Nanna's Purse

I was stuck staring at the aluminum can of air freshener on the table while enduring a team meeting.  "Spring and Renewal" it promised, swirling blue and pink vines around the print.  You'd think that I would be focused more intently on the meeting.  The truth of the matter is that I was there merely as a courtesy, the sort of thing to foster the illusion of "team."  I'm not seen by them as much more than a minion of the outdoors and in a dead-end job.  So while I was here for the tea and cookies and to keep me from screaming "equal rights," that was the end of it.

Spring and renewal, really?  I have spent more than a little time up to my elbows in fresh soil and I can tell you there is nothing enticing about it to the average person.  Spring and renewal is a thing that rises from the soil and the earth; dead things.  You could become mystical about it and say it was the circle of life but really it has to do with nutrients.

At least when you work in the greenhouse, which is where I belong when business meetings aren't in.  It's about as unglamorous as you get I'm not one for complaining; in reality, I'm quite happy with what I do even if it won't exactly get me a date.  Guys seem to count it against you if you have dirt under your nails and staining your skin.  My skin is a bit ruddy to begin with from all the sun, but the soil definitely doesn't help things.  Glancing down at my hands now, I can see that my trimmed nails had brought along some of the glass houses for a ride.

"Macey.  Macey, did you hear me?"

The voice is slightly nasal and heavy with condescension, pushing me out of the more idle thoughts.  When I tear my eyes from my overly-fascinating nail-beds and upwards, the shift manager is staring down the laminated, peeling table at me.  Here at Nanna's Nursery, we don't put our money into nice tables; we save that for lining Nanna's tapestry-patterned purse.

"Sir?"

"I said. . . you have a performance review with Nanna tomorrow at four p.m."

Ah.  That would explain why everyone else at the table is staring down towards this end.  Something more interesting than the tea and cookies just happened.  Let us be honest, no one likes to be involved in company 'team meetings.'  For Nanna's Nursery it's no different in that regard.  We have all personally met 'Nanna' at one time or another.  When you think of grandmothers you probably think of fresh-baked cookies, hearty home-cooked meals and hugs brimming with love and acceptance.  Kindly old ladies who remember The Good Ol' Days.

This Nanna is none of those things.  This woman makes the unblinking eyes of any star National Geographic predator look dewy and sweet.  I'm including sharks in this.  Despite the apparent age that a title like 'Nanna' bestows, you would never call her 'Old Bat' or 'Tough Old Bird' or anything like that.  While she may be substantially older than myself or anyone else sitting at this table, there is something vital about her.

Sometimes she reminds me of the soil; sometimes 'Nanna' reminds me of the dead things in the damp ground in sterile Styrofoam containers beneath my hands and the potential energy there.  Hidden but humming, just waiting for the right set of circumstances to be spun out by the universe before it shows itself.

Having a meeting with management on such short notice just fills people with the instinctive dread that comes with being abruptly informed that you'll be talking to the higher-ups.  You fear for your job.      

Having a meeting with 'Nanna' is somehow so. . . so much worse.