Both Jasmine and Sam tensed at the sight of the lichen-coated rope bridge – but for very different reasons.
Jasmine loved teambuilding days. An adrenaline-charged activity followed by a sumptuous lunch was not only a welcome change from the monotony of office life, but it also afforded an opportunity for a “stuff of legend” event. Like the canoe-building fail five years ago when Britney was airlifted to hospital, or last year’s lunch where the boss’s ferret passed out – drunk – after lapping up the contents of the spittoons at the wine-tasting.
Sam loathed teambuilding. Admittedly, this was their first forced bonding session with this company but they’d endured many before and the rope bridge heralded the beginning of an excruciating sequence of arduous and ultimately pointless activities that only Bear Grylls would appreciate.
Jasmine glanced at her colleague. All going well, by day’s end, she would have a date with the new payroll manager. What Jasmine couldn’t have imagined is that, by day’s end, she would have a court date regarding the new payroll manager, rather than a romantic date with them.
Sam glanced at their Fitbit. Heart rate 180 beats per minute. Yep. Crawling – or perhaps slithering – seventy-four metres across a string lattice suspended over a ravine that plunged to within a hair’s breadth of the Earth’s core, would do that. They wouldn’t be surprised to set a new heart rate record within the next minute.
‘Don’t like heights?’ Jasmine asked.
‘I’d rather lick cane toads at high tea with the Devil,’ Sam replied.
Jasmine smiled. ‘We’re a team. That’s what today is all about! We’ll help you cross.’
Ignoring her nauseatingly optimistic colleague, Sam stared into the abyss. ‘The only way I could cross that is in a coffin,’ they muttered.
Jasmine waved to the crew unloading the bus. ‘Guys, did we bring a coffin?’
‘Negative on the coffin, Jasmine,’ someone replied.
Not dissuaded, Jasmine called, ‘Well, what have we got?’
Once the bus had disgorged its contents, Jasmine surveyed the equipment, assessing options. Then, with a click of her fingers, she said, ‘I’ve got it!’
‘Got … what?’ Sam asked, wary.
As Jasmine outlined her plan – utilising a picnic blanket, tiedown straps and a beanie – Sam’s eyes widened until they resembled giant ocean sunfish.
‘I’ll be a pig in a blanket?’
‘You’ll be as snug as a bug in a rug,’ Jasmine said, ‘and we’ll carry you across on our shoulders – just as we’d carry a coffin, since you seemed keen on that.’
As Jasmine trussed her colleague, she imagined herself and Sam toasting with champagne at lunch. Sam acquiesced begrudgingly and, to their credit, made it halfway across before succumbing to terror and pleading for release.
What followed, according to Jasmine, was strong leadership that resulted in a successful bridge crossing. Sam’s interpretation though, was deprivation of liberty.
It would fall to a judge to determine, but Jasmine faced up to three years’ jail. The stuff of legend. More impressive than a failed canoe or an intoxicated ferret.