Preexisting Condition
By Charles Hertz
CAST OF CHARACTERS
JOCELYN Jocelyn Sheavis, age 35. Talent Acquisition professional, R&W Quanti-Systems.
LYDIA Lydia Tawellent, age 25, but looks even younger. Job applicant.
SUIT Corporate Security Executive, age 45. Wearing business suit.
SETTING
The local exurban business offices of R&W Quanti-Systems.
TIME
The present.
NOTES
A slash ( / ) indicates where, in interrupted dialogue, the next character’s speech begins.
Black box and minimal set productions should freely make use of simple cubes and mime as suggestions of the physical set and action described herein.
At RISE: (From outdoors, closing her umbrella, JOCELYN uses a proximity card-swipe to unlock her office entrance—and rushes through to get in out of the weather, the door not closing behind her. She carries a bag of takeout lunch. She is dressed business-casually.
Behind and unseen to JOCELYN, holding a file folder above her own head against the rain, LYDIA steps up quickly and moves forward through the open door into the office. (Standard-issue corporate desk-table-chairs-laptop or suggestions thereof.) LYDIA is dressed in business attire.
LYDIA sweeps the office door closed before JOCELYN has had a chance to turn around.
Alarmed for just a moment at seeing that LYDIA has tailgated through the lock, the senior business professional then quickly puts her training and authority persona to work.)
JOCELYN
(physically blocking and pointing)
Excuse me. Sorry, right back out, please — not a public entrance.
LYDIA
This is Recruiting and HR, right?
JOCELYN
(nodding)
But you want the main entrance: around the corner, under the awning, to the front lobby.
LYDIA
But it’s HR / that I need to —
JOCELYN
Of course, but all candidates check / in at reception and –
LYDIA
But you’re Jocelyn Sheavis. Aren’t you? From your LinkedIn picture, anyway. You’re who I need to see.
JOCELYN
(nodding; firmly; protocol; rote)
The process is the process, and I am all about the process. No deviation from it even if I could, and I can’t. They’ll phone me from reception, once they register your appointment.
(then realizing)
Except: I don’t have any appointments this afternoon …
LYDIA
I only need a minute. You handled my application. And all of my phone screens.
JOCELYN
Sure, but —
LYDIA
FIVE separate phone screens. Including the hiring manager, hiring Director, Team Lead, and peers. I’m Lydia Tawellent. I got …
(a breath; steeling herself)
I got your email. This morning.
JOCELYN
(cautious)
Lydia. I see.
(looking around; nobody in office)
Lydia. Sure. Listen, Lydia, I’m really sorry it didn’t go through. But my email said / all there was to —
LYDIA
One minute. Five minutes, tops. Please. You handled my application for almost two and half months. I only need another five minutes of your time.
(Reluctantly, JOCELYN nods OK. She beckons LYDIA toward her desk and chairs.)
JOCELYN
Hey, look, Lydia, you’re a great prospect and were a very strong candidate.
LYDIA
I thought I had it. Every one of the five phone screens went well. I got the kind of feedback, like, you read about.
JOCELYN
I’m glad you feel that way. We do try to let everyone know, as / the process unfolds, just where —
LYDIA
You did, you did, that part was all fine. Nothing but rainbows for two and a half months. And then, after all that, I get from you a “Dear Lydia” email? That says practically nothing, but means just “no”? No, no, and more no? Why? What’s wrong?
JOCELYN
I know it’s disappointing. I do. Believe me, I’ve been there. When I was your age, just breaking in, it’s a challenge. But our loss is / going to be someone else’s —
LYDIA
What’s wrong? Just tell me straight, and whatever it is I’ll fix it. Remedy it. Learn it. Fill the gap. Make it whatever you want. You will literally be getting the best and most loyal employee you have ever hired.
JOCELYN
No, no, Lydia, look, we’re hardly the end of the line for you. You’ve got everything in front of you! And not just with big software platforms like us. Your statistical skills alone will open plenty of doors for you … someplace.
LYDIA
I don’t have time! To start the whole process over with some other place!
JOCELYN
Sure you do.
LYDIA
And go through the whole ridiculous, overblown, drawn out, painstaking micro-examination.
JOCELYN
Now hold on, you knew the procedure in advance. That’s right up front / in all of our initial —
LYDIA
Qualifications fit: check! Corporate-cultural fit: check! Psychological, attitudinal alignment: check! Drug test: check! It’s like you’re interviewing me to have my finger on the button in a missile silo somewhere!
JOCELYN
I think you want to STOP TALKING, now, / before you dig —
LYDIA
Instead of entry-level, back-office number crunching. My god, all of your branding and positioning and customer facing … spiel is about boldness and intrepidness and decisiveness. But you can’t roll the dice on a twenty-five year-old breaking in?
JOCELYN
It’s a best-fit thing. Really, for every position, we apply the same protocol. Think of it like a grading rubric. You were almost right there, but you got just edged out.
LYDIA
(a leap)
Listen, listen: whatever you’re thinking of offering as a starting salary, I’ll do it for less. Significantly less, a genuine savings. A bargain! And you’ll see, I’ll do it BETTER. For less money! Just to start, OK? And then you’ll see, you’ll know, you’ll see.
(JOCELYN slowly, authoritatively stands at the desk. Her professional demeanor dominates. LYDIA watches, big-eyed, and gulps slightly in trepidation at the minor change in position.)
JOCELYN
Here’s the thing. We don’t do that. Play those kind of games in our hiring. What you’re proposing … it’s so unnecessarily desperate. You’re selling yourself way too short.
LYDIA
I am out of time!
JOCELYN
You’re twenty-five! You have all the time in the world.
LYDIA
I’m turning twenty-six! In a couple of weeks!
(a beat)
I fall off my mom’s health insurance at twenty-six. And I’ll NEVER be able to just buy my own! I NEED THIS JOB!
(A beat. LYDIA’s head drops, abashed in the wake of her blurted admission. JOCELYN understands fully now, or believes she does, and moves to perch on LYDIA’s side of the desk.)
JOCELYN
(HR pro, polished)
I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what you’ll be able to get. In the public insurance market. I’m pretty familiar with those rules and / offerings, and from what —
LYDIA
Not as familiar as me — because I’ve pored over every syllable of them for a solid year, now. And I KNOW that employer-based group insurance is my only … is just … it’s what I need.
JOCELYN
And why is that?
LYDIA
(shrugs; failing at nonchalance)
The prescription drug coverage. There’s a … shortfall. Corporate medical insurance is definitely the way I need to go. That’s just a co-pay for me, you know? Much lower cost.
JOCELYN
Oh, but you won’t have to cover the gap for very long!
LYDIA
I can’t cover it at all.
JOCELYN
I’ll bet your family would help — your mom, or … / Have you asked —
LYDIA
Nobody could cover it. It’s forty thousand.
JOCELYN
A year? Wow, no wonder. Well, but / maybe if you split —
LYDIA
A MONTH. Not year.
(head-shake)
My medicine costs forty thousand dollars per month.
(gallows chuckle)
And that’s the generic.
JOCELYN
But that’s …
LYDIA
Don’t tell me, I know. I don’t even need to be a statistician for that one. Plain old arithmetic does the trick: just shy of a half million bucks a year.
(a beat)
I’m a little pricey to, um … to keep around. It’s an autosomal recessive genetics issue. Born this way, it seems.
(A beat. LYDIA’s eyes reach for JOCELYN’s. JOCELYN’s eyes steal a look to the door. Then steal another to her wristwatch. JOCELYN stands again, and takes up a neutral position.)
LYDIA (CONT’D)
The condition is pretty rare. “Woodruff’s Affliction” — Google it, sometime. Affects only one in a hundred thousand lucky ducks like myself. So it’s hard for anybody to profit from treating it. Unless, that is, they price gouge.
JOCELYN
You’re right, I don’t know of it, I’ll search it sometime… And how long is the treatment, did you say?
LYDIA
I didn’t say. I think I left that little detail out. It’s a real kicker — kind of the icing on the cupcake. The treatment is … well, it’s lifelong.
JOCELYN
Lifelong.
LYDIA
I take the meds, I live. I stop taking them, countdown, in months, to multiple organ failure.
(A beat. JOCELYN makes her way back around her desk. She taps away onto her laptop keys, pulling up the Internet’s resources about Woodruff’s Affliction. She skims the material rapidly, nodding with pursed lips as it confirms Lydia’s summary.
JOCELYN looks up from her screen to LYDIA. LYDIA waits as though a businesslike demeanor were still the order of the day here.)
JOCELYN
I’ll tell you, there is just no end to what I learn, here, doing this — about people. You know? That is quite a circumstance you’ve overcome. I’m not surprised: you seem like a remarkable young woman. So capable.
LYDIA
And that’s just me sitting here talking. You should see me when I’m actually working.
JOCELYN
This, this … Woodruff’s Affliction picked on the wrong person, in you! Didn’t it?
LYDIA
I sure like to think so.
JOCELYN
Of course it did! Which is why I know you’ll understand perfectly, now, what I have to tell you.
LYDIA
About?
JOCELYN
About requisitions.
(LYDIA slumps back in her seat.)
JOCELYN (CONT’D)
You see, the position that you applied for was based on a process artifact, here, that we call a requisition.
And each requisition is entirely unique. And each has a current status. And this one’s status is “FILLED.”
LYDIA
I get that, I really do. But I’m here to convince you. Of my determination, sure — but also of my competence. Of my poise. Of my capability. And to ask that we factor that into the next requisition.
JOCELYN
Well, the thing / about requisitions is that —
LYDIA
A new requisition.
JOCELYN
They’re not quite so easy / to come by as the —
LYDIA
I can save you and all those screeners and interviewers all that extra time! They’ve already vetted me! And poof – I’m here! Ready and willing!
(JOCELYN stands at her desk and taps at her phone as she continues engaging LYDIA.)
JOCELYN
So: a new requisition … That’s a really nicely disruptive thought. We value disruptive ideation here, you know.
LYDIA
I do, I do know that. It’s one of the “core values” your recruitment / material emphasizes —
(The phone call that JOCELYN dialed suddenly connects and commands her attention.)
JOCELYN
(to Lydia)
Just a sec …
(into phone)
Yes: stateside, please. Omaha … Jocelyn Sheavis, pod G‑HR7a.
(into phone)
That’s correct… Great, thanks.
(She clicks off.)
JOCELYN (CONT’D)
OK, sorry. So where were we? At disruptive ideation, wasn’t it …?
LYDIA
Yes! But, just to be clear, the new requisition would be for something local, still — wouldn’t it?
(JOCELYN stares OFF through the window beside the door.)
JOCELYN
Uh … yes. Yes. We encode it as no relocation required.
LYDIA
Perfect. So, is there anything else I need to do, or provide, for —
(But JOCELYN sees what she’s looking for out the window and swiftly makes for the exterior door, which she swings open. SUIT ENTERS, swiftly takes up position beside LYDIA.)
SUIT
Thank you, Miss — if you could just please come with me. Now, please.
(LYDIA rises, her jaw dropping in mortification and disbelief. Nobody touches her. Nobody frog-marches her out. Nobody says anything else. LYDIA steps out of the office with SUIT.
JOCELYN collapses into her seat. Her PHONE RINGS. She taps and scrolls absently with one hand around her laptop as she speaks into the phone.)
JOCELYN
(into phone)
Jocelyn Sheavis … Yes, just now … I don’t know, tailgating, I think.
I never saw her until she was already –
(beat; nodding)
You got it … Yep … The statistician req.
(beat)
I know! And the funny thing is, she was our second choice. We nearly hired her.
(beat)
Exactly … I dunno — she just gave off a vibe, kind of … just very entitled. Not even to mention she would have been no end of hell for our insurers …
(clarifying)
No, never mind, strike that. That’s HIPAA confidential … No, of course it’s not written down anywhere … Yes, we’re good. No, we’re good. We’re good. We’re business as usual.
(Blackout. End of play.)
CHARLES HERTZ is a playwright and screenwriter who lives and works in the New Hampshire Seacoast region. He is author of numerous short stage plays, two feature-length screenplays, and several short screenplays. His short plays have been part of four Boston Theater Marathons, three Newburyport Firehouse New Works Festivals, Short Play Friday at The Quarantine Series, ArlingTEN Festival, Cannon Theatre 10-Minute Play Festival, CCA Playground Shorts, Warner International Playwrights Festival, and the Hive Collaborative Ten Show. His short and feature screenplays have earned laurels at film festivals nationwide. He is an active participant in several cooperatives of writers and readers.
This story originally appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 21.
Photo by Gary Yost