Kind Gilbert: A Short Story

Kind Gilbert: A Short Story

Aug 17, 2022

KIND GILBERT © NADINE CRABTREE.

Gilbert Dryden is my colleague and good friend; an unremarkable soul and totally unversed in dealing with corporate corruption or imbued with the necessary belly fire to be 'someone'.
He was one of the planet's plodders. Not particularly bright but then again not in the least stupid. His common sense attitude toward life was undoubtedly the most predominant of his characteristics, followed in quick succession by an affable nature, an inability to be rattled and stoicism to the 'nth degree.

Gilbert and I had known each other since third grade junior school. At first we were acquaintances but as the years rolled away we became fast friends. The dichotomy between us was more noticeable as we entered into the sludge of worldly employment. My personal agenda was to get the upper hand at all costs - no matter upon whom one trampled. Achievement and power were to me the very basis upon which life revolved, whereas Gilbert required neither. The man was a regular Mr. Nice Guy, a Mr. 'I'll help you if I can'; always ready to loan his tools or equipment; never confrontationist if they were not returned, but patient and forgiving. He was the soul of discretion a good husband and father. This man was almost a saint. The term ALMOST is used advisedly.

We travelled together each morning - he negotiating the madness of rush hour - while my time was spent in catching up on the day's news. The fuel money we shared equally as we were employed by an International Oil Cartel, a couple of human cogs oiling its giant international wheels. We learned very early on that the Company would, without fear or favour, throw any employee who proved incapable of ratifying company policy onto the ever growing heap of unemployed middle aged personnel, therefore, we gave our all.

My particular forte was sales while Gilbert spent his hours locked into the formidable computer system, which through competitive international marketing was always in the throes of upgrade. This lack of continuity made not the slightest difference to Gilbert's health or temper. He slogged away working out new and improved methods of discourse between chips, chaps and chairman. Audible mutterings were endemic throughout the department in which he worked, but never the slightest whisper of complaint was heard from Gilbert's office.

That was the way it was; therefore complete acceptance. Tread softly through the nuances of re-structuring. Do your job to the best of your ability.
To my knowledge Gilbert never possessed a covetous nature - leastwise not until one Christmas prior to the merger. He chose to work at home in his own time and with his own laptop via modem on a software program that could wipe the floor with everything the market had to offer in the way of updated information packages.

If memory serves it was the week beginning December thirteenth, a fortnight before the plant and administration staff took their annual vacation leaving the company to limp along using a skeleton staff on a 'maintenance only' basis.

On this day Gilbert mentioned something to me on the way into the office. Conversation between us was normally kept to a minimum. Gilbert drove carefully while concentrating on manoeuvring through the hellish traffic; I communicated with him various tit bits of newsworthy items from the morning press.

With myopic hindsight, my disesteem of his conversations was that of dismissive tedium, which either my mind didn't register as noteworthy, or my selfish approach to life determined that anything he had to say would be banal and therefore prosaic. How wrong can one be?

We drove home. My mind shattered from a day spent with the Directors of the various departments and with whom, because of the imminent merger, were modelling bullet proof vests and mouthing pleasantries to each other while clicking collective heels at their superiors in readiness for the onslaught.

Gilbert’s opening gambit came thus: - "The new program works Brian." His sotto voce comment brought me back to the here and now. "Good." My reply was less than exhilarating and we drove steadily for another few hundred yards.

"It is able to update and integrate any new system automatically and it requires only one set of fixed parameters and presto - away she goes." "Great." My thoughts were still in the boardroom, churning over ways to keep in front of the new regime with better performance figures, larger sales which I hoped may entail selling sand to the Arabs - or in our case oil refineries?

"Tomorrow I'm going to trial it. With the new merger and the switch- over to their system it should save thousands of man hours of negative input not to mention huge savings for the taxpayer and the company."

"Yeah really? Well that’s great Gilbert." The car slowed to a halt in front of my house. Gilbert lived further north, two suburbs away in a less spectacular suburb than mine but he seemed happy enough out there. Anything more would not have suited his nature, in my opinion!

"See you tomorrow at seven thirty." The car door slammed and Gilbert drove off into the sunset.
The end of the week arrived. The office management held something of a ritual on Fridays because everyone wore a T.G.T.S. tie.

Gilbert picked me up dead on seven thirty. He was never late. It wasn't until we were crossing the Golden Gate Bridge that I suddenly noticed he had omitted to wear the bright red and black tie.
"It’s Friday Gil'!" Mock surprise and admonishment attended my exclamation.

"So?" He seemed pre-occupied with something.
"You didn't wear your 'Thank God Tomorrow's Saturday Tie?"
"It is ridiculous and childish." His answer delivered in measured tones. To be honest warning bells should have sounded loud and clear but they didn't and I shrugged it off by burying my head in the newspaper. Happily by Monday Gilbert appeared back to normal. On the way to the office he shared with me the fact that his immediate supervisor contacted him at home - unequivocally delighted with his program and this would immediately be implemented throughout the office system of the company.
In order to formulate this implementation a meeting was called for nine a.m. sharp at which Gilbert would outline the multifarious applications thereof. The company also decided to market the program to other cartels and more particularly a slightly modified version would be sold to the International Air Traffic Control System, the elite of whom were experiencing trouble with their conventional programming. The modified application would engender a more efficient service as Gil's supervisor knew only too well, and Gil' was given the 'nod' to trial the package.
In his quiet way Gilbert was bursting with pride. His demeanour lacked any outward sign of egotistical measure, but I could tell from his body language that it was in there but simmering coyly.
"Let me know how it goes?" My final remark before heading our separate ways in the five-acre car park. 
Gilbert affirmed he would.
 At eleven ten my telephone rang. Gilbert announced he was offered the task of programming the international Air Traffic Control system, the mainframe was situated in Los Angeles and his Chief advised Gilbert that it be instigated immediately, this due to the fact that the eternal grapevine, through impeccable sources of course, foretold that a foreign company was in the throes of devising a similar program. This particular company were known for their aggressive marketing and undercutting on price, therefore time was of the essence.

Gilbert was to leave immediately for Los Angeles where the program would be installed with a minimum of fuss.
My congratulations were loud and long and I offered to drive him to the airport, an offer he readily accepted. After communicating the news at length with his wife we set off, he keeping his cool while I chattered like a cage of monkeys, putting into words the realisation that he would no doubt head up his own department upon his return and the sky was the limit for him from now on?

Gilbert demurred that perhaps my gun jumping was slightly misplaced, but my thrust for his advancement could visualise no bounds.
We reached the busy terminal. Gilbert waited for me to park the car then we sat in the first class lounge sipping a well-earned beer until his flight was ready for boarding.

Gilbert kept glancing anxiously at the screens. Ten minutes before the flight was due to board an announcement came over the PA system that due to a 'wild cat walk out' by cabin crew all international flights were either cancelled or delayed. Passengers should check with their airline for further details.

Gil was livid. We both realised in that split second announcement that if the aircraft on which he was booked was just one or even two hours overdue, the foreign company would pounce into the void and usurp Gilbert's victory and that by extension, of the Cartel. His eyes were like saucers.

Without a word to me he sprang to his feet, bodily elbowed his way through the queue and demanded to know the reason for the strike. The young attendant - well versed in the art of apology - explained that because of the inability of the airline to upgrade crew on a sliding scale of seniority, they were all out until they received the airline’s confirmation granting the necessary pay rise.

Gil grunted and returned to the table. He sat thinking for a few moments then asked one of the waiters for a telephone; this was delivered immediately.
I could not help but notice Gilbert's eyes were aflame with emotion. He placed his laptop on the table, attached the telephone and dialled after which he proceeded to key in a set of instructions. He turned and offered me an enigmatic smile before relaxing in the chair and waited. Suddenly, in the already chaotic terminal, all hell broke lose. The entire airport was thrown into a maelstrom of perdition. Public address announcements followed one another thick and fast. The first announcement was a confirmation that all staff of every International carrier would receive an immediate thirty per cent increase in salary with an extra five days paid leave. Next the disembodied voice boomed loudly that passengers would be reimbursed their full fare if they were held up for longer than fifteen minutes after the advertised flight departure time. Further it was mooted that no surcharge would be made for overweight baggage and each passenger travelling in the next twenty-four hours would be issued with two duty items - the charge for such goods to be appropriated by the Airport Corporation.

At this last announcement hundreds of frenzied passengers were hurling themselves into the Duty Free shops demanding their free allowance while others were stampeding to receive full reimbursement for flight delays. Baggage was being flung at the check in desks and fights broke out among passengers. The duty staff took refuge by travelling down the conveyor belts to certain safety.

Gilbert smiled. He tapped in a few more digits and cocked his head waiting for the announcement.
"Passengers travelling on flight FS Thirteen our direct daily flight to Los Angeles please board your flight at gate thirteen immediately and we apologise for any inconvenience caused."

Gil stood up and shook me by the hand. "Well that's me." His face was placid as he closed the lid on his laptop and returned the borrowed telephone to the table.
"What was all that about?" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The hullabaloo surrounding us prevented normal conversation.

Gil strode toward the departure gate, then stopped and turned to me. "This world is crazy don’t you think? People have lost the art of negotiation. Machines are allowed, ad hoc, to run their lives. What else is there if man can be out-manoeuvred by a chip of silicon? Are they lost in the mire of self-centred power broking or will they wake up to themselves and become human beings again? People are too greedy." His normally placid face broke into a furrowed frown. "Did I ask for recompense for designing and delivering this program? Of course not for it was my gift to the world - if it can be utilised for the betterment of mankind, then why not give freely without always wanting something in return?" Gil shook his head at me in utter bemusement at the folly of our fellow man. As he surveyed the chaos his little laptop chip had wrought I saw Gilbert laugh and I wondered at Gil’s unassuming attitude. It made me think deeply. He was absolutely right. We were a greedy bunch. Half the world starved while the other half were overweight and complained about not earning more than their perceived due - which in most instances was far more than they actually required.

When it came right down to it who was worth what? Luck played an intrinsic part in the fortunes of man but at the end of the day, we all ended up the same way. Out the door feet first. What was mankind actually striving for?

I shook Gil’s hand warmly while wishing him bon voyage.
He waved his hand and was gone.
I never saw Gilbert again. He didn't reach his destination. He certainly boarded the flight as latterly attested to by the airline but somewhere between London and Los Angeles Gil disappeared!
Who or what was this man who understood the frailty and greed of mankind? Never a sun sets when I don’t wonder about him. Strangely his wife and son disappeared too and no amount of investigation turned up one morsel of evidence. It was as if all three never existed!

END

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