It set new records. It resulted in new laws and
codes that included the retrofitting of sprinklers on all building floors from
now on citywide. It left us with a lot
of statistics. The most tragic one was
that three firemen lost their lives in what can only be described as the
perfect storm of office fires. Everything went wrong at once.
It was a building with a prime location and easy
accessibility. It had a modern feeling
of power and durability, which turned out to be false.
Our offices were spectacular. Visitors were often overheard expressing superlatives
under their breath. There were different
kinds of costly, well-oiled woods used throughout, in the paneling and the flooring
as well, so you had to take care when walking not to slip and slide into
something, such as the walls.
It was beautiful but not ostentatious. These offices
didn’t have to try to impress you, they just did. The company had a history of accomplishments
and stability, a source of reference for the entire industry. They didn’t try to impress you, they just did.
There were two interior staircases to insulate the
employees from the rest of the building.
There were oriental rugs, and walls of artwork in
gold, red and green, with thick, rich lashings of paint.
The wealth of beauty that surrounded us was
comforting; it made you feel safe.
But it was a false sense of security for peculiar
things were happening, almost as if we had just run out of luck. Omens were starting to line up.
On one of our floors, there was a continual wreathe
of smoke that circled the ceiling of the company lobby and the ceiling of the
unoccupied office right next to it (now used for storage by an outside
contractor about to complete a refinishing job.) Some mornings exiting the elevator became a
rush to get right back on when the smoke in the reception area was too thick to
breathe.
There was a screened vent outside the Ladies room
that always dripped water.
Maintenance came to inspect with flashlights and
little else. They gave their varying opinions.
Eventually, the water pressure was so low that
toilets couldn’t flush.
The smoke came back and the water kept dripping
right up until the day of the fire.
On that day, the fire on its cruel path was almost
like watching a friend die. Television views just showed the tremendous
whipping of flames and overwhelming smoke, but later reports showed that huge
panels of exterior glass melted; siding slid off the façade of the building;
and some of the girders and beams twisted into ominous shapes.
(When it was all over, employees who had returned to
view the final devastation in person, stood on the sidewalk and wept.)
After the pure shock, we adapted and did whatever it
took to prove that the company itself was still very much alive. We weren’t just a pretty face.
This was previous to the widespread use of the
Internet, so we jumped right into the world as it was then, some of us taking
on newly invented jobs. The receptionist
from the executive floor became the PR spokesman, conveying questions from the
press to the company president, who then answered with follow-ups and
conference calls. Staff and spouses of staff
answered phones switched to their homes.
Clients were contacted and work went on well into the night.
One executive on a brief inspection of what was left
of the building, now described by fire officials as “a very dangerous place,” kindly
retrieved several sentimental keepsakes for employees. He noted that the metal
door knobs on the admins’ desks were now lined up in neat little rows on the
floor; they were all that remained of the wooden desks which had evaporated.
There was one miracle. The explosion of combustible
rags, in the unoccupied office, created a fireball which exited into the company
lobby and would have incinerated everything and everyone in its path (I would
have been included). Except no one was there.
It was a Saturday.
Available in : A Quick Read: Short-Short Stories
This Story is Completely True!
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