Dave Concertini, president of the software company, was among the groaners. Why, he wondered, had he agreed to this? Admittedly, his employees needed to work together better, but this? And, worse, always being the guinea pig.
“Dave,” Babs called, “come start us out.”
He managed a half-smile as he moved through hoots and catcalls to the block of wood two feet square and a foot high. A few employees cheered you can do it’s, but they were the exceptions.
“Alright, please turn around.” Dave did. As Babs instructed how to form a protective net, Dave imagined dropping a cantaloupe from seven feet. How far would the brains...er, pulp...spatter?
Who was toward the front of the line, he wondered. He remembered Jim from accounting and Raye, the office manager. Neither were as physically imposing as the guys from shipping. They weren’t bodybuilders, but they discussing how much they could lift. Did they hold a grudge about his recent equipment denial?
“OK, everyone: quiet.” It sounded like Babs was moving away. Had everyone scattered? Dave wanted to check, but knew that would show lack of trust. Which, of course, he lacked. Still.... “When you’re ready, hold your arms to your sides, and fall straight back.”
Trying not to think of Gallagher or fruit salad, Dave closed his eyes and fell.
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