who looked like an Iowa farm girl, moon-faced and innocuous looking. I think her name was Brenda, but I’d barely noticed her up till now. She looked like she could hold her own in a fight though.
We each continued to pick recruits until there were three teams of eight people each. Then we glanced back at Stone, only Monroe arching her brow at him in a silent bring-it-on taunt.
The quick twist to Stone’s lips told me he noted her dare and would have no problem meeting it.
I didn’t groan but wanted to.
Within minutes we were outside. The fresh air helped me snap to attention, but unless we kept moving we were going to chill quickly. This wasn’t Idaho snow weather but it was damp and cool.
“First game is the human knot,” Stone announced, earning some frowns from a few people. I had no idea what he was talking about. Living on a farm we didn’t need to practice team building. Either we worked together or we didn’t, and if we didn’t our dad would take us to the woodshed and give us a few facts of life. Not something you wanted to happen more than once. So no fancy weekend corporate retreats for me.
Stone began to bark orders. “Each team form a circle. Shoulder to shoulder.”
Once we did he continued, “Each team member reach directly across your circle with your left hand to take the hand of the person standing across the circle.”
That was a little harder for one of our team members, who was either dyslexic or didn’t like holding hands with another woman. I gave her a get real look and she snapped to, with a frown that I noted and put away for later. Just because a person had issues didn’t mean they couldn’t play well in the sandbox. But I figured this whole exercise was to bring some of those issues to the fore, to be dealt with by Stone or the eventual team leaders.
Not the role I wanted. My plan was to get into this agency, keep my head low, and get out after twelve months still alive. Simple plans were often the best kind. No losing sight of the ultimate objective. Freedom. You couldn’t gain freedom if you risked your neck to prove you were better, bigger, or worth more attention. Or if you were dead.
Since Chiquita’s group took a little longer than the rest of us to get the first phase completed Stone’s tone was brusquer as he snapped out the next directions. “Now, each player does the same movement with his right hand, grasping the hand of the same player across the circle.”
The action sounded easier than it was. The circles were small, tight, and weaving eight hands in and out between the already joined hands made most of us twist and bend to make sure everyone had the opposite person’s right and left hand held tight.
Stone’s smile warned me the next part wasn’t going to be easy.
“Now untie yourselves. Without releasing any hands,” he said, stepping back and folding his arms. “Take all the time you need. You have fifteen minutes.”
Masochist.
First thing that happened was the sound volume increased as twenty-four women started talking at once.
“Quiet,” I snapped, knowing eight people pulling in separate directions added to eight people voicing opinions was not going to get us anywhere in fifteen minutes. “If you have a solution, one at a time I want to hear it.” I earned a few frowns, which I let bounce off me. “Kelly, you start.”
It was clear she didn’t like to be put on the spot, or have attention brought on her as she paled and shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t have any solution.”
“Anyone else?” I asked.
Dyslexic lady spoke up. “I have an idea.” She started to pull her right hand away, but thankfully Kelly was the one across from her and held on tight.
“Can’t let go,” Kelly said, her eyes narrowing.
“She’s right.” I made sure my gaze touched on everyone until I returned to Dyslexic. “Any ideas that start with our hands remaining clasped just as they are?”
“That’s impossible,” Dyslexic huffed. “And
We each continued to pick recruits until there were three teams of eight people each. Then we glanced back at Stone, only Monroe arching her brow at him in a silent bring-it-on taunt.
The quick twist to Stone’s lips told me he noted her dare and would have no problem meeting it.
I didn’t groan but wanted to.
Within minutes we were outside. The fresh air helped me snap to attention, but unless we kept moving we were going to chill quickly. This wasn’t Idaho snow weather but it was damp and cool.
“First game is the human knot,” Stone announced, earning some frowns from a few people. I had no idea what he was talking about. Living on a farm we didn’t need to practice team building. Either we worked together or we didn’t, and if we didn’t our dad would take us to the woodshed and give us a few facts of life. Not something you wanted to happen more than once. So no fancy weekend corporate retreats for me.
Stone began to bark orders. “Each team form a circle. Shoulder to shoulder.”
Once we did he continued, “Each team member reach directly across your circle with your left hand to take the hand of the person standing across the circle.”
That was a little harder for one of our team members, who was either dyslexic or didn’t like holding hands with another woman. I gave her a get real look and she snapped to, with a frown that I noted and put away for later. Just because a person had issues didn’t mean they couldn’t play well in the sandbox. But I figured this whole exercise was to bring some of those issues to the fore, to be dealt with by Stone or the eventual team leaders.
Not the role I wanted. My plan was to get into this agency, keep my head low, and get out after twelve months still alive. Simple plans were often the best kind. No losing sight of the ultimate objective. Freedom. You couldn’t gain freedom if you risked your neck to prove you were better, bigger, or worth more attention. Or if you were dead.
Since Chiquita’s group took a little longer than the rest of us to get the first phase completed Stone’s tone was brusquer as he snapped out the next directions. “Now, each player does the same movement with his right hand, grasping the hand of the same player across the circle.”
The action sounded easier than it was. The circles were small, tight, and weaving eight hands in and out between the already joined hands made most of us twist and bend to make sure everyone had the opposite person’s right and left hand held tight.
Stone’s smile warned me the next part wasn’t going to be easy.
“Now untie yourselves. Without releasing any hands,” he said, stepping back and folding his arms. “Take all the time you need. You have fifteen minutes.”
Masochist.
First thing that happened was the sound volume increased as twenty-four women started talking at once.
“Quiet,” I snapped, knowing eight people pulling in separate directions added to eight people voicing opinions was not going to get us anywhere in fifteen minutes. “If you have a solution, one at a time I want to hear it.” I earned a few frowns, which I let bounce off me. “Kelly, you start.”
It was clear she didn’t like to be put on the spot, or have attention brought on her as she paled and shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t have any solution.”
“Anyone else?” I asked.
Dyslexic lady spoke up. “I have an idea.” She started to pull her right hand away, but thankfully Kelly was the one across from her and held on tight.
“Can’t let go,” Kelly said, her eyes narrowing.
“She’s right.” I made sure my gaze touched on everyone until I returned to Dyslexic. “Any ideas that start with our hands remaining clasped just as they are?”
“That’s impossible,” Dyslexic huffed. “And
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