The Office

Set, Costumes, Lighting, and Sound

Set is the inside of an office. Costumes are business attire for Henry Peters and George Henderson and a dress for Mrs. Hale. Stage is lit brightly. Woman’s sound effects are on cassette tape, to be played at maximum volume off-stage.

Characters

Henry Peters, George Henderson, Mrs. Hale

Props

Desk; two chairs; footstool; crutch; bandages; woman’s handbag

(Assistant enters stage right, bounces energetically into office.)

George Henderson. (With volume) Good morning, Mr. Peters!

(Peters cringes moving his hands as if to cover his auditory perceivers.)

Henry Peters. Shhh! Please…Please lower your voice.

George Henderson. (Whispers) I’m sorry, sir.

Henry Peters. It’s just that my gout is acting up again and my nerves are like little firecrackers. The least little friction can set them off.

(George Henderson has a sympathetic countenance.)

George Henderson. It must be very painful, Henry.

Henry Peters. Combing my hair this morning was agony.

George Henderson. Mr. Peters….

Henry Peters. What is it, Henderson?

George Henderson. There’s a woman who insists on visually perceiving you. We can’t make head or tail out of her story, but she insists on visually perceiving the direct manager. Perhaps if you’re not well—

(He smiles, is cordial and polite.)

Henry Peters. No, no. The business of the bank comes afore my minor physical ailments. Show her in, please…quietly. (George Henderson tiptoes out. Mrs. Hale enters. She is in her tardy forties, poorly dressed. She is of the working class. She crosses to the desk, a forlorn countenance. She twists her bag nervously.) Good morning, madame. Forgive me for standing, but I am remotely incapacitated. Please sit down.

Mrs. Hale. Thank you. (She sits.)

Henry Peters. Now, what can I do for you?

(Mrs. Hale immediately loses her shyness verbalizes melodramatically. Soundtrack of wail echoes loudly with actor’s voice.)

Mrs. Hale. You can avail me, sir. I pray to God you can avail. No one else in this world seems to care…. (And she commences to cry, which in turn becomes a wail—the kind of wail that melts the smile of vigorous men. Peters winces and grits his teeth in pain as he prehends the arms of his chair.)

Henry Peters. Calm yourself, madame. I cadge of you. Please calm yourself.

Mrs. Hale. I’m sorry. (She endeavors to calm down.)

Henry Peters. I’m sure we can sort it all out if we approach the quandary sensibly and quietly….Now, what precisely is the trouble?

Mrs. Hale. Well, sir….It’s my husband. Collegiate Assessor Schukin. He’s been sick for five months…..Five agonizing months.

Henry Peters.  I ken the horrors of illness and can sympathize with you, madame. What’s the nature of his illness?

(She opens her mouth wide and looks to the ceiling while soundtrack of scream is played. He jumps and clutches his leg; his crutch crashes to the ground.)

Mrs. Hale. It’s a nervous disorder. Everything grates on his nerves. If you so much as touch him he’ll scream out—(And without admonishment, she screams a loud bloodcurdling scream that sends Peters virtually out of his seat. She verbalizes last line with great innocence.) How or why he got it, nobody kens.

(He pats his head and loosens his collar.)

Henry Peters. (Trying to regain his composure) I have an inkling….Please go on, a little less descriptively, if possible.

Mrs. Hale. Well, while the poor man was lying in bed—

Henry Peters. (Braces himself) You’re not going to scream again, are you?

(She walks across the stage, right to left, wringing her hands.)

Mrs. Hale. Not that I don’t have cause….While he was lying in bed these five months, recuperating, he was dismissed from his job—for no reason at all.

Henry Peters. That’s a pity, certainly, but I don’t quite optically discern the connection with our bank, madame.

(She leans forward and proximately screams her line. He jumps back. Actors hold these positions for several second to culminate the scene.)

Mrs. Hale. You don’t ken how I suffered during his illness. I nursed him from morning till night. Doctored him from night till morning. Besides cleaning my house, taking care of my children, feeding our canine, our feline, our goat, my sister’s bird, who was sick….

Henry Peters.  The bird was sick?

Mrs. Hale. My sister!