Training Scenario
Peter Wilksy sat at his desk and tried to focus on the report in front of him. His third cup of coffee was doing little to help him stay awake, and he found his mind drifting again to Jenny, who sat on the other side of the cubicle cluster and two spots to the left of him. She wasn’t the hottest person on their floor, but she was the nearest hot person to him, and he found himself wondering what she was doing at that moment. Maybe frowning at the screen, bent forward slightly, pouring over the rows and columns of an Excel spreadsheet. He allowed himself to daydream a little while longer, then promised himself that he would try to talk to her soon — maybe the next time she got up to get coffee he could go too — and then Peter got back to work.
Jenny had sworn off coffee two weeks ago, and was blearily drafting emails through the quiet, lazy afternoon hours. Her productivity was dipping, according to HR’s tracking software, but their annual review was months away, and she was resolved to stay away from the stuff until absolutely necessary. She had no idea Peter was hoping to get an excuse to get closer to her, or that she had accidentally denied him the opportunity. She was, however, leaning forward slightly. Jenny had bad posture at work.
Jenny stood, sighing, and for an instant Peter perked up, hearing her move. But she headed for the hallway, not the kitchen, and he cursed his ill luck before turning back to his work. She strolled out of the wing of the office she worked in and turned toward the restrooms, yawning at the elevators as she passed. She went into the women’s room and, finding it empty, turned on the sink faucet to wash her face. She planned on spending a few minutes away from watching managers to check Instagram, catch up on the news, and possibly call her sister. But, while she was splashing cold water onto her forehead, she heard her phone buzz. She turned off the faucet, pulled three paper towels out of the dispenser, and dried her face. The phone buzzed again. She pulled out two more towels to dry her hands, then wadded up all five and threw them in the trash can. That done, she finally dug her phone out of her purse, and checked the message she had just received.
WARNING: There is an intruder in the building. Tall, male, wearing blue jeans and no shirt, wielding a machete. All employees are to follow shelter-in-place protocols, and report via the emergency security hotline immediately if you see him.
*This is a drill, not a live event. If you were not notified of this drill beforehand please discuss with your immediate supervisor*
Run, Hide, or Fight!
Jenny bit her lip. She’d known the drill was coming this week, but not the exact time. Unfortunately, this meant she wouldn’t get any more work done today. Fortunately, this meant she couldn’t get any more work done today. Her manager would lose her productivity dip among the crowd, chalk it up to a missed afternoon of work. She smiled to herself, and turned to use the toilet before going back to the office.
As she exited the bathroom, she looked around cautiously for signs of the security team, but she didn’t see anyone. She was caught totally by surprise when, as she walked past the elevators again, a hand wrapped around her mouth, a strong arm grabbed hers behind her, and she found herself being held tight against the warm body of a towering man. She struggled to get free, but couldn’t escape the firm grasp of her assailant.
“Shhhh, it’s alright. I’m Philip, from security. I’m the actor for today’s drill,” a voice whispered in her ear. He didn’t release his grip on her arms, but he did release her mouth.
Jenny gasped in air, and craned her neck around to look at the man holding her. He was a good six inches taller than her at least, and obviously muscled — obvious because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The machete was slung on his belt, and she could see part of a snake tattoo winding around his shoulder toward his back. For a second she forgot about work. “What do you want?” she asked, between gulping breaths.
Philip grinned, although she had trouble seeing his face due to the awkward angle. “I’m taking you hostage. Your team needs to know how to respond if one of their own are captured. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, but I am going to make it look realistic,” he said, and with that he pulled the machete out of his belt and held it under her neck.
Jenny’s mind raced. The blade was no doubt dull, and it wasn’t actually touching her throat, but she still panic all the same. Philip still held her close to him, and she could feel him breathing slightly heavier than a normal person — he must have taken the stairs up to the fifth floor. Or maybe he was feeling the same adrenaline rush she was. It must be very exciting to take someone hostage. She decided then that she didn’t mind playing along for the sake of the drill.
“So what are you going to do with me?” she asked.
“Just be quiet,” Philip said in a faux-gruff voice, “and do what I tell you to. Follow my instructions and you won’t get hurt.”
She expected him to let her go until they got to the offices, but apparently he took his role very seriously, and he kept a tight grip on her all the way down the hall. When they got to the door to her wing of cubicles he stopped, and shifted to wrap his arm around her body instead of holding her arms. She could feel a thin layer of sweat on his body, damping the fabric of her blouse. He must have taken the stairs two at a time. The door to their block was now closed and locked, as was procedure during a security breach. Philip finally released her, only to put his hands on her shoulders and forcefully spin her around to face him.
Looking at him now, she could see that he was a tall man of solid build, the type who took the security team’s “physical presence” to heart. He was obviously a regular at the company gym, with large, hard arms and a six pack visible under his body hair. He had a manic grin, clearly enjoying his role as antagonist in the office building. His eyes were a bright sparkling blue, and they seemed to take in her full measure all at once as he looked her up and down. Jenny was suddenly very conscious of the boring white blouse and gray pencil skirt she wore. She found herself wishing she had worn something more striking, if only so he wouldn’t dismiss her so casually after a single glance.
“Alright, now,” he said, suddenly pulling her tight to his body again and placing the fake machete up near her neck, “beg them to open the door.”
Jenny hesitated. “What will you do if I don’t?”
Philip squeezed her waist until it was almost uncomfortable, and raised the machete another half an inch. “Guess,” he said.
Jenny didn’t need any more prompting. She began banging on the locked door and screaming, “Let me in! Let me in, it’s Jenny, please!”
Someone scrambled behind the door, and a second later it clicked, unlocking. Philip immediately threw Jenny to the side, and she stumbled to the floor. He forced the door open, wielding the machete and screaming bloody murder. Jenny couldn’t tell what was going on inside the room, but by the time she got back to her feet and peered inside, the rest of the office staff were cowering in the corner while Philip pointed an admonishing machete blade at them.
“If this were a real security threat, I could have killed you all by now!” he yelled. “Never open the door during a lockdown, not for anybody.” He pivoted and grabbed Jenny again, although he barely needed to — she immediately resumed their previous position, feeling his body behind her again as he wrapped his strong arm around her waist. “I’m considering you all dead,” he said, “and I’m taking the hostage with me to go finish off the next office. I’d like you all to think about how you failed this drill, and what you could have done better.” With that, he physically lifted Jenny off the ground, and she gave a little shriek as he began to carry her out the door again.
Peter watched the security officer carry Jenny toward the hall and clenched his fists. She was clearly being coerced, even if it was a drill. Peter hated to watch a guy like that terrorize his coworker. He thought about how grateful she would be if he could get her out of having to play a part in this silly charade of a drill. What if he fought off the intruder, rescued her and freed her from his grasp? The perennial slogan of these drills was, after all, “Run, Hide, or Fight!” Why not choose fight? Peter made up his mind, and ran forward.
Jenny barely noticed Peter’s approach — she was too busy thinking about Philip the security officer abducting her from the premises. Her heart beat with a wild rhythm, and she could feel her face flushing red. In one sense it was humiliating to be carried around by a man like a sack of potatoes, but in another sense it was…exciting. So when Philip suddenly stumbled and dropped her to her feet, she felt a momentary flash of disappointment, before she even realized what was going on. Then Peter was on top of the other man, following up his punch with a barrage of blows to the face. Philip, to his credit, blocked most of them, and didn’t seem threatened by the skinny analyst’s attack. Jenny screamed.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Peter shuffled awkwardly. What had seemed like a noble idea in the moment was turning into a fiasco. Philip’s supervisor, the Director of Security, had shown up to check on his team member, and was understandably upset that the man had a shiny purple bruise spreading across half his face. Jenny had not been nearly as grateful as Peter expected, and now he was getting chewed out for attacking a fellow employee.
“The drill procedure always says that fighting is an option,” Peter mumbled.
The director faked a look of disbelief. That it was fake only compounded the insult. “Yes, in an actual live event. Not when you’re going to be fighting a member of my staff!”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “I guess I just got carried away.”
“I need you to, first of all, apologize to my staff member outside, and second of all, prepare to hear more about this when I submit a review to your supervisor.” The director rubbed his forehead. “I should have known this would go too far. Now I’ll have to write up an entire policy around this situation and calm down the execs.”
Peter assumed this was his dismissal, so he went back into the office where everyone else was gathered in a circle around Philip the security officer. He was lying on the floor, his head in Jenny’s lap, as she tenderly held an icepack to his face. She looked at him with an odd expression that Peter couldn’t parse. On an impulse, he spoke to her first.
“Listen, Jenny, I’m really sorry that things got out of hand. I just saw him taking you by force and I…”
Jenny snorted. “You really made a mess of everything, Peter. I can’t believe you attacked a fellow coworker. Honestly, I hope you’re happy.” With that, she focused very deliberately on patting Philip’s face with ice.
Peter grimaced, and looked at the security officer. “I’m sorry, Philip,” he said. “I took the ‘Run, Hide, Fight!’ slogan a little too literally and got carried away.”
Philip flashed him a smile, although he winced at the same time from the pain of pulling on the bruise. “No worries, buddy, you did good. It was an admirable effort to take me out — in a live situation, it might even have worked.”
Peter attempted a laugh, but it came out more as a strangle choke. He stood there for a second, watching Jenny dote over the security officer, then turned, and, with a heavy heart, returned to his desk.
