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.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
They moved across the carpeted runner, almost reverently, making their way along the perimeter. At the end of the walkway was a staircase that would take them up to the second level.
The featured of the executives gradually took on a more porcine appearance. Upturned noses and sweaty, slappy skin. The frequency of obesity and abundance of refuse collecting in office-sized wastebaskets was on the rise as well.
As they neared the stairs a group of portly men hovering around a snack filled table caught Corporate Man’s attention.
“So I drafted a report for all the major banks urging them to charge heavy service fees for cashing checks, even their own checks, from anyone who didn’t maintain an account with their establishment,” said a very generously proportioned man with quivering jowls, extra chins, and a piggish nose.
“Wait. Aren’t banks the place you’re supposed to go to cash your checks?” asked a smaller, but still body-mass-endowed man, his brow glistening with triglycerides.
“What? For Free?” asked the bejowled man. “Next you’ll be telling me that the banks should make change for people without getting some kind of cut.”
“Well of course,” said the small but body-mass-endowed man. “They’re banks. Isn’t that where the expression comes from?”
“You know. What do you think I am? A bank?”
The bejowled man shook his head, scowled fiercely, and said, “They’ve got to pay those tellers that are making all that change and cashing all those checks. Where do you think that money comes from?”
“Doesn’t all that interest they collect on loans pay for all that?”
“Look asshole, that money goes to the executives and the shareholders. What makes you think– Wait… Wait… You’re fucking with me, right?”
The small but body-mass endowed man grinned.
“Oh man. Good one!” said the bejowled man.
The rest of the gathered portly all broke into fits of raucous laughter.
“You know what?” said
“You greedy bastards need a good ass
kicking.” Corporate Man.
He left the carpet and marched over to the table of grease-sweating tycoons. He poked one in the chest, his finger sinking deeper into the swollen flesh than he thought it would.
“Where do you want it?” Corporate Man said.
The bejowled man rubbed at his chest, his face a swollen mix of offense and utter confusion.
“Where do I want what?” he said.
General Apathy set his hand on Corporate Man’s shoulder and said, “The bottles of champagne and the whale blubber hors d'oeuvres. My friend here has been inspired by your… accumulation and wishes to send along his compliments.”
“Oh,” said the bejowled man. “Thanks for the recognition. Just have it brought to the table.”
General Apathy nodded and gently escorted Corporate Man back to the carpet and to the next set of stairs where the rest of the
Union awaited him.
“How gallant,” said General Apathy. “How pointless and futile. I do recommend that you curb your antics and remember where you are. Violent confrontation is nearly non existent on the fifty-second floor and I doubt those on the upper levels will tolerate such an attack. Especially the shareholders on level three. Do we understand one another?”
He looked at
Corporate Man looked away, hissed out a breath, and then inhaled, deep
and slow. Corporate
“Great,” said General Apathy. “Please follow me.”
They ascended the next flight of steps.