Addendum 20

            “No Tess, I haven’t heard from him,” Miss Pension said.

            Tess twirled her fingers in the chord of her phone.  “He asked me to resign today.  Said it was part of some plan he had.  I can’t just quit.  Do you realize what I’d lose if I did that?  Did he mention this plan to you?”

            “No, but like I said, I haven’t heard from him.”

            “Something’s wrong.”

            “You can’t know that, Tess.”

            “I can feel it.  And there’s something wrong with him.  He was… jittery and his eyes, I swear they were dilated or something.”

            “And he was out sick before,” Miss Pension said.  “Corporate Man is never sick.”

            “I need some help out here.  He needs some help.”

            “There’s no one available.”

            “No one?  Don’t you guys have a bunch of members?”

            “Yeah, but the Union is stretched pretty thin right now.  Our last campaign hospitalized a few of our members.  Hang in there, Tess.  I’ll try to think of something.”

Addendum 12

            “Where have you been?” Tess asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

            Corporate Man hadn’t even settled into his chair yet, his computer was still loading programs.  He shrugged.  “I was sick.”

            “You’ve been out of the office for two days.”

            “Yeah.  Would’ve been nice if someone had brought me chicken soup.  Or cleaned up the mess.”

            “Miss Pen–”

            Corporate Man held up a hand to silence her.  He shook his head minutely.  Not here, the gesture implied.  Tess nodded.  “Well, I was worried about you.”

            “We all were,” said the bosslady, appearing suddenly at Tess’s side.  “You never called in.  I was beginning to think you’d abandoned your post.”

“Sorry about that,” said Corporate Man.  “I couldn’t find the number in my day planner and, apparently, our offices aren’t listed in the phone book.  I didn’t look until this morning.  I was too sick to comprehend what was happening to me the last couple of days and ‘calling in’ never actually entered my mind.”

“We’ll let it go this time,” the bosslady said.  Then she glanced coolly at Tess.  “Miss Adams I’m sure Donald appreciates your concern, but he does have a lot to catch up on.  As, I imagine, do you.”

Tess scampered off, eyes cast downward.

The bosslady stepped into Coporate Man’s office and shut the door.  “Don’t worry.  It happens to us all.”

Corporate Man shrugged.

The bosslady tossed a legal-sized envelope on his desk.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Your first bonus,” she said.

“Payday’s not until the end of next week.”

“For them,” the bosslady said, casting a dismissive head gesture toward the outer office.  “We at the executive level like to calculate our bonuses on a more immediate basis.  Instant gratification and all that.  The decision to eliminate Gladys’s position and redistribute all her work has been implemented.  Done.  The fruits of your labor await.  If you have any questions, stop by my office.”

She crept to the door, opened it quickly as though she were trying to catch eavesdroppers on the other side, and slid out of the room.

Corporate Man picked up the envelope.  There was more than a check inside.  It was thick with papers and there was some sort of object in the bottom.  He opened a desk drawer, retrieved a letter opener, and slid it along the top of the envelope, splitting it open revealing an unmistakable shade of green.

Cash.

And quite a bit of it.

He pulled the bills from the package and started counting, though he instinctively knew the exact amount as soon as he saw the stack.  It was mesmerizing.  His fingers tingled as the bills passed from one hand to the other.  He was halfway through the stack when he remembered the object at the bottom of the envelope.  He set the cash on his desk and pulled the envelope open.

Inside was a syringe.

It was cold to the touch; metal and glass.  He picked it up by the cylinder and held it in front of him.  The metal was golden, the glass like crystal.  There was a runny, oily liquid inside.  A translucent but familiar shade of green.

            

Addendum 10

            “Thanks, Tess,” said Miss Pension.  “Just hang in there, okay?”

            “I will.  And tell Corporate Man that I hope he’s feeling better.”

            “Wait  What?”

            “He wasn’t in today.  I assumed he was out on some sort of reconnaissance, using that flu that’s going around the office as cover.”

            “No,” said Miss Pension.  “He’s there to gather intel and infiltrate Great American Business Company.  If he was out of the office today then he’s either sick, or something’s gone wrong.”

Addendum 7

           “Take me through your week, Tess,” Corporate Man (aka Donald Jackson, also known as Corporate Man without the glasses) said.  She was the third employee that he’d sat with today and, like the others, he had his legal pad open, ready to jot down notes.  “Remember, you don’t know me.  In fact, when you talk to the others you should probably express suspicion in regards to my motives.  Gather info from the others and report back to that number I gave you.”

            “So the first thing I do when I get here everyday is…” Tess started in a normal, if slightly louder than usual, voice.  In between her audible-to-the-public sentences she whispered covertly to Corporate Man.  “There are two or three girls were can probably trust, but I haven’t told anyone what’s going on, and I don’t plan to.”

            “That’s good.  And this is the last time we should chance talking like this.  Any information you need to get to me can go through Miss Pension.”

            He spent another forty-five minutes at her desk and then moved on.  From what he could gather, there hadn’t been cuts, exactly.  No one had been laid off or fired.  But there hadn’t been any new positions created either.  With the amount of growth Great American Business Company had experienced in the last five years alone, he figured a minimum of three new positions should have been created in this office alone.

            That night he made the first of his nightly reports to Miss Pension.

            “I need you to arrange something for me,” he said.  “I want to see what happens when someone in the office leaves the company.  I want one of them offered a job that is too good to pass up.  A courier will have all the employee files to you in the morning.  Use them to make a selection.”

            “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Miss Pension said.  “Tess reported in.  Seems like your cubicle visits panicked some and excited others.”

            “That was the intention.”

            “I’ll focus on the panicky ones.  Should be simple to get one of them to abandon ship.”

            Two days later Tess reported that Gladys had stumbled upon a job listing and was tidying up her resume.  The following Monday Gladys announced that she was taking a position with another company.  There were tears and heartfelt moments. 

And cake.  These things always required cake. 

            Thursday morning Donald Jackson received an e-mail from the bosslady.  Subject Line: My Office ASAP.  There was no text in the body of the e-mail.

            Corporate Man smiled.  He sauntered out of his office and walked over to hers ten minutes later.

            “You wanted to see me,” he said poking his head in the office door.

            “Yes, Donald.  I wanted to discuss the Gladys situation with you.”

            Corporate Man sat down.  Other than her desk, a file cabinet, and a couple of chairs, there wasn’t much in there.  No framed photos of tropical locales, no family portraits, no office plant.  There was a door on the back wall.  A closet?  No, probably a private bathroom. 

            “Right.  A shame really.  She was a real asset to the team.  It will be difficult to replace her,” Corporate Man said.

            The bosslady grinned and said, “I agree.  In fact, we probably shouldn’t even try.”

            Corporate Man shrugged and said, “She was kind enough to give us three weeks.  If we hire from within it shouldn’t be a problem.  If we go outside the company, I think we can still manage our workload while we bring the new person up to speed.”

            “Oh?  You think we might be able to… redistribute her work around while find the right person?”

            “Sure.  Not an issue.”

            “How long do you think they could manage?”

            “Well, I’m new here, but I’ve been around the block a few times,” Corporate Man said.  He paused for a moment, and then continued, “If we work these people to capacity, I don’t see why they couldn’t manage indefinitely.”

            There was a flash in the bosslady’s eyes and the grin became a predatory smile.  She blinked a few times and the spark was gone.  After a few steady breaths she said, “Tomorrow’s payday.”

            Corporate Man made no response to this non sequitur.  He knew she was leading into something and so would a man like Donald Jackson.  So he let her come to it in her own time.

            “When you interviewed, when you were hired, were you made aware of the bonus structure?” she finally said.

            Corporate Man nodded his head nonchalantly.  “I was.  Nothing too specific, but I’m familiar with the concept.”

            “Company policy states that you won’t be eligible for bonuses until after a probationary period of three to six months.  The time frame to be determined by upper executives.”

            “I’m fairly confident that I’ll be earning bonuses after three months.”

            “And I would tell you that you are wrong in your assumption,” she said, that gleam returning to her eyes.  Again, Corporate Man made no reply.  “Your recommendation in the Gladys matter will put you in the bonus category far sooner than you think.”

            “And how soon will that be?”

            “How about tomorrow’s paycheck?”

            “Impossible.  Those checks have already run.”

            “Yes.  Technically, you won’t see anything official on your pay stub until the next cycle.  But there will be something on your paycheck tomorrow, I can assure you.”

Addendum 3

            “Tess.  I need to see you in my office,” the bosslady said as she drifted by the cubicle of the hard working Miss Adams.  As usual, she did not dirty her eyes with an actual glance into the cubicle, suffering her peripherals the unwanted task of verifying whether or not Miss Adams was at her desk. 

            She was there, of course.  Where else would she be?  The bosslady had not given permission for, nor set a task that would require, her to leave the area.  Still, you couldn’t leave it chance.  These lowlifes were always trying to filch extra breaks.  Getting water to drink, going to the bathroom.  Doing it all on company time.  If the bosslady had it her way, all cubicles would be equipped with giant water bottles hooked over their carpeted walls with stainless steel nozzles jutting out from the bottom, located somewhere near the computer monitors so these vermin could rat-lick the tube without the need to saunter down the hall to the water cooler.  That damned water cooler where they chatted like hens, clucking about her and the rest of the executives.  Not that she cared if they talked about her.  She liked to think that their discussions revolved solely around her in fact.  It was just that they were stealing company money when they did it on the clock like that.  Giant hamster bottles would end that water cooler crap real quick.

            And each desk would come with a special chair.  A toilet seat.  Except the plumbing would be rather expensive.  A Port A Potty.  Yes, that was better.  That way they had no excuse to leave the desk unless they were on their unpaid lunch breaks.  Or diapers.  That might be more economical.  In a fiscal year, how many diapers could one of them go through?  What would the overall cost be in comparison to the initial investment of a Port A Potty?  She’d have to figure in the cost of service calls to empty the portable toilets.  If the first diaper was issued for free and all subsequent diapers had to be ordered from a company catalog…  That would create an entirely new revenue stream! 

            The bosslady sat at her desk and began typing up the diaper proposal.

            “You wanted to see me,” Tess said from the doorway.

            “Not now!” the bosslady shouted.  “I’m onto something!”

            Tess flinched and then slunk from the door.

            “Oh wait!” the bosslady called out.  She did not stop typing but multitasked her fingers and her mouth. “I do have something I need to discuss with you.  Please sit down.”

            Tess sat.  The bosslady typed.  Tess fidgeted.  The bosslady giggled, low and impish.  A few minutes later her fingers stopped moving and she looked up at Miss Adams.

            “Tess,” she said and paused for an uncomfortably long time.  “You’ve been with the company for a long while now.”

            “Seventeen years.”

            “Yes.  I haven’t been with the company as long as you have–”

            “Less than two years,” said Tess.

            “Right.  I know we like to hire from within and I know you really wanted the supervisor position, but sometimes another applicant comes along and we just can’t afford to pass on him or her.  Their talents are such that should we fail to add them to our team it could be detrimental in the long run.”

            Miss Adams lowered her head.  Good.  This was good.  The bosslady loved it when subordinates were subservient.

            “I know you’re disappointed, but this man, Donald Jackson, will be a pleasure to work for.  He’ll do good things at this company.  He’s just the sort of person this corporation needs.”

Addendum 2

“I work for a relatively small company,” she said, “I’m currently in the accounting department of the home office, but I started out at the branch level.”

            “What’s your name?” he asked.

            “Oh, sorry, Corporate Man.  I’m Tess Adams.”

            “Call me Don, Miss Adams.  So this company you work for, is that why you’re here to see me?”

            “Yes.”

            “Is there some sort of trouble there?  Some fiscal misconduct?”

            “I’m not sure,” Tess said wiping tears from her eyes.  “I’ve been with the company a long time.  We started out very local and slowly expanded into a regional powerhouse.  That region is admittedly small, and our growth was always slow, but it was unshakably steady.  Recently though…”

            Corporate Man waited patiently for her to finish.

            “It’s just different now,” she said.

            “In what way?”

            “We’ve been getting a lot of new people.  Executives from competing businesses.  They don’t…  They don’t…  I know people say that when your company gets big things become more corporate, but why does that always seem like a justification for short sighted greed and callous behavior?  We lost our former CEO a few years ago.  You would have liked Jack.  He was the kind of guy who always knew everyone’s name.  If there was extra work to do, he’d be right in there with you. Getting his hands dirty in a manner of speaking.  The company picnics were huge, and fun, and made you feel… like coworkers instead of subordinates.  Like family.”

Corporate Man grabbed a juice from the fridge, unscrewed the cap, and passed it to Tess.  He sat down in chair by the desk, his cereal bowl left on the counter, unfinished.

“Jack earned a huge salary, but he was always generous with his money.  If he saw you out at a restaurant he paid your bill.  If he got wind that your had fallen on hard times, he’d cut you a personal check.”

“He does sound like that kind of man I would respect,” Corporate Man said.  “So once he left, I take it that’s when the company began to falter.” 

“I don’t know if the line was as fine as that,” Tess said.  “He was pretty old when he retired.  As our company grew our competitors shrank and people from their organization would apply for positions with us.  We hired from within when we could, but, as we grew, more and more corporate types wormed their way into our organization.  Jack got tired of fending them off I think.  He stepped down as CEO but stayed on with the company for a long time after that.  I think he was trying to keep his successor on the right path, so to say.  Anyway, we’ve continued to grow, but our work force seems to shrink.”

“Expand on that,” Corporate Man said.

“Well, a small branch office used to have a minimum of twenty-five employees.  They now run with about ten or eleven, eight if the manager’s a real ass.  The excuse is always that things are so much more automated these days that you don’t need as many people.  But that’s crap.  Branches typically have three or four times the number of accounts than they used to.  There is no less work now then before.  In fact, there is more to do than ever.”

Tess took a drink of her juice.  She was trembling. 

“So what happened?” Corporate Man asked.  “What changed?”

“Well that’s the problem.  No one wants to talk about it.  I mean, people talk, but that’s just speculation and grumbling.  It’s been happening at the head office since Jack left.  Slowly at first, but the same pattern.  I have a cousin that got fired a couple of years ago.  He was a branch manager when he got the ax and he said there was this new incentive program being rolled out.  It had something to do with trimming employee wages, thinning out the payroll.  I couldn’t get him to talk about it.  I don’t know if he actually understood it or if the whole situation just disgusted him so much.  He says they fired him because he wouldn’t get on board with the program.”

Corporate Man stood up, walked over to the counter, and took a bite of his Cap’Tal Gains.  The crunch was just as resolute as when he’d first poured milk into the bowl.  He slowly ground the cereal into swallowable bits.

            “I wish I could say I haven’t seen this kind of thing before,” Corporate Man said. “It’s all too common in the Corporate World.”

            He took a few more bites.  Tess sipped from the bottle of juice.

            “Miss Adams,” he said, “I need to get hired on at your company.  Are there any positions available at present?”

Addendum 1

Enslaved by the Bonus Whores:

A Corporate Man Adventure Serial

The events masterfully described in the following story are entirely fictitious and should in no way be attributed to, or suspected to be about, any person or persons living or dead.  Any resemblance to real life persons, places, or things should be considered entirely coincidental.  The following story concerns the events of an economically themed superhero.  That should have been your first clue as to the fictionality of its nature.  The use of the word fictionality should be further evidence of the madeupedness of the following.  However, if you should feel that your actions and or attitudes align with some of the more deplorable characters described in the following story, especially where business practices are concerned, perhaps it is time to reevaluate yourself and consider making a few changes.  Just what sort of horrible person are you anyway?

Addendum 1.

            He stumbled into his office that night, tired, and more than a little sore.  The case of the Corporate Mind Hive had ended badly and all he wanted was a hot meal and some sleep.  He would get neither. 

There was a woman at his desk, sitting in the dark, back-lit by the street lamp outside.  Her body silhouetted against the horizontal blinds, her hair an orange volcano pouring down her shoulders.

“This is a little cliché isn’t it?” he said, walking past the desk toward the small refrigerator in the corner.  There was no beer in the fridge.  There should be beer, he thought, if only to maintain the overused formula of this particular type of meeting.  But he didn’t like beer.  He was a juice man.  And besides, you weren’t supposed to drink at the office these days and he was always working.  He was the epitome of an office worker. 

The business executive.

The Corporate Man.

“Your secretary told me you needed a break from corporate intrigue and thought a little economic mystery might help,” she said.

He flipped on the lights.

“Well, it won’t,” he said lifting a carton of milk from the refrigerator.  “What I need is a break.  Period.  By law I am entitled to those.”

“Every couple of hours or so, I am told.”

Behind thick, black-rim glasses, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.  He was on the verge of saying something, but after a long moment he simply turned, opened a cupboard door, fished out bowl, set it on the narrow counter of the impossibly small kitchenette, opened another cupboard door, and grabbed a box of cereal.  Cap’Tal Gains.  A high fiber, multigrain cereal, in a variety of fun, currency shapes.  On the box an explosive, text-filled, star shape advertised, “Look inside for a chance to win a real gold bar!”

He shook the cereal into the bowl.  A mix of shapes – circular, rectangular and dollar-signed – fell in a cascade of wholesome browns ranging from tan to umber.  He poured milk over the cereal and then hunted around for a spoon.  Not just any spoon.  The spoon.  The silver spoon.  It was difficult amongst the stainless steel flatware but he found it.  He took a bite and crunched noisily through the first mouthful. 

Then he took another.

“Alright,” he said once that second bite was down, “what can I do for you?”

The woman took a deep breath, tears wet her eyes, and she began.