Джордан Шор - The Search

George was well aware that the crisis team had ignored his advice against escorting the passengers’ families to Yellowknife, and their doing so still annoyed him.

“Did all the families accept the invitation to Yellowknife?” he asked even though he knew the answer.

“No, most of them declined the offer.”

“I wonder why,” he mumbled and shook his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re too upset to travel, it could—”

“No, I meant, why would they want to travel to Yellowknife?” He cut her off.

“To be near the crash site,” Trisha replied, and sounded slightly insulted.

“What crash site?”

“The lake,” Trisha said. “Yellowknife is right by the Great Slave.”

“But no one knows for certain that the plane crashed into the lake,” he argued.

“The plane has to be in the lake, George. Where else would it be?”

George thought of the German plane that had crashed into the French Alps, and how the entire plane had simply crumbled after the explosion. The debris from the plane had appeared as ordinary garbage spread across the mountainside. Looking at the landscape, no one would have guessed that a plane crash had ever taken place there.

“Just because the plane dropped below radar near the lake, that doesn’t necessarily mean it crashed into the lake,” he said. “It could have kept going. Perhaps it crashed into a mountain.”

“But someone would have noticed the debris by now,” Trisha argued.

George didn’t see the need to bring up the German plane.

“Besides, what are the families going to do in Yellowknife?” he asked. “Except stare at the lake, I mean.”

“Perhaps they’ll find comfort in being around other victims’ families,” Trisha said. “And maybe they’ll feel a sense of relief at being close to the crash site.”

What crash site ? he thought, and then imagined a scene in which the families had scattered flowers across the shore and said their goodbyes to their loved ones, only to learn that the actual crash had occurred at an entirely different location.

“Either way, it can’t hurt,” Trisha added.

It can’t hurt to have the victims’ families running around a potential crash site ? Then he imagined another scene in which the families stumbled across the remains of their relatives scattered across a nearby mountain.

“No, it can’t hurt,” he said, and tried his best to disguise the sarcasm in his voice, as he had no desire to argue further.

George wondered if the dangerous idea was a result of people in general not thinking rationally in a time of crisis, or if the airlines company itself was the problem. Either way, he thought the company had catastrophe written all over it, and a guided tour to a potential crash site for the families—who were to be plaintiffs in a future lawsuit against the airlines—only emphasized the problem in management. Even the name Fare Airlines was a stupid one, not to mention the contest that had led to the name.

“Wait a minute!” Trisha twitched and suddenly pointed at him, her eyes wide. “You’re the one who came up with that naming contest.”

George sighed internally.

“That was totally awesome. I love the way you tricked the media into giving the company millions of dollars’ worth of advertising. Do you have any other strategies lined up?” Trisha asked, radiating enthusiasm.

The actual contest had never been George’s idea. He was just left dealing with the repercussions of what must have been the dumbest contest ever in American corporate history. However, he didn’t feel the need to set Trisha Boyle straight.

“Nope.”

“I have an idea,” Trisha said. “But you have to share credit if you use it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You could announce to the press that from now on female passengers will get a discount based on their cup sizes.” Trisha gesticulated with her hands across her chest. “If you got double D’s, then you’ll get the double discount. Can you imagine the billboards, George?” Trisha asked, before she had a minor “seizure” while stuttering, “D.D. as in double discount. Get it, George?”

This time, hearing Trisha Boyle pronounce some tremendous laughter didn’t scare him. Instead, he thought her laughter was quite amusing. At first, George couldn’t restrain himself from laughing, but eventually, he began to feel guilty for laughing at her, rather than with her.

Trisha wiped the tears from her eyes. “That’s good stuff. So, what you think?”

“I thought it was funny.”

Didn’t you hear me laughing—at you?

“I know it was funny,” Trisha said. “But are you going to use it?”

“Use what?”

“My idea,” Trisha said with a proud smile. “And you promised you’d share credit. Don’t you forget that, George.”

George wasn’t sure if Trisha Boyle was seriously suggesting implementing a discount based on the size of women’s breasts, or if her comment was just another attempt at humor. However, judging be her expression, she appeared to be serious.

“That would be illegal. I mean, we can’t break the law,” he said hesitantly.

“No, it can’t be illegal, can it?”

Judging women by the size of their breasts, isn’t illegal?

But on the other hand, men appear to be doing so on a regular basis.

Well, not all men. I mean, I do no such thing.

“Trust me, it has to be illegal.”

“No, it can’t be illegal to lie to the press. It’s not as if we’re lying to the cops or anything,” Trisha said. “It’s not our fault if they’re gullible.”

George just realized he’d somehow misinterpreted Trisha Boyle’s plan.

“Wait, you didn’t think I meant to actually implement the discount, did you, George?” Trisha asked, and then pronounced a short laugh.

George felt dumb, and now, ridiculed. “What exactly is your plan, Trisha?”

“I’m merely suggesting you trick the media into believing so. And once the news goes viral, you can disclose that you only did it for the media exposure.”

“But that plan would solely depend on the media writing a retraction,” he said. “I mean, why would the media set people straight, once they’d realized they’ve been manipulated?”

“Oh, yeah.” Trisha slumped down. “I never thought of that.”

Even if Trisha’s suggestion was both absurd and inappropriate, the possibility of provoking people in order to get their attention was not. If George could get the press to misinterpret his intentions, then they’d have no choice but to write a retraction. And if the media didn’t see the need to correct their mistake, then he could even threaten them with a potential lawsuit. George started to wonder as he thought of the possibilities of such a creative marketing strategy. Perhaps he could use words with different meaning in order to lure the media into drawing the wrong conclusion?

What words associated with airline travel can be misinterpreted?

As his mind wandered, he lost his focus on the road. Fortunately, the automatic braking system engaged and slowed down the car just enough, to avoid a collision with the other car crossing the intersection. George felt relieved with today’s chain of events; his own car didn’t have an automatic braking system.

Trisha, however, was boiling over with rage. George tried his best to keep her from sounding the horn, but his attempt was futile. As he carefully drove through the intersection, his much younger co-worker kept screaming out the passenger window even though the car in question was long gone.

“Why aren’t you upset?” Trisha asked with wet eyes.

“I’m really sorry. I should have been paying better attention to the road.”