Corporate Man is called in to investigate reports of vile, unethical business practices at Great American Business Company. What he finds there just might destroy him (except we all know the ending to The Tragic Death of Corporate Man so it should be fairly obvious that it can't really destroy him, though it can come close).

Enslaved by the Bonus Whores is an all new Corporate Man Adventure Serial. Chapters will post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

After nearly a decade of imprisonment, Corporate Man returns to find the economy in ruins and his deadliest enemies in control of all but a fraction of society's wealth. He embarks upon a quest to set right the wrongs of the business world; a task that will ultimately destroy him.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Chapter 10

Dale arrived at the hospital in a good mood.  This job felt important and he hoped there would be a substantial bonus in it.  Maybe enough to buy a guitar or some really nice bongo drums. 
He opened the door of the designated annex and walked toward the counter.  A woman in starched, white linens perched on the opposite side; a sour look on her face.
“Please state you business,” the woman said from behind a panel of Plexiglas.
“I’m here to see a patient,” Dale said.
“Which one?”
“The Bull.”
“Please refrain from using nicknames.”
The woman scowled.  “Name?”
“There’s nothing there?” Dale asked.  “The Bull?  No mention?”
There was a long pause in which she simply glared at Dale, her head cocked ever so slightly to one side.  Then she resumed whatever task had occupied her prior to Dale’s arrival.
“Oh.  I know this.  Oh god.  Shit.”
“Please refrain from the use of blasphemies and obscenities.”  She glanced up from her work.   “Or obscene blasphemies.”
“Right.  Sorry.”  Dale tapped his foot and leaned his head back, hoping that him memory would jar.
“Loitering is also frowned upon.”
“Hold on.  It will come to me.”
“Sir, I–”
“Smith.  Mr. Smith.”
Her eyes narrowed.
An obnoxious alarm blared and the locking mechanism on the door chunked open.
“Please report to desk three.  Have your credentials ready and in order.”
Dale strolled through the door, smirking.  He considered asking the woman what credentials he might need, but he winked at her instead, figuring he would deal with the paperwork when he got the desk three.
He would end up visiting four departments, a total of seven desks, and talk/argue/debate/yell/plead with nineteen different hospital employees while filling out ten forms, making six phone calls, requesting two facsimile documents, and providing his three forms of identification eight times in order to obtain three pages of credentials deemed necessary to enter the wing of the annex building where Mr. Smith was being held.
To say that Dale was unhappy when he entered the annex would be like saying the United States owed China a couple of bucks.  He was very much looking forward to breaking this deal.