union idea; and an argument he had had with Pam.

“See, Jan told Pam all about this art thing, this internship in New York. Look, I know Pam likes to do that drawing stuff, but what if she gets a job like that? We’d have to move to New York, away from my family, and I’d have to get a new job, and man, do you know how much an apartment costs there?”

Roy stops, and Madge hands him another beer.

“So I tell Pam I don’t think it’s a good idea, and she gets all upset, and I don’t mean to get mad, but it’s like she’s telling me her life isn’t good enough, like I’m not good enough. So I start asking her how she could plan the wedding if she’s away all the time, and she gets quiet, and I remind her about the wedding, you know, the one she wanted?”

“Bitch,” says Madge.

He cuts her a look, hard and fast.

“You know – Jan.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What a bitch.” He stares across the parking lot, and makes a face like he’s counting his teeth with his tongue.

Madge pulls a pack of pink Snowballs from her bag. “Do you want one of these?”

“Sure. Thanks. I love these.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”