The Tragic Death of Corporate
Man
a hero for
capitalism;
champion of the
working class
by Tom Landaluce
Section 2:
On the Trail of
Greedy Butt Puppets
2.a.i
Best week we
ever had, Ma’am,” Aaron, the manager, said.
A yellow moustache dominated a large area of his head compensating quite
well for the thin, sickly wisps on top.
“We blew through more product than any of us could have projected. Our guys really put in the extra time and
effort to ensure that all the customers were serviced in a timely manner. I’ve calculated the managerial bonuses. I think you’ll be quite pleased.”
The bosswoman’s
nostrils flared and her upper lip quivered as through she detected a foul
odor. Her face had no laugh lines. Oh, there wrinkles, and other indicators of
age, but none of them were related to anything jovial whatsoever.
“Is that so?”
she said.
Aaron
tensed. He detected a tone in her voice,
the one that meant his day was about to become less than enjoyable. She used this tone with him a few times a
week and he never seemed to get used to it.
Sweat matted thin strands of hair to his scalp.
“It’s the
highest bonus we’ve ever received,” he said.
She snatched
the clipboard out of Aaron’s clammy hands and glanced at the week’s
numbers. After thumbing through a couple
of pages she sharply tapped a section.
“What’s your
explanation for that?” she said.
“The
overtime? We did nearly three times our
normal output. I called in everyone I
could and we had to work extra shifts to get all the product out.”
“Overtime hours
count against my bonus, directly affecting my salary. I lost money because your lazy workers
couldn’t get their jobs done on time,” the bosswoman said. When she spoke it was as though her mouth
moved independently from the rest of her face.
“Those workers
scored you the biggest bonus you’ve ever received.”
The bosswoman
titled her head like an older sibling suffering the irritation of explaining
herself to a younger brother.
“They cost me
money. Running up a bunch of overtime to
line their pockets with cash that was rightfully mine.”
“I can’t
believe–”
The bosswoman
held up her hand and silenced Aaron. She
then reached into her pocket and removed a vibrating cell phone.
“Yes,” she
said. After a short pause, she
continued, “Just the usual incompetence…
No, no. I lost interest in the
conversation about fifteen seconds ago.”
The bosswoman
turned her back on Aaron and walked away.
“This is most
troublesome news… No, he’s obviously a screw up, just like his
grandfather… Really? Who is she?
A secretary? And she works for
us, you say? Uggh. Employees.
I yearn for the day when it is economically feasible to replace them all
with automatons… Yes, put out the word.
Let’s go after these two with everything we’ve got.”