"Weekly tree planting parties. That's the key to our company's success. We will put our shovel where our mouth is."
The CEO was giving the speech. Heart felt and full of emotion.
The weekly tree planting parties began last March. I stood no chance of getting out of them. Ick. It started out by everyone giving the new little sapling a hug -- gently of course. It was horrible. Then while gently caressing a branch or leaf, you told it softly your fondest desire for it to grow big and strong and undo a little of humanity's destruction of the environment. Then everyone held hands surrounding the tree in a great circle as it was placed in the ground.
I really need a new job, I was thinking while I watched the ornamental maple plop in the ground. The human resources assistant with the artificially black hair and the bar piercing her lower lip let out a sob of joy and was comforted by a equally pierced and tattooed delivery driver.
"We'll save the world from those awful humans one tree at a time," I heard her angry muffled oath between sobs.
Freakish.
I looked around at the rest of the crowd, holding hands and gently swaying back and forth. I saw tears on some faces, but none dared risk their job with open disgust. I hoped I was hiding it. I couldn't afford to be labeled anything but a team player. My skill set was becoming obsolete. After the finish of the ceremonial tree planting party, I returned to my desk and acted as invigorated and excited as I was supposed to.