Category: Trunk Stories

prompt: “Your protagonist is a liar. Write a story where he/she tells the perfect lie, so he/she thinks. But will people believe the lie?“

I lie. Everyone does. Those who say they don’t aren’t paying attention. The cashier asks how they’re doing and they say “fine.” To answer truthfully would be uncomfortable. “First, I’m paying way too much for this ice cream my waist doesn’t need but my sugar addiction requires. Second, the screaming toddler in the next lane is reminding why some animals eat their young; and last, the soft rock ‘muzak’ playing in this store makes me want to stab someone.” So, they lie for no good reason.

I opt for brutal honesty in situations where lies get me nothing. “How are you?” they say. “Terrible, thanks.” “Did you find everything ok?” they ask. “Not at all. You’ve rearranged the frozen aisle three times in the last four months and made it hard to find the ice cream I need to fill my addiction.”

When I lie, it is with reason, and not a small amount of research. I’ve learned the best lies are light on the details, because the truth is too. It’s the way we remember things. We don’t know what song was playing on the radio when we drove to pick up our sweetheart the first time. Not even the calendar date unless we make an effort to commit it to memory. We might remember the day of the week; perhaps what we did if it led to something later. Of course, that’s only half memory. The rest is our imagination filling in the missing details. That’s the thing about memory, it’s plastic. I use this to great advantage when it’s necessary to lie.

“Marisol, I need your help to get this project out the door. We’re down a couple people due to illness and leave.” Totally true. “We’ve got sixty days, and I’ll only need around half your time.” Well, the first half of that was true.

“Steve,” she looked at me with an annoyed expression then down to her phone. She was always fiddling with her phone. “I don’t know that I can. Your project isn’t even on my radar…”

“Let’s make this work.” How do I get a yes from her? “Once we finish this project, I can devote some time to getting your projects out.” Total lie. Important, though. Without her help my team will miss our deadline and I’ll be out a bonus.

“As long as it’s hour for hour, we can deal.” She looked me in the eyes.

“At least.” Sixty days is long enough to fog the memory over to vagaries. “We’ll help you get your next project out on schedule. It’s six months out, right?” Nope, not happening, total falsehood, but she bought it.

“It is.” She reached out a hand, and I shook it. “Deal.”

It was time to create my own false memory. If I can convince myself, it’s easier to convince others. What was it I said? We’ll do our best to help your project, as scheduling allows. I replayed the conversation in my mind a couple times, with my little substitution and then let it go. I’ve never needed a word-for-word recital, just the gist.

#

My project finished ahead of time. No small part of that was due to Marisol’s help. Of course, her name isn’t on my bonus check.

Her entire team pitched in, making short work of it, even as they racked up 200 hours. She would expect the same from my team, but we had back-to-back work for the next nine months. We had a project queue that would have kept four teams busy, one member in the hospital, and another taking maternity leave. Too few people for too much work.

“Steve,” Marisol was playing with her phone again. “Let’s schedule a meeting for Monday so we can talk about when you and your team can help us out.”

“Uh, Marisol.” I pointed to the board behind my desk with our project schedule. “Have you looked at this? Darryl’s still out sick, and we’re not sure he’s coming back. Stacy’s on maternity leave for the next six weeks, and HR keeps denying our request for new hires.”

“Yeah, I saw your schedule.” Her jaw tightened. “It’s the same schedule that was up there when you came to my team for help, and we did.”

I spread my hands. “You did. And we appreciate it, Marisol, really. But we’re barely keeping our heads above water here.”

She crossed her arms. “You said you would help us out, at least hour for hour. I’m cashing my chips. Two hundred hours over the next ninety days. I don’t care if it’s you, or one person from your team, or your whole team.” She tilted her head toward me. “After all, it’s no less than my team did for you.”

“Marisol, I think we’re remembering things differently. As I recall, I said we’d do our best to help, depending on scheduling.” I put on my best disappointed face. “I really want to help, but I thought we’d have Darryl back, and a couple new hires.”

Marisol stabbed at her phone. I tried to ask her what she was doing, but no sooner had I opened my mouth than she raised a finger and “tutted” at me. Who the hell does she think she is? My kindergarten teacher? I took a breath, preparing to let her have it, when my voice came from her phone.

“… I’ll only need around half your time…” then hers, “Steve, I don’t know that I can. Your project…” she fiddled with the phone again. Her voice, “As long as it’s hour for hour, we can deal.” Oh god, she recorded the whole thing. My voice again, “At least. We’ll help you get your next project out on schedule.”

Marisol stopped the playback and played with her phone once more. “I’m not sure if you have a faulty memory, or you’re an insufferable liar, but I’ve seen it before with you. You’ll say one thing and do another, while blaming the other person for mis-remembering.” She laughed. “You go around gas-lighting everyone and expect no one to catch on.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say even though I kept trying to start. I must have looked like a fish. She held her phone at her side. Was she always playing with her phone? Or always recording?

“I can tell from your schedule that there’s no way you can keep your word and not bomb out on your own work.” She raised her phone. “I’m going to HR with this. Besides, I have a new hire starting next week.” Her eyes were… sad? “I pity you. If you paid any attention to your team, you’d realize they all want you gone. They’re sick of taking the blame when things go wrong and getting none of the credit when they go right.” Her parting shot as she left my office was “see you again never.”

#

The visit from HR, along with security to escort me out came an hour later. I brushed up my résumé and started the search. I ran into a former co-worker who told me they rolled my team into Marisol’s, and how happy the team was.

The search wasn’t going well. Engineers talk, rumors spread, and I have become a pariah. All those people calling me a liar? Pot, meet kettle. I considered constant brutal honesty. “No, I won’t help you, you help me.” Nah, that’d never work. For now, I’ve resolved to watch out for recording devices.