Working the System...

She tried not to roll her eyes. One, she knew that he was only there to help her and two, the shard of glass in her right eye made rolling it very difficult.

"You will find this easier if you listen to what I am telling you."

"I am listening. I just don't agree with you."

"You don't have to agree with me, you just have to listen and understand that I know what I'm talking about. This is my job. It's been my job for a thousand years. I have some experience here."

She sighed. "Fine, go over that last part again."

He moved his notes around going back a few pages to where he thought he had lost her. "The panel will ask you a series of questions. I don't know what exact questions they will be, but I have some examples of past questions we can practice with. You will want to avoid violent language..."

And this is where she tried again and failed again not to roll her eyes. Eye? Eye.

"I have this," she gestured toward her head, "that they will be staring at but a little violent language they can't handle?"

"They have seen worse. And yes. They prefer to only hear positive things. Violent language is not positive."

"But it can be," she had tried to make this point before when he had given her a sample question and then stopped her as soon as she started to answer. "It's figurative not literal."

"Well they literally do not want to hear figurative violent language."

"Then I don't know how to describe my best day."

Now it was his turn to sigh. "Okay, you tell me, again, about your best day and I will help you change the wording."

"It was my first time killing it on stage. I had bombed hard the week before. Really tanked. But for whatever reason that night everything was firing. I was slaying the material. Every punchline hit them square between the eyes, bam! Solid knockouts. They were dying. I walked off stage knowing I had killed it and knowing I could keep killing it and hadn't flamed out."

"How about, your best day was the day you realized that comedy could be a career for you. You had struggled in the past but this day you made everyone laugh and you felt that you could continue to do so. It was a turning point for you in the pursuit of your dreams."

"Maybe. But that doesn't sound like me. Who actually talks that way?"

"People who want to make it past the panel and on to the next stage of their time here."

"Okay, but why? They have my files. They know who I am and what I did. Why pretend now? Why try and polish it up and make it fit what they want now? Isn't it a little late for that?"

"Because this is the way it's done. You have to work with the system we have if you want to make progress. They are looking for unfinished business. For ways you might still need to grow. Progress can be shown in a lot of ways."

And she really did want to make progress. The others she was waiting with had told her in the next step she would get to fix her face. And her arm, which honestly was a mess as well. She wasn't sure how she was able to move it with it facing that direction. Her leg wasn't much to look at either, but you for sure would notice her face first, the glass shard was kind of amazing in its own way. And he was right, there were worse. She was amazed at all of the ways people ended up here. Her first day she had thought she would never get used to sight of the catastrophic injuries, but then she realized it was much worse when you couldn't see what had happened. The ones who had looked normal. Just fine. But still here. She shuddered a little.

"The whole reason I went in to comedy was to avoid boardrooms and panels."

He shrugged, "You are not the first person to be disappointed in the glorious beyond."

She laughed, "Now you have jokes?"

He looked puzzled, "No. That wasn't a joke."

She laughed even harder.

He frowned a little, "Let's get back to your preparations. I do not want you to feel disappointed if you don't pass the panel the first time. Not everyone does. You have three chances before, well before you don't have anymore chances let's leave it at that for now. So don't get too nervous on this first time in, you will either do fine or you will have another opportunity."

They spent the next bit of time studying and practicing her answers so she could describe her life in only positive terms. No figurative violent language. No negative things at all. Relentlessly positive. She hoped that she wasn't making a huge mistake. What if getting past this panel not only got her a new face (and arm, and leg) but got her stuck in Pollyanna town? What if she was never allowed to be snarky or sarcastic ever again?

When her number was called and she was to face the panel he clapped her on her good shoulder and wished her luck. "You'll be fine. Just remember, positive!"

She sat down in front of the panel and waited for her questions. She could do this. She knew she could do this.

"Tell us, what was the last thing to go through your head as you passed; the last thing on your mind?"

"The last thing to go through my mind or my head?"

They looked at each other puzzled. "Are they not the same?"

"Well no, the last thing to go through my mind was, 'what is that idiot in the truck doing?' The last thing to go through my head was this shard of glass."

Fuck it, she had two more chances.