Installation 16: You Really Get Me previous
A few days after The Director’s birthday (cake and punch served in the staff lounge along with the presentation of the birthday card), Phoebe received a phone call.
“Phoebe, it’s James from the Director’s office.”
“Oh, hello,” Phoebe said, palms instantly sweaty.
“The Director would like to see you,” James said.
“What?”
“The Director would like to see you,” he repeated. “Now, if possible. You’re not terribly busy, are you?”
“I’m mailing out some media packets for Julia,” Phoebe said.
“So you can come right away,” James said and hung up the phone.
Phoebe rose from her desk but immediately sat down again. She was not mentally prepared to handle a meeting with The Director. For what purpose? To fire her? To ask her why she existed? She wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt as Carlotta came out of her office.
“What’s the matter?” Carlotta asked. “Your face is all pinched.”
“I have to go to meet with the Director,” Phoebe said. “Now.”
“What? Why would he want to meet with you? Does he even know who you are?”
“Apparently he does. Why else would he ask to meet with me?”
“There must be some mistake,” Carlotta said.
“James just called,” Phoebe said. “There’s no mistake.”
“Oh my God,” Carlotta said. “Your hair is all messy.”
Phoebe put a hand to her head. “Really?”
“You look tired and disheveled today,” Carlotta continued. “I wasn’t going to say anything but now I feel I have to.”
Phoebe reached for her purse and took out a lipstick, applying it with a trembling hand.
“How does this look?”
Carlotta shrugged. “Well,” she said. “You have to go. You can’t stand here like an idiot.”
Phoebe pushed through the impossibly heavy glass doors that protected The Director’s office suite from the rest of The Museum. James sat behind his enormous desk, tapping his pen against its glossy surface.
“What took you so long?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Phoebe said.
James picked up his phone and pushed a button. He murmured into the phone and then set the receiver down.
“The Director will see you now,” he said.
Phoebe made her way towards a heavy oak door that was not completely shut. Through the crack she could see a room done up in dark colors and heavy fabrics. She pushed at the door and it didn’t make a sound as it opened to reveal The Director sitting at a desk even larger than James’. He was motionless, hands propping his chin up, his eyes shut.
“Hello?” Phoebe said.
The Director’s eyes opened but he remained still.
“I’m Phoebe Persons. You wanted to see me?”
“Phoebe. Yes. I did,” he said. “Sit down.”
There were numerous choices for places to sit. There were many overstuffed chairs, a couch, a chaise done in a gold brocade, and an ancient-looking Chinese chair inlaid with ivory and gold.
“Where would you like me to sit?” Phoebe asked.
Surprisingly, The Director pointed to the Chinese chair.
“How about there?” he asked. “What’s the point of running a museum if you can’t sit in a 4,000-year-old chair that’s worth more than a new Mercedes?”
Phoebe lowered herself onto the chair and it creaked ominously. She jumped back up.
“No, no,” the Director said. “Sit down. If it breaks, we can get some wood glue.”
“OK,” Phoebe said, still unsure.
The Director got up from his desk, walked over to her and guided her down into the chair. Then he paced the room.
“I wanted to talk to you about your birthday greeting,” he said.
“Greeting?”
“The card… the birthday card,” The Director said. “Remember?”
“You mean what I wrote?”
Impatient with her, The Director went back to the desk, took the birthday card out of a drawer and began to read.
“Hello Director! Hope your birthday turns out to be all you hoped it would be! The day and the year. Often things don’t work out as we plan so don’t be disappointed if it all fails to live up to your expectations. Only time will tell. Phoebe.”
The Director stopped reading and stared at her.
“I’m really sorry,” Phoebe said. “I think I was suffering low blood sugar.”
“No,” The Director said. “This is the most heartfelt and accurate birthday greeting I’ve ever gotten from anyone who works at this place. I wanted to thank you. For seeing me as a human being. For recognizing that my life is not perfect just because of my job, my wealth and my advanced degrees. I get migraines. I’m lonely. I have strained relationships with my adult children."
“Oh,” Phoebe said, shifting in the chair and hearing the tiniest crack.
“And the tone,” The Director continued. “Was perfect. Yes, life is fleeting and transitory. We don’t know how things will work out. And they never work out the way we want them to.”
“But I didn’t mean to be disrespectful…”
“On the contrary, I feel as if you are the one person who really gets me. You didn’t look at this card and just sign ‘Happy Birthday’ or ‘Don’t eat too much cake today.’ You thought and you wrote from the heart. Has anyone ever told you that you're wonderfully uncomplicated?”
“Well… thank you,” Phoebe said.
The Director stood in the middle of the room and closed his eyes again. He swayed slightly back and forth.
“OK,” he finally said. “You can go now. I have at least half a million things to do.”
Phoebe stood up, glad to be out of the ancient chair.
The Director clasped her hand. “I won’t forget this. From now on, when I see you in the hallway, I’m going to say hello.”
The Director guided Phoebe out the door of his office and back into the waiting area - James’ domain. He looked up from doodling on museum stationary as she stumbled over the thick carpeting.
“All finished?” James asked.
“Yes,” Phoebe said. “I’m going back to my desk.”
“Wait,” James said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Phoebe turned and waited for him to continue.