[Be sure to read Plays No. 49, 50, and 51, Craig Taylor’s other tiny plays about London.]
(Two men stand at a bar in the financial district of The City. The NatWest building is visible out of one of the windows. They’ve set their briefcases at their feet.)
Harry: It’s frustrating.
Michael: Frustrating is one way to describe it. I propose we make up a list of those who haven’t attended the last four meetings and simply revoke membership.
Harry: That would be effective.
Michael: Then we send out a form to remaining members that allows us to collect all their updated details.
Harry: Someone would need to process the forms.
Michael: It’s the kind of thing that could be done for a few hours each day. We could bring in someone from Personnel to work on it.
Harry: But to deal with membership details?
Harry: They’d have to respect confidentiality.
Michael: Most of Personnel is fine. There are only a few that have any sort of airs and graces. It would be a question of finding someone who knows when to stop talking as much as she knows when to start.
Harry: Or he knows when to start.
Michael: I beg your pardon?
Harry: You said she. But in my experience I’ve had plenty of problems with the men in Personnel.
Michael: Of course, of course. Yes, you’re absolutely right.
Michael: Though the men don’t seem to be quite as diffident, do they?
Harry: Well, there’s that.
Michael: You’ve seen it too?
Harry: To a certain extent.
Michael: You’ve noticed? I’m glad someone else has. I was beginning to feel I was on my own with that observation. I don’t know the right word for it.
Harry: No, an adjective doesn’t immediately come to mind.
Michael: Is uppity too strong?
Harry: Hard to say, isn’t it?
Michael: You see, the other problem is our e-mails just aren’t being picked up by members. Half of them don’t check their home accounts for messages concerning meeting times.
Harry: Yes, I know.
Michael: Even I only check my e-mail at home once a week. It gets filled with such unsolicited nonsense. People don’t want to open up their accounts to deal with an avalanche of messages they didn’t even ask for.
Harry: It’s a huge problem these days.
Michael: “Do you need help with your creditors?” That sort of thing.
Michael: “How about some cheap plane tickets to Jamaica?”
Harry: I believe I received that one too.
Michael: But you know what the worst is?
Harry: No, I don’t.
Michael: The worst is the pornography. It just comes from out of nowhere.
Harry: Yes, I agree. Somehow they get your name from a list or what have you…
Michael: “Hot Lesbians” and such.
Harry: Their tactic is to flood your mailbox with more and more messages even if you write back asking them not to. It’s awful.
Michael: You ever take a peek at it?
Harry: No, I can’t say that I have.
Michael: No, me neither. I find that sort of thing has no effect on me. Hot, licking lesbians. Seems just ridiculous.
Michael: There was even one for fat lesbians. Fat lesbians. And they were supposedly tied to each other somehow, if you can believe that. Some sort of contraption of knots apparently.
Michael: Right. Well, what do you say? Shall we have another?
Harry: I really shouldn’t really stay. Train’s at quarter past.
Michael: A half pint?
Harry: Perhaps just a half.
Michael: Good man. Good man.