Free Circles of Confusion by April Henry Page A

graphs, holograms, scatter diagrams, crisscrossing lines and bell curves. He experimented with 3-D, legends, labels, dual axes and drop shadows. It was Roland's dream to get a color printer so that he wouldn't have to spend hours in his office coloring. At the beginning of each fiscal year, he routinely requested a color printer, claiming he would "utilize it to facilitate improved work process flow." Just as routinely, Ed had denied the request. Now, if Frank's rumor were true, Roland might be able to fulfill his dream.
    No matter what chart type Roland used, Claire's bar or pie slice was always slightly larger than her co-workers. Over the years, she had developed the ability to steadily review applications while daydreaming. And with the exception of today, she had never taken extra time for lunch or over coffee. She had even accumulated 689 hours in her vacation time bank, just under the state-mandated limit of 700 hours.
    Claire never knew what she was supposed to say when confronted by Roland's endless sheaf of paper. She flipped through the pages, and after what seemed a long enough silence, she pushed the papers back to him and mumbled, "Thank you."
    "You're always pushing the envelope," Roland said. "Do you know how much I appreciate that, Claire? I can always count on you. I wish I could get the others to model your paradigm." Roland spoke incomprehensibly in a vain effort to make other people think he was smart. He invariably had the latest management tome prominently displayed on his desk, and tried out as many of the concepts as Ed permitted. So far, the department had suffered through self-directed work flow, quality circles, self-esteem banks, team-building retreats and re-engineering.
    The business end of their meeting presumably at an end, Roland leaned back in his chair, relaxed and expansive. "Did you have a good weekend?" He took one of his collection of elephants—a plastic one about seven inches tall—and began to walk it up and down his desk.
    In her mind, Claire saw the woman's painted gaze, felt the ridged brushstrokes under her fingertips. She kept her answer short, hoping that Roland would let her go. "Uh-huh."
    "I went to that Rod Stewart concert I told you about. Should have gone with me! You really missed a great show." Roland had offered her a ticket weeks ago under the guise of altruism—he had an extra ticket, it was a sold-out show, perhaps she would like to go.
    He had seemed almost angry when she declined. "That guy knows how to rock." For emphasis, he tipped the elephant on its hind legs and made it dance while humming the first few lines of "If You Want My Body." Claire repressed a shudder at the thought of sitting by Roland's side, watching the bobbing bleached crest of the skinny, aging singer as he pelvic-thrust his way through twenty-year-old hits.
    She began to push back her chair. Roland had danced the elephant halfway down the desk, until it was now directly behind another elephant—a squat unpainted wood carving. The positioning brought the two elephants' hindquarters into a suggestive proximity. Roland offered her a sideways leer.
    "What does this make you think of?"
    "It makes me think I'm not going to stay in this meeting," Claire said, surprising both of them. She stood up and reached for the door.
    "Wait! Wait! I'm sorry." The dancing elephant dropped onto the desk with a thud.
    Claire felt like a teakettle about to boil. "For the last two years I have overlooked your behavior toward me, but that is beyond the limit! Do you realize that what you just did qualifies as sexual harassment? I hear the state has a new head of HR who made her reputation by exposing stuff like that."
    "Shh! Shh! Quiet down! You don't know what you're saying! Heck, I didn't know what I was saying!" He was flushed to the tips of his big ears, and Claire guessed he was seeing his promotion slipping away. The sight of him cowering instead of leering sent a thrill of power through her.
    "You knew