Wilson walked into my office dressed for, well I’m not exactly sure what he was dressed for, but he was a sight. Blue jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, yellow hard hat, safety googles, with a face shield over that, along with work boots, and a tool belt.
I sat back and took it all in. He stared back at me like there was nothing unusual about the getup.
“Did they move Halloween?” I asked. “Maybe it was tucked in there somewhere in the big Covid relief bill and I missed it.”
“No,” he said, sitting down and taking out a small notebook and pen.
“A Village People revival?” I asked.
He shook his head while scribbling notes.
“Okay, I give up,” I said. “Can you tell me why you’re dressed like you’re in an OSHA workplace safety video.”
He made a few more notes, then looked up.
“I’m not sure if I’m going to need two-by-fours, or four-by-fours for this,” he said, ignoring my questions.
“I’d go with the two-by-fours,” I said. “You can’t go wrong with those.”
He nodded and scribbled some notes and looked back up.
“How much do you weigh?” he asked.
“None of your business,” I said.
“See, that’s the problem I’m encountering,” Wilson said, sitting back.
“I’m guessing that may not be your only problem today,” I said. “Want to tell me now why you’re dressed like that?”
“Roz asked me to turn Diane’s old office into a nap room,” he said. “I’m building sleep pods, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how much weight they need to support.”
I stared at him and worked to sort out the news. It wasn’t easy.
“Let me start with the personnel side. So Diane isn’t coming back, correct?”
He shook his head. “No, didn’t you see the story on her on that financial website? She moved to Mexico to work remotely and found some beach town. She said she can live on six dollars a week. She gave notice two weeks ago. Says she has enough savings to live until one-hundred and three”
“Okay, that’s settled. And the nap room?”
“Roz was getting a lot of questions from people coming back into the office if it would be possible for them to keep up their nap schedule. So she decided to use Diane’s old office and convert it into a nap room.”
“We’re going to give those returning to work a place to nap?”
“Roz says it boosts productivity and alertness. She’s a big proponent of workplace naps now,” he said.
“I don’t nap,” I said.
“You don’t work at home,” Wilson said, matter of factly.
“So, being home makes you tired?” I asked.
Wilson shrugged. “You’d have to ask Roz. All I know is she asked me if I was handy with tools and stuff.”
I frowned, thinking this from a man who has trouble putting batteries in a flashlight. Handy was not among the dozens of words that would came to mind if asked to describe Wilson.
“And you of course said yes, Mr. Handy.”
He nodded. “I figured it would give me a chance to get some new work clothes and boots,” he said. “And the hard hat is pretty cool, right?”
“It’s extremely bright.”
Wilson examined his notebook, looking puzzled as he flipped through the pages. He was lost in thought, or maybe just having trouble seeing through both the googles and the face shield.
“I’ve come up with a diagram for one of the possibilities,” he said. “It’s for bunk beds. See what you think.”
He reached across and handed me the notebook. I was staring at two lines, one on top of the other, and two stick figures lying above each line.
“It certainly looks like you have the concept for bunks,” I said. “But it’s kind of lacking in details, like length, width, height. Those kinds of things.”
“I’m working on that,” he said, standing up and taking the notebook back.
“Come on,” he said, “let me show you. Maybe you can help me with this. I need another set of eyes on the prototype I built. It’s not looking right.”
And just like that we were off, out of my office and down the hall. We turned a corner and passed a dark office illuminated by a lava lamp.
“That’s Brett, he came back last week. He’s a napper. Brought a cot in and everything. This is just the type of stuff Roz is worried about,” Wilson said. “If people come back and go rogue with their naps, you know sleeping under the desks and stuff like that.”
“Yes, you want to make sure we have an orderly napping system in place for those tired souls.”
“Exactly,” Wilson said.
We arrived at what was Diana’s old office. There was a handmade sign on the door.
Ssshhh Hard at Sleep!
I followed Wilson inside to see the oddest bunk bed configuration ever. The top bunk was slanted at a what appeared to be a thirty-degree angle. The bottom bunk was somewhere far below it, an inch or two off the floor.
“See what I mean, it needs tweaking, right?” Wilson asked.
“I think we might be a few steps away from tweaking,” I said, as Wilson studied his notebook.
“But it does kind of look like my blueprint,” he said.
“Well, yes, it does, which may be the problem. For starters, that top bunk could seriously injure someone,” I said. “I mean, given the steep angle of it.”
“You’re always nitpicking,” he said.
“And there’s no ladder, so what, we simply levitate up to the top bunk?” I asked.
There was a rap at the door and Big Mike walked in.
“Hey, are the sleep pods done yet?” he asked. “I was hoping to take one for a test nap.”
Mike looked at the bunks and scratched his chin.
“Where’d we get these?” he asked. “The Land of Broken Bunks?”
“Talk to the engineer,” I said.
Wilson threw down his notebook. “That’s it,” he said. “These are perfectly comfortable. I’ll show you.”
He went to the next office over and came back with a chair.
“Look, all you do is climb up to the top bunk and you’re on your way to sleepy land.”
Wilson hoisted himself up and the second he plopped down on the thin mattress the wood splintered and the bunk collapsed with a crash, landing on the bottom bunk.
“Okay, I’m awake now,” Mike said leaving.
A second later Brett appeared.
“Mind keeping it down, I’m trying to nap.”