The Shift: Scenes from the Year Humanity Lost Sex
Page 8
“Exactly. I know we like to use the sample videos, but feel free to buy some stock photos and make a comic or slideshow for an example scenario. Something like a conversation between two people of the same gender where one of them is talking too much about using their new equipment and making the other one uncomfortable. Use photos of post-shift models if you can but just use women if it comes to it.”
“Got it, I’ll start the first draft right away,” Farid said.
“Want me to send a company-wide email about the situation?” Rebecca asked.
“Just keep it vague,” Hannah said, “It’s going to get out quickly and I don’t feel the need to spell it out for everyone’s who’ll hear it through the rumor mill anyway.”
She stood up to leave.
“Good work you two. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some company policy to comb over.”
She opened the door before shutting it again.
“Rebecca, could you send that recommendation to me? I’d like to print it out and hand it to the executives myself.”
“Certainly.”
“And leave the letter of termination to me. I’ve wanted to take out this bastard for a long time.”
Film Review
“One More Time”
Seattle Times
Saturday October 6, 278 days after
★★☆☆☆ | By Martina Flores
It’s not the fault of “One More Time” that it’s the last major studio release that was filmed entirely before The Shift. It’s an overwhelming and unwelcome responsibility for the slight romantic comedy, which likely had no ambitions beyond increasing the bankability of its two leads. Its producers probably wished the distinction went to some souped-up super hero flick or some Oscar-bait period drama but they had no such luck. They even tried to bury it by releasing it to theaters without screening it for critics. It’s a classic strategy for getting in front of a film’s critical reception, but in this case it probably just ensured critics would write their think piece-y takes first and then slot in the details afterwards.
As for the movie itself: the short version is it’s the seduction sequence from “Groundhog Day” stretched out to feature length.
The long version is Trent (Pete Tillerman) is a schlubby guy who works a non-descript office job and makes a halfhearted pass at Lanette (Wendy Urban) one night at a friend’s party. He strikes out, goes to bed, and wakes up the morning of that same day. The cycle continues and he decides the only way to break it is to woo Lanette whom he concludes must me his true love. At first he simply tries to up his game at the party but a dozen attempts later he resorts to seeking her out in her daily life to gain an advantage. Stalking, in other words.
The film obviously thinks it’s been long enough since “Groundhog Day” to introduce the premise to a new generation of audiences. Trent even explicitly references the film trying to explain his plight to Lanette. She says she’s never heard of the movie.
But while the Bill Murray classic details its protagonist’s quest to become a better man, “One More Time” doesn’t venture beyond its romance. Trent never takes the opportunity to better himself or experience life outside his single-minded quest to win over Lanette. It’s not even clear that the relationship will be fulfilling for either of them. There’s a small scene of them connecting via nostalgic reminiscing over old Saturday morning cartoons, but that’s about it. The film doesn’t do a great job of backing up Trent’s assumption it must be true love.
Which might not all be quite so bad if we all didn’t have nine-months of Post-Shift life to help notice how weird the gender politics are. A few perfunctory efforts are made to characterize Lanette, mostly as a Cool Girl Who’s Not Like the Others, but she’s too often treated like a human-shaped key that will unlock Trent from his prison.
This attitude even takes a turn for the scary when Trent blows up at Lanette halfway through the movie. His entitled possessiveness results in a comeuppance of sorts, but it leaves a sour taste in the viewer’s mouth for the rest of movie that makes it hard to root for him from that point on.
There are a few standouts that prevent the movie from being a total slog. Hellen Marlborough features as Lanette’s overly-credulous roommate who believes Trent’s story every time he tells it and becomes his main accomplice. Her daffy willingness to swallow the plot’s conceit over and over subtly undermines the whole premise and provides most of the film’s laughs. The film also takes advantage of its setting of Minneapolis, affording the city an air of romance most depictions eschew in favor of a patronizing bemusement.
“One More Time” would likely be receiving just as cool a reception if it was released a year ago, but it’s not helped by the current climate. People are less likely to relate to Trent’s mindset and there’s even less reason to pine for the sort of attention Lanette is subjected to. It’s all too Pre-Shift. It’s all too unidirectional. It’s the last film to not be reshot because it couldn’t be reshot. Everything is too male and female. It’s not much worth watching but definitely worth remembering as the answer to a trivia question five years from now.
Clothes Shopping
Tanger Outlet Southaven
Southaven, MS
Wednesday August 22, 233 days after
“God,” Kim said as she twisted around to see how she looked, “It kinda sucks it took men wearing women’s jeans to get pockets in them, but I’m not gonna complain.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Courtney said.
Rec League Softball Game
Fernald School Field
Waltham, MA
Tuesday July 10, 190 days after
Randy stomped on home plate and thrust his hands into the air upon scoring the inning’s eighth run. The throw home bounced in three seconds late and four feet wide.
Noah glared from the dugout with his arms crossed as the batter who just hit the triple adjusted his prosthetic leg then waved his cap from across the field as he received accolades shouted by his teammates. Randy collected chest-bumps – really more side-bumps – from his teammates.
That was it.
Noah marched across home plate and approached the group as they entered their dugout.
“This is a co-ed softball league,” he announced.
Most of the group turned back to look at him.
“What was that?” Randy asked.
“This is a co-ed softball league,” Noah repeated.
The team exchanged a few confused looks.
“What do you mean?” Randy asked.
“How many women are on your team?” Noah demanded.
Randy scrunched his face. “Seriously?”
Noah’s expression didn’t change.
“Uh, okay, let’s see… we’ve got Nicole back there,” he said and pointed back to someone who raised her hand, “Then we’ve got Jennifer C. and Jennifer M. too.”
“And me too!” someone shouted from behind the chain link fence, “Been a chick my whole life!”
“Shut up Jeff, you’re not helping!” Randy shouted behind his shoulder. He turned back with an apologetic nod.
“I only saw one of them play defense last inning,” Noah said.
“Uh, I guess so?”
Noah kept staring.
“Look, I’m not sure what rule you’re trying to invoke here,” Randy said.
“This is a co-ed softball league. Batting order alternates sexes and there needs to be four women playing defense during any inning.”
Randy couldn’t stop himself from snorting out a small laugh. It only made Noah frown more.
“Listen,” Randy said, “I don’t know where you’ve been the last seven months, but-”
“There’s a competitive league they organize for men’s teams,” Noah said.
“Just let it go, Noah!” the shortstop shouted from across the diamond, “It’s not a big deal!”
“No, Cassie!” he shouted back, “This is bullshit!”
“Hey, we’re not even that good, I promise,” Randy said, �
��We’ve only had two wins this whole season. We’re just having a really good inning. I’m sorry if it came off like we were showboating or something, we just usually don’t play this well.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for the fact your team of all dudes can’t compete in this mixed league?”
The goodwill drained out of Randy’s face.
“Look, Noah, was it? I’m pretty sure you’re aware, but these don’t make it any easier to play softball.”
“You had those tits last year, fatass!” Jeff shouted from the dugout.
“Jeff, you fucking asshole, shut the fuck up!”
He turned back, unsure who he should be more mad at.
“How many AAPs are on your team?” Noah asked.
Randy sighed.
“We’ve got three. There’s-”
“D-League teams can only have two players that played high-school or-”
“Just let me finish, okay?” Randy snapped, “One of the Jennifers played softball in college and me and Seth were on a team together in high school.”
He pointed to the runner on third who’d taken a few steps towards home plate to hear better.
“That’s three players. Teams with three to four AAPs play in the C-League.”
“Jesus buddy, are you serious?”
Noah remained stone-faced. Randy kept pointing with the back of his hand.
“Seth is… he’s…”
He dropped his hands to his sides.
“He lost his fucking leg, man. He’s not in the same playing shape, okay?”
He looked over to Seth, not quite making eye contact.
“That didn’t seem to slow him down on that triple,” Noah said.
“Hey, I can just sit out the rest of the game,” Seth said, a few paces closer to the argument.
“It’s too late for that,” said Noah.
“Okay, fine, what do you want then?” Randy said and threw up his hands, “Do you want us to forfeit? Do you just want the win?”
“I want you out of this league.”
Randy crossed his arms and smirked.
“What, you’re going email the league and tell them we’re on the high end for good players?” he asked, “You think they’re going to kick us out for that?”
“Maybe not,” Noah said and peered behind Randy’s shoulder, “But maybe they would for violating the league’s alcohol policy.”
Randy clenched his teeth.
“You’re going to snitch on us for drinking beer at a fucking beer league game?”
“Kick his ass, Randy!” Jeff shouted.
“Shut up, Jeff!” Nicole said and punched him in the arm.
They continued their stare-down. Randy uncrossed his arms and held one first just above his waist. He lowered it back down to his side.
“Fine, if you’re gonna be an asshole, game’s off.”
Randy stooped down to pick up home plate and marched towards the parking lot. The rest of his team followed with varying levels of indignation. Nicole dragged Jeff off the field as quickly as she could before he started anything. The fielders stayed still, giving the other team as much room as possible.
Noah watched from where home plate once was until the last person shut their car door and backed out.
“Post-game at Fit-Z’s is cancelled,” he announced and headed towards the dugout.
Introductory Date
Le Pain Quotidien Café
Los Angeles, CA
Sunday November 4, 307 days after
Dominic leaned against a tree next to the entrance of the parking structure without looking at his phone. He had already confirmed Samantha’s text saying she had just parked. He wanted to be looking up and alert when she saw him.
He twisted a napkin between his fingers. The cream cheese from the bagel he bought at Noah’s had long been since wiped clean, but at least it gave him something to do. Normally he would have preferred Peet’s, but his phone told him it was at the other end of the block. That is, across the street from the café they were going to. He didn’t need to be seen skulking around the date spot and then recognized during introductions as the person eating the huge muffin from before.
At least the bagel was filling. He had no idea who was going to pay for the date and didn’t want to get something expensive either way. The menu he’d looked up online offered plenty of options for that. He hoped he could get away with ordering something small.
Samantha emerged from the underground structure and shaded her eyes even though she was wearing sunglasses. She flipped them up and rushed over to hug him.
“Hi Dominic!” she said as she embraced him and planted a kiss on his temple. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Samantha’s kisses as much as he loved them. He hadn’t yet kissed her back, but that might change soon.
“You wore the shirt I told you to,” Samantha noticed and stood back to admire it, pinching the fabric on one sleeve. It was only the second time he had worn it. Third time if you counted the shopping trip the two of them went on months ago when he bought it. It was a woman’s shirt, or what would have been a woman’s shirt. Dominic could honestly say it wasn’t a blouse, but it definitely fit his figure in a way his old shirts didn’t. It looked good. It looked good on him. Dominic still wasn’t used to being attractive. He avoided accentuating this fact most of the time but if there was ever a day to do it it would be today.
“Yeah, you were right; it’s a nice one.”
“Of course it is. I always tell you you should wear it more. So did you take an Uber here or something?”
“No, just the bus.”
“The bus? You took the bus all the way here? How long did that take you?”
“An hour. Well, less than an hour and a half at least.”
She sighed. “Dominic, that’s ridiculous.”
“No seriously, it’s just one transfer. You take bus 180 to Hollywood and-”
“If it’s a money thing you could have just asked me for a ride,” she said.
It wasn’t entirely a money thing.
“That’s way out of the way for you,” he said, “Besides, I didn’t want them to know we spent the whole ride over here together. I don’t want them to think we’re in a relationship already.”
Samantha lowered her shoulders.
“Dominic, we already have a relationship. We’ve been friends for, what, almost a year?”
“Yeah, around that,” he admitted.
“And we’ve been getting close these last months, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So: we’re in a relationship that we want to take to the next level.”
It was a statement rather than a question this time.
“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous and don’t want to be presumptuous or whatever.”
“Don’t stress out about it, okay?” she said and rubbed his shoulder, “They’re going to love you.”
Dominic nodded and let her guide him down the sidewalk. After crossing the street they reached the café she’d texted him about earlier that week.
He knew what they all looked like in that way you know what people look like from blurry pictures online, but he didn’t allow himself to pick them out. Samantha took care of that for him.
She raised her hand to flag down the trio that were all sitting on the same side of a table outside. They waved the two to the bench opposite them.
“Hi everyone, this is Dominic. Dominic, these are my partners.”
The closest one extended his hand.
“Alan, he, nice to meet you.”
It was the firmest grip Dominic would receive all day. He moved on to the next person.
“Marlon, he. Or she, actually. I’m trying it out for now.”
“Hess, just Hess,” the third said and shook, “They.”
Samantha had already taken her seat so Dominic went to sit next to her. Think of something to say, he commanded himself, don’t sit without starting some kind of conversation.
“It’s mostly just French,” Alan said.
“Oh, okay. At first I thought it might be all waffles or something before I realized that would be dumb.”
“There actually are waffles,” Hess said, “They’re good if you don’t mind being predictable.”
He already knew the café had them and had noticed they were one of the cheaper options. He decided to look elsewhere.
Everyone settled into their seats. After a beat Hess clasped their hands together and set their elbows on the table.
“So Dominic, what’s your biggest flaw and where do you see yourself in five years?”
Everyone laughed, Alan a little louder than everyone else.
“Yes Dominic,” he added, “What skills will you be brining to our harem?”
Hess groaned. “Alan, please stop calling it a harem.”
“Yeah man, it’s not a great term,” Marlon said.
“Don’t blame me, blame everybody else for calling it that. Besides, I’m just honoring all those ancient women who found a way-”
“We’re not having the harem conversation again, okay?” Samantha insisted. Alan retreated and looked down at his menu.
The waiter came by and collected their orders. Dominic ordered the pancakes. They were among the smallest and cheapest thing that amounted to an actual entrée. Everyone else ordered more expensive food. They all got drinks too.
“That’s the fourth time in a row you’ve gotten salmon,” Hess noticed.
“I’m getting into salmon, I dunno,” Marlon said, “I always thought it looked gross growing up but I finally tried it and it’s great.”
Dominic made a couple calculations before deciding it was worth opening his mouth.
“You wouldn’t have happened to be color blind, would you?”
“Oh yeah, I totally was” Marlon responded, “Were you?”