Gail’s Replacement:

If beige were a zip code, it would be Downers Grove, Illinois.

It was commercially-zoned suburban sprawl outside Chicago. It so resembled a hundred thousand suburban sprawls outside of Cleveland or Cedar Rapids that it could be a Lego set to build your own office park.

The layout was as predictable as a TGI Friday’s appetizer menu. Several nondescript office buildings conveniently located near a Denny’s, a Hooter’s, a Hyatt with a pool, and easy highway access to the airport.

The office buildings were infinitely interchangeable. The midwest headquarters for Velociti or Avail or Point Group could be located in Downers Grove one fiscal year, then be replaced by equally generic companies the next. If you looked closely, you could still see the holes in the stucco where the mastheads once hung.

The transience of it all was breathtaking.

-- After Gail thinks everyone at work is ignoring her, she winds up having drinks by herself at a Bennigan’s near her office. Another woman who is drinking alone strikes up a conversation with Gail. The woman is jaded, devil-may-care, and world-weary. They complain about their jobs and drink. As the night wears on, Gail finds herself doing karaoke versions of “One Is The Loneliest Number,” “Eleanor Rigby,” and “Don’t Start With Me Argentina.” She wakes up in her car the next morning and decides to go get her personal belongings from the office. As she approaches the main entrance, she notices her boss and all of her coworkers planting the memorial tree. The woman from the night before appears and asks Gail (who is just realizing she’s dead) if she’s ready to go.

-- Gail sounds a lot like fail.

-- What better name for a point on a map that embodied quiet desperation and clinical depression than Downers Grove?

-- Mention the church in Downers Grove that’s in one of the office buildings. Maybe Gail and her drinking buddy ponder aloud about that church. How uninspiring it must be to search for spiritual enlightenment in an office building. Even the most ardent atheist can feel stirred by the interior of Holy Name Cathedral in downtown Chicago, but a multifunction floor plan with high traffic carpet and a drop ceiling? And, really, Church of The Living Word, you in your repurposed office space in suburban Illinois, you’ve cornered the market on the mysteries of the universe? You’ve got all the answers? If that’s the case, we’re all royally fucked.

-- Gail should stare at the instructions of her microwave Lean Cuisine in disgust and say, “Oh, I see what I did wrong. I missed Step 5: Enjoy!”

-- 🎵 “We’ll make Kevin a place on Earth “ 🎶