โWe want to level the playing field,โ said George Scootch, CEO, at the inaugural meeting of the Committee for Mandatory Fun. The executives present nodded agreement as George broke out the libations and snacks. He wasnโt much of a stickler for his own zero-tolerance policy on alcohol, but having one he could break and enforce against anyone who dared to challenge him gave him pleasure.
โMm. Level playing field. What does that look like, George?โ asked Lynn, his Chief of Staff and long-suffering agelast, always tasked with secretarial or note-taking duties. Lighten up, Lynn. Itโs because you have the best hand-writing, of course. Not because youโre a woman. Every time George said that, he winked at her. She was beginning to wonder if he had a nervous twitch.
George pondered the problem. Not everyone at AltparaCorp had courtside seats to the NBA basketball games. A few of his pet managers had attended respectable schools on athletic scholarships; Joey had even been a point-guard, if memory served. But that was decades ago. On the upper end of middle age, most couldnโt find the hoop without a seeing-eye parrot to light the way in neon-colored plumage. And if one twisted a knee, pivoting too fast on the hardwood, AltparaCorp couldnโt afford the hit to its self-funded insurance program.
That said, pride would not let George accept anything that might allow the junior execs to show up the senior leadership. They would have to invent a new game, with new rules: one that stacked the odds in their favor.
โHow about rugby?โ suggested Neil. Neil was decidedly on the low-end of middle-age. George raised an eyebrow, contemplating his self-appointed โCzar of Marketing.โ He was fairly sure Neil wouldnโt know rugby from a nice, civilized game of soccer, and was tempted to watch this idea play out. Maybe on the parking lot. Then again, the corporate games were co-ed. Maybe Neil understood the physicality of the sport, after all.
โYoung people are bored with rugby,โ muttered Liz, rolling her eyes. โHow about golf?โ
โAlways with the sarcasm, Liz?โ said Neil, pounding a fist on the table. โIsnโt golf a bit too violent for you?โ He narrowed his eyes, his lips curling in a slow gotcha-grin as he savored the memory of Liz somehow managing to lose her grip on the driver at the sixteenth hole, four years ago. It had flipped into the air, slow-motion falling back to earth as stunned and horrified onlookers cringed. The driver struck Liz in the head, leaving her with a permanent, bald ridge where a titanium plate fashioned from the murderous club now held together pieces of her cranium.
โHow about the traditional game of beer pong?โ offered Lynn.
โAre you serious?โ After the initial shock and outrage, the other members of the committee warmed to the idea. It had some merit. Most could drink their juniors under the table without slurring a word.
โWith one small twist, of course,โ said Lynn, leaning back in her reclining conference chair with her fingers interlaced over her chest, โAfter a couple of rounds of beer pong, you hit the tennis court out back and see who can tell the most daring tales of derring-do while dribbling a ping pong ball around the clay. First to sweat a meldrop loses.โ
The men looked at Lynn with newfound respect. โVicious, man,โ murmured Neil, nodding. And just like that, Lynn was one of the boys.
George poured Lynn two fingers of 30-year-old McCallan. One corner of Lynnโs lips curled upward, slyly, as she tossed back Scootchโs โspensive sippinโ Scotch like it was swamp water. โWelcome to the team,โ he said.
His newfound admiration would turn to terror, soon enough. Lynn knew that the pot-valiant Scootch and his cronies would brag about their illicit boardroom exploits, regaling the entire company and AltparaCorpโs visiting shareholders with tales that were sure to hold up on, and in, court.
Lynnโs game of choice was Chess.
Todayโs story brought to you by Creative Copy Challenge #676 | Writing Prompts โ Creative Copy Challenge (wordpress.com) and the words Athletic, Basketball, Courtside, Meldrop, Dribble, Agelast, Pot-valor, Hardwood, Hoop, and Point-guard.

I enjoyed this vignette. You made certain to avoid the easy path with those words.
Cheers,
Mitch
Exactly what I try to do, and why I love the lists that don’t lead in a particular direction.