Harriet Myers considered herself a righteous woman and one who lived a good, Christian life. She regularly attended services at the local Grace Lutheran Church where she often sang in the choir. Harriet maintained erect posture which seemed to reflect her independent disposition and, some suggested, a slightly haughty attitude. She lived alone in a rental apartment in the city which she maintained in immaculate condition. She hadn’t married. Marriage, she thought, was something of a messy arrangement. As she matured and added gray hairs, her life became centered on her apartment, church and, of course, her employment at the Bronson Manufacturing factory. As a secretary in the engineering department, her days were filled with answering telephones and typing on the large carriage Royal typewriter that took up the center of her desk. It was an unusual apparatus with an especially large carriage that allowed Harriet to type on drawings or large documents. She was the only person designated to use the device and she was proud of that special designation.   

           The engineering department where Harriet worked had a drop ceiling over the entire area. On a normal day, there would be several hundred individuals working under that ceiling. Some were at drafting boards, others at desks and a few in cubicles. The ceiling was typical of those found in large commercial spaces. It consisted of panels that measured two-feet by four-feet and which were held in-place by a system of metal frames. Individual panels could readily be removed or replaced as needed. The panels were intended to be absorbent of sound and reflective of light. The material of the panels was light in weight and somewhat brittle. Strength was not a requirement. Above the drop ceiling, electrical wiring and air conditioning ducts extended to all areas of the department. Walkways above the panels provided a means whereby maintenance personnel could access the utilities located there. The ceiling was some eight feet above the drop panels. Accordingly, there was adequate space above the drop panels that allowed personnel to move about freely without stooping.

           The morning of the accident, electrician Bill Waters was working in the space above the drop ceiling. An entire section of light fixtures had failed, and Bill’s supervisor sent Bill to check the wiring up above the drop ceiling. Upon searching, Bill discovered a faulty cable in an electrical panel and proceeded to replace it. First, he had to remove the faulty cable, and that proved difficult. It was stuck in its conduit. Bill pulled on it several times, but it didn’t budge. He had to remove that cable if he were to repair the faulty circuit. When he gave an extra  hard pull, the cable suddenly broke free. At the time, Bill was squatting on a narrow walkway. When the cable came free, he lost his balance, fell backward off the walkway and landed exactly on the center of one of the panels in the drop ceiling. The panel immediately shattered into pieces, and Bill fell through the opening heading toward the spaces below.

           At the instant Bill fell through the ceiling, Harriet Myers was diligently typing a spread sheet on her unusual typewriter. Fortunately for Harriet, Bill did not land on her; he landed on her typewriter. She was horrified at the sight of a man falling from nowhere onto her desk. She instinctively pushed her chair back and stood. Gasping, she stared unbelieving at the scene before her. The sheet on which she had been typing was torn into shreds and the carriage that had held that document was separated from the rest of the machine. Bill, still on his back, exclaimed, “Aw shit” as he glanced up at the hole through which he had fallen. Slowly, he eased himself off Harriet’s desk and onto the floor. As he stood, he held his back but otherwise seemed unhurt. He knew his injuries could have been more serious. When asked by coworkers, Bill said he was ok. He didn’t need a ride anywhere. He wanted to finish repairing the faulty circuit “up there.”

           After a visit to the wash room, Harriet returned, and with shaking hands asked her supervisor if she could go home for the day. She said she felt faint. She was told, “Of course.” One of Harriet’s coworkers offered to take her home, but she said she could drive herself.

           The day after Bill’s accident, Jack Gibbins, a good friend, announced to several people in  the department that there was going to be a special ceremony in the coffee room during the break. When the group gathered later, Jack was standing next to Bill. He reminded all present of his friend’s experience the previous day. He said it had been decided that our man had earned his wings. With that said, Jack produced a set of toy wings that resembled the wings customarily awarded to new fighter pilots. He had borrowed the imitation wings from his son’s room. Turning to his friend, he pinned the wings on Bill’s shirt pocket. All present laughed and applauded. Bill smiled, but said nothing. Harriet was in the room during the ceremony, but neither smiled nor applauded when Bill received his award. 

About the Author:

Joseph E. Fleckenstein, a graduate of Carnegie Mellon University and an electrical engineer, has published over 41 items. The list includes technical papers, online courses, three books, and literary short stories in a variety of online and print magazines. As a lieutenant in the US Army Corp of Engineers he was commander of a platoon of soldiers overseas. He spends part of the year in Maryland and the remainder in Florida. Additional bio particulars are available at his website http://www.WriterJEF.com