The big red button
A short story
It’s Monday again, I walk into my cubicle and sit down at my desk. The weekend felt too short, and 8am feels too early. It is first when I turn to power up my computer that I notice that there is something new on my desk: A small black box with a big red button. It’s the kind of button you press when there is an emergency. The box does not look like it is connected to anything. I look around my cubicle for a note or something that will tell me who it is from, but I find nothing. I carefully lift it up and look at it. I turn it around in my hands but there is nothing written on it. There are no instructions, and nothing on what will happen if I press it. If I press it? Why wouldn’t I press it? For some reason the button makes me uncomfortable. I decide to wait and ask during lunch for who put it there. The computer is waiting for me to log in. The first thing I usually do every morning: Log in, check my to do-list and then start working on the first task at hand. Five minutes to ten my phone beeps and reminds me that there is a staff meeting. I get a notepad and walk towards the meeting room. I know that no one will be on time for the meeting so I pass by the coffee machine on my way there. With a cup of coffee in my hand and five minutes late I walk into the meeting room. Five minutes late is perfect, no one will be angry with me and I will not seem too eager to be here. Only half of the department has arrived and most look bored. People are either talking amongst themselves or are checking their phones. I sit down and check my phone for any messages. There are none. I put the phone down and turn to John sitting next to me.
“Hi, John.”
“Hi.”
I struggle to find a topic to talk about, and I finally remember the button. “I found something really strange on my desk this morning.”
Having caught his curiosity he puts his phone down. “What was it?”
“It’s just a big red button. I have no idea who it is from or what it does.”
“You haven’t pressed it yet?” He sounds surprised.
“Nope, I first want to know who gave it to me.”
“I would have pressed it directly.” John says triumphantly.
“I’ll press it when I get back to my office.” I say defensively. John roles his eyes and goes back to playing with his phone.
A few minutes later our manager Lisa walks into the meeting room and people start to quiet down. The meeting takes two hours but it feels much longer. The meeting starts with Lisa presenting a lot of information we apparently need to hear. She had as usual already sent all the information to us before the meeting, and I had skimmed it as usual. I once asked why she presented the information during the meeting when she also sends it out beforehand. Her response was: “Because people don’t read the information sent out before the meeting.” She said it in a tone of voice that indicated that I had asked a really stupid question, so I didn’t bother telling her that there was an obvious reason why people did not read the information beforehand. The meeting finally ended, after a long discussion where fifteen people were quiet and three people repeated the same arguments over and over again. I walk back to my office, get my coat and then leave for lunch with the same two people I usually go to lunch with — John and Jim. John was laughing and joking about how boring and pointless the meeting was. We all laugh along.
“Did you press the button yet?”
“No I didn’t have time.” I feel I’m getting defensive again.
“Didn’t have time.” John replies in a mocking voice. “It would have taken you one second.”
“What button?” Jim asks.
Before I can reply, John does it for me. “He found a button on his desk this morning and he has not dared to press it.”
Trying to move the conversation away from me. “If you are so tough, why won’t you press it?” Something in my voice stops him for a second, but his laughter quickly comes back and he replies.
“No I want you to press it. It is your button…”
The conversation moves away from the button and I still don’t know who put the button on my desk. When I get back from lunch the button is still on the middle of my desk. I sit down in front of it. There is something that keeps me from pressing it, but I have no idea why. I will most certainly not die if I press it, but it represents some sort of unknown for me. As long as I don’t push the button it will still be a mystery. When it is pressed, for better or for worse, I will know what it does. Am I this desperate for some mystery in my life? I turn away from the button and continue working on the report. The clock ticks slowly towards the end of the day, and my mind keeps turning back to the button. Maybe if I press it I will be transported to a magic kingdom. The thought makes me smile. The clock ticks on. I work a bit more. Maybe it is a test? If I keep from pressing it management will see that I am very patient and I will get promoted… Or it might be the other way around. I get some more work done, and at the end of the day I turn off my computer and give the button one last look before I head home.
The next day, I walk into the office at 8am, as I always do, and walk into my cubicle. The button is still here. Maybe it is a bomb? I pointedly ignore it and work the rest of the day without pause fearing the teasing John will give me for not having pressed the button. I feel very tempted to press it at the end of the day, but I want to keep all the dreams of riches and magic kingdoms alive, so I stay my hand. When the day ends, I choose a route through the office to avoid John’s cubicle.
Wednesday morning at 8am I walk into my cubicle. The button is where I left it. I sigh and try to ignore it and focus on my work. Around 10am, Sarah walks into my cubicle.
“Hi, what is that?”
“It’s a button.” I reply a bit surly.
She ignores the tone of my voice. “What does it do?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t pressed it yet.”
“Why?” She sounds extremely surprised.
“I’m not sure, it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do just yet.”
“Can I press it?” She asks eagerly.
I think about it for a second and it doesn’t feel wrong to let her push it. “Of course you can.” I am actually really curious what will happen. She reaches her hand for the button, but my eagerness must have come across too strongly, because she stops herself just short of reaching it, and pulls her hand back.
Her laughter sounds a bit strained. “You are messing with me. What does it do? It gives me a shock or something right?” She looks around the cubicle to find something it is connected to. I laugh at her to get focus away from why I don’t push it. I put a small smile on my face and say. “I dare you to push it.” I hope that will do it. If only she pushes it.
She looks at me while considering the childish challenge. “I’m not falling for that one.” With those words she turn around and walk out of the office. She must have told the whole department about the button, because they all come by during the day to look at it. No one dares to push it though. I didn’t get much done today. I walk home stressed about all the work I need to do tomorrow to catch up. I don’t get much sleep and my dreams are filled with red buttons.
The day after my stress level reaches a new high, and I push the button away from my mind. It is still right there in the middle of the desk, but my mind has slowly gotten used to seeing it. I am less aware of it. People who come in to my cubicle see it and ask about it, and it is only then that I really it is there. I quickly forget about it again. The day seems to end almost before it started.
We have a big deadline soon and I work longer and longer days. My desk get as messy as my mind and at some point the button gets hidden under piles of paper. Weeks go by, filled with meetings, deadlines, and reports. Months go by, my desk is filled with even more paper and I feel more and more tired. The work feels more pointless than ever and I keep thinking that I have forgotten something. A year has passed since something that I can’t quite remember happened; looking in the mirror this morning I realize how much weight I have put on.
When I arrive at work I decide to take the stairs to get some exercise. The five floors leave me winded. This is not good. I walk into my cubicle and sit down amongst the piles of paper and a to do-list that feels endless and gets longer every day. I check my calendar and I realize that today is my yearly performance review. I had completely forgotten about it and I don’t feel prepared at all. What have I accomplished this year? I must have been doing something because I work extremely long hours every day, and I rarely get any complaints from my manager or my co-workers. I must be doing something right. Why don’t I feel satisfied with what I have done?
After lunch I walk into Lisa’s office and sit down. She starts talking directly and she sounds very excited.
“You have done extremely well this year and we are so happy with your work. The management team has had a long discussion and we have decided that for all your hard work this year you will get a huge bonus. Congratulations!” The last word is emphasized with some claps.
I know that I should be happy with what she says but I only feel empty inside. My silence seems to make Lisa uncomfortable.
“Have I done something wrong? Are you not happy with the bonus?” She sounds nervous.
I look at her and with a small smile on my lips I say: “I quit.”
The words leave my mouth and with them the tension in my shoulders. I sit up straighter and it feels easier to breathe. Stunned she looks back at me.
“I really don’t want the department to lose you.” She stops talking when she sees the smile on my face. After a moment she continues. “Have you decided to quit or is there something we can change here that will make you stay?”
I let her question roll around in my mind. I feel as surprised as she probably is. The thought of quitting was not on my mind when I walked into her office, but I realize that this is what I want. This feels so right.
“I have made up my mind. I need to do something else.”
“What are you going to do after you have quit your job here?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea actually. I just feel I need to do something else.”
A lot more things were said and decided during the meeting, but my mind was not fully present. What will I do next? What have I done? Walking out of her office, the only two things I remember was that I have two more weeks here and she would send me an email with what she wants done before I leave; my final to do-list.
I walk back to my office feeling sad and relieved at the same time. My colleagues look up from their desks as I walk by. They understand that something has happened but no one knows what. They all looked worried. I cynically wonder if their worry is for me or if they worry that the same might happen to them.
I walk into my cubicle and sit down at my desk. My head in my hands, I softly weep and feel the sorrow and frustration diminish with every tear. After a while I notice someone beside me, it is Sarah. Behind her I can see John, Jim and some other co-workers. They all want to hear what I say but they don’t all want to cram into my cubicle.
“What has happened?”
“I quit.”
“What?” I can hear the word echo from John’s lips from outside the cubicle.
“Why?” She asks after a stunned silence.
“I don’t know. It just felt like it was time to move on.”
When I don’t say anything else, she gives my shoulder a pat and leaves my office. During the next two weeks I hand off my work to my co-workers and finish the things on my to do-list. The list now has an end and it is such a relief. Every thing I check off actually reduces the amount of things I am supposed to do. It feels like I’m making progress for the first time in a year.
It is my last day at work and I finally get to the task of cleaning my desk. I put the few things that are mine into my backpack and I start to go through the piles and piles of paper covering my desk. Most of the papers that at some point felt too important to throw away now go into the shredder. I find it under the last pile of papers; the big red button is still there on the desk. I stop and just look at it. The memory of that day when the button appeared on my desk flood back into my mind. Did all this start when the button appeared on my desk? The mystery of the big red button. The thought makes me smile. I completely forgot about the button while working so much. The mystery had been covered with a big pile of bureaucracy. It explains the feeling I have had for the last year — of having forgotten something important. Why didn’t I push it before? Maybe I wasn’t ready to find out. I tentatively reach towards it and put my hand on top of the button. It feels right. Now is the time!
I take a deep breath and push my hand down.
