Christian Jungersen - The Exception

Anne-Lise raises her head and sees Malene look quickly at the other two, who are nodding nervously.

‘I think you’ve made such a good start by telling us about how you’ve been feeling. Maybe the next thing to do is to arrange a meeting with Paul and decide on some changes together. How do you think that sounds?’

‘It sounds like a good idea.’

‘Great! We’ll do everything we can to turn this office into a good place to work.’

‘OK.’ Anne-Lise can’t hold on any longer. She is crying quietly now. The sudden kindness has overwhelmed her.

Malene has more to say. ‘But the changes mustn’t be at the expense of the people who use the Centre.’

‘No, of course not.’

‘It’s what you said about having contact with the users that’s so problematic. There must be plenty of other things that we could do to make you happier. The users like having one person who handles all their needs, you know, from appointments to events and research projects. And that includes book requests.’

Anne-Lise hears her own voice. High-pitched, almost a shriek. ‘But they don’t always like it! They often want me to help them.’

‘No, Anne-Lise. That’s not right. If someone said they preferred to speak to you, they would be passed on to you at once. No question about it.’

‘But you told Camilla off because she transferred Stephan Colwitz’s call from Geneva to my phone.’

‘No, I did not.’

‘When you were ill, I spoke to him. I dealt with his question and then after you came back, he phoned again and asked Camilla to put him through to me. It was about some books he was interested in. And then I heard you reprimand Camilla. You said she mustn’t do that again.’

‘Anne-Lise, maybe you should go home. You’re not well. It’s like some kind of breakdown. What you’re saying simply isn’t true.’

Anne-Lise’s skin feels damp all over. She turns to Camilla. ‘Camilla, didn’t Malene tell you off for putting Stephan Colwitz through to me?’

Camilla has been on the edge of her chair all this time. Now she leaps up and lashes out at Anne-Lise. ‘You can’t turn this place upside down just to suit you. It isn’t your office. You have to consider the rest of us as well.’

‘But Malene has told you that you mustn’t transfer people to me when they ask for the librarian, hasn’t she?’

Camilla looks at Malene. ‘I can’t take any more of this. I’ve had enough.’

Malene almost throws herself off her chair and walks away. In the doorway, she stops, turns to Anne-Lise and sneers: ‘I could reel off hundreds of examples when we’ve paid particular attention to what you wanted. You couldn’t have found a place where your colleagues treated you better; it simply doesn’t exist! When I think of all the time I spent explaining your tasks to you and the research problems and—’

‘But they weren’t part of my training! Why do you always give me jobs that you know I haven’t been trained for? It took me four years to become a qualified librarian. Can’t you just let me get on and do what I’m supposed to do?’

Iben cuts in: ‘Many people are only too pleased to have a variety of tasks at work.’

‘But … I’m knowledgeable about books. Here, all I’m doing is filing, as if I were a secretary.’

Malene makes a point of glancing apologetically at Camilla before turning to Anne-Lise. ‘That wasn’t a very clever thing to say.’

Iben backs her up. ‘Secretaries are important too.’

‘I know. Why do you keep telling me?’

‘Because you said …’

‘But … you knew what I meant …’

Suddenly Camilla runs off. She has heard the phone ring.

The others follow her more slowly. Halfway out of the room they pause, as if to add something. But they don’t.

Anne-Lise sits still, breathing heavily, her arms resting on the table. She looks at her arms and blinks several times. This lunch break will come back to haunt her. Everything. Her shaking — they will use that against her as well.

Malene remembers the times when she was little and came running home after playing with one of her friends. She would rush straight into the sitting room where her mother, Jytte, would be seated. Her mother’s friend, Susan, would be there too, always in the same place on their plush brown-velvet sofa. Her mum would tell Malene to go off and play somewhere else, upstairs or in the garden. Malene remembers glimpsing her mother’s wet cheeks as she would stare past her friend.

When Malene mentioned this years later, her mother explained that to protect her daughter she would normally cry about her work in the bathroom or in the bedroom. She only wept in the sitting room when Susan was there.

Malene’s mother was a secretary in a large accounting firm and her father was an insurance man. Both of them worked in Kolding. Malene was the only one in the family to go to university.

Her mother had been with the firm for about ten years when the office came under a new administrative head. Malene’s mother had been responsible for staff schedules, but he took that away from her. He allocated lower-grade secretarial work to her, and managed to find fault with everything she did.

After a few weeks the boss started to tell jokes at her expense, even when she was present. He also made it clear that people who didn’t laugh along irritated him, hinting that soon one of them would become the butt of his jokes.

Gradually people became anxious when she was around. They began to avoid eye contact with her, and her very presence in the office seemed to create tension and make the whole atmosphere unpleasant. Not long after that, several people took her to task, regardless of whether the boss was there or not.

Then came the news that the boss had been promoted. He had moved to another branch office. Once more, Malene’s mother wept, but this time with joy. There were celebrations at home and Malene’s father opened a bottle of port that had been in a cupboard since the previous Christmas.

Jytte’s life, however, did not change. Everyone still felt awkward the moment she came through the door. They all hoped that she would leave quietly and find another job. It soon became clear to her, and to others as well, that she had lost her old easy manner.

Her doctor referred her to a psychologist, but she never worked again. Young Malene felt dreadfully ashamed when her mother spoke self-pityingly about it in public, even in front of people she barely knew.

‘At my old job, they used to behave as if they wanted me dead. How can people behave like that?’

Camilla is sitting at her desk. Iben and Malene are standing close together so that they can’t be overheard in the library. The lunch break is over. None of them had expected to be attacked by Anne-Lise in the middle of such a stressful situation.

Malene plays with Camilla’s stapler, snapping out flattened, useless staples. ‘It’s fair, isn’t it, that I show more affection towards my best friend than towards a colleague? Isn’t that the point of having a close friend? What does she expect?’

Iben strokes Malene’s arm comfortingly.

‘Instead of offering us something we can base a friendship on, she simply demands favours. It’s so immature, like a spoilt child.’

Malene keeps glancing back and forth between Iben and Camilla. Both appear as worn out as she feels. She can hear how tired her voice sounds. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who’s so incapable of giving a little of herself.’

‘It’s typical of her attitude. It’s like this thing she has about not working in the library. I mean, is she a trained librarian, or isn’t she? What did she think she was supposed to be doing here? Doesn’t she want to work with books and have her desk where the books are?’