Addendum 16

             “Don’t run,” the bosslady said.  “You wouldn’t even get the door open before she cut you down.”

            Corporate Man had no intention of running.  He knew what Pink Slip was capable of.  He also knew that he wasn’t prepared for a physical confrontation either.  He’d only faced her on his own once before and he was still surprised that he’d survived the confrontation.

            “Who are you?  What is all this?” Corporate Man said.

            “This… is Pink Slip,” the bosslady said.  “She’s insurance.”

            “And you?”

            “Me?”

            “Yeah.  Who are you?  You’re not just some small time executive for Great American Business Company.  You’re something more.”

            “Ah… How refreshing.  A man recognizes my worth,” the bosslady said.  She sifted some more powder onto her hand and sniffed.  “I’m something new.  There will be more like me, you can be sure about that.  Male and female.  In vast multitudes as the conglomerates continue to grow.  But I am the first.  I’m Corporate Whore.”

            “Not the most flattering of names.”

            “No?  The oldest profession?  That’s not notable?  Not respectable?”

            “I wouldn’t–”

            “Of course you wouldn’t, man-ling.  How dare a mere female enter the boy’s club of corporate finance.  Women belong in the home.  Let’s forget that the first business, that oldest of all professions, was started by woman.”

            “You’ve no proof that–”

            “And that business is still thriving today!” she shouted over him.  Then she paused for a moment, allowing the silence to stand as evidence of her victory.  “Now.  You will go back to your office and spend the rest of the morning working on strategies to maximize our bonuses.  You may have the afternoon off to struggle with your new addiction.”

            Corporate Whore raised her chin.  Her head cocked to the side almost imperceptibly.  Pink Slip’s whip cracked out, the tip popping inches in front of Corporate Man’s face.  He stood up, obediently, and walked out of the office.

            The bonus envelope and its shady contents gripped tightly in his hands.

Addendum 14

            Every cell in his body felt alive.  His blood felt like liquid rubies and his mind of molten gold, racing with crazy, lucrative ideas and inventive corporate strategies.  He could not seem to focus on his predicament though.  Nothing practical or clever, unless it was fiscally strategic.

            The bosslady continued, “You’ll receive your supply of Bonus with every paycheck.  Today’s unscheduled payday was unique.  Think of it as inaugural, an initiation if you will.  It won’t happen again unless you exceed expectations and create new financially advantageous opportunities for the company.  As your monetary bonuses increase, so does your supply.”

            “I won’t do this.”

            “Sure you will.  It’s got a hold on you now.  It’s in your blood.  And you’ll get another taste of what it’s like to be without it.  You might be able to portion that syringe into two, maybe three doses, and the cash has enough powder on it that you could triple-count the bills and get another one that way.  I assure you though, that by the time payday rolls around again, you will be in terrible need of a fix.”

            Corporate Man stood up.  The room jittered and slight tracers blurred the lines of everything.  He closed his eyes.  That proved to be a big mistake.  Dollar signs and graphs and P&L reports swam at him through the dark and he staggered.  When he opened his eyes it took a moment for the room to stop moving.  He shook his head.  This did nothing to clear his mind.  Everything went rubbery for a moment and the sound of commerce rang in his ears.

            “I won’t let you get away with this?”

            “Oh no?  And who are you?  Donald Jackson, guardian angel of business ethics and fiscal morality?  No, I’ve seen your resume.  I know what you’ve done.  You might be angry at being tricked, but that won’t last.  There are other benefits to Bonus that you have yet to discover.  Think of it as a business super serum.”

            “I’ll barricade myself in a hotel room somewhere and kick this junk and then report you to the Better Business Bureau,” Corporate Man said.  The thought of another two days of chills and body aches and fever and vomiting and diarrhea was not encouraging. 

            The bosslady laughed.  “Oh!  That’s rich.  The BBB.  Impotent weaklings!”

            “Maybe,” Corporate Man said.  “But it would be enough to cause in depth inquiries.  Disrupt your Bonus supply, maybe.”

            The smile slipped from her face like a stock market crash.  Her cheeks reddened and her brow pinched in a severe scowl. A slight tremor shook her upper lip.  And then she took a breath and her demeanor relaxed.

            “I have contingencies,” she said and pressed a button on her phone.  A blinking, rose colored light, throbbed from beneath it.

            The door at the back of the office, the one Corporate Man thought was a private bathroom, creaked open.  A pink light poured out and filled the bosslady’s office.  A woman, dressed in skin-tight hot-pink vinyl, matching gloves and stiletto heels, and a domino mask stepped over the threshold.  In one had she held a black clipboard and in the other, a leather whip.

            Corporate Man recognized her and almost said her name.

            Pink Slip.

Addendum 13

            Corporate Man walked into the bosslady’s office and closed the door behind him.

            “I’m a little busy just now,” the bosslady said.  She seemed to be opening and closing programs at random.

            “What is this?” Corporate Man asked, gesturing with the bonus envelope.

            “Your bonus.  Like I said.”

            “Not the cash,” Corporate Man hissed.  He pulled the syringe from the envelope and said, “This.”

            The bosslady never dropped her gaze and said, monotone and slow, as if repeating herself to a stupid child, “Your bonus.”

            “What is it?”

            “Are you going to make me say it third time?”

            “Is it a drug?”

            “It’s not a vaccine or a vitamin shot.”

            “I don’t do drugs.”

            The bosslady shrugged.  “You do now.”

            “No.  I don’t,” said Corporate Man.  His heart was racing and it felt like time was passing a little slower, or perhaps his mind was operating in overdrive.

            “That’s odd.  Your eyes are dilated and–”

            “They aren’t dilated you crazy–”

            “How are you feeling?  Pretty good?” she said cocking her head slightly.  “Elevated heart rate, slight sense of euphoria?  Is the light behaving… unusually?”

            Corporate Man froze.  The light was more sparkly than usual.  And the colors a bit more vivid.

            “I’ll bet the colors, especially the greens, seem a little more… well, a little more.  And there’s a sense of confidence, almost an arrogant, unstoppable feeling that’s setting in.  Am I right?”

            Corporate Man took a step back.  The world… tilted.  Slightly, but it was there.  Everything was askew. “What have you done?”

            “Oh it’s not me, it’s the bonus,” she said.

            “I haven’t–”

            “You have.”

            No.  Had he?  Corporate Man looked at the syringe.  It was still full of greenish fluid.  An impressively attractive green fluid.

            “Oh, that’s for later,” the bosslady said.  She opened a desk drawer and removed a small emerald colored vial.  She unscrewed the cap, shook a small pile of powder onto her finger tips, and rubbed them together in that instantly recognizable sign for money.  The powder was almost white, veering in hue toward that familiar money green.

            Corporate Man looked at the package of cash.  He pulled the bills out, and shook the envelope.  A light dust sifted to the floor.

            “You can snort it too, and it’s designed to absorb quickly through the fingertips,” the bosslady said.  “Quite effective in its powder form, but the liquid state is the truer variety.  And it is wickedly addictive.”

            “I wasn’t sick.”

            “Nope.  You were unknowingly kicking your new habit.  It’s harder the second time.  Next to impossible now that you know about it and have access to the cure.”

            Corporate Man sat down.  “What is it?  Cocaine?  Heroin?”

            “It’s called Bonus,” the bosslady said.  “It’s the future of capitalism.”

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 9

            Corporate Man knocked on the door to the bosslady’s office.  It was already open, but he always gave a courtesy knock.  She looked up, her grim, sallow expression morphing into a something not quite pleasant but far more amiable.

            “Yes, Donald,” she said.

            “Told you so,” Corporate Man said and smiled.

            “Told me so what?”

            “That it was too late to affect this check.”

            “What do you mean?”

             “You said there would be something on this paycheck relating to my newly acquired bonus.”

            She took a moment to look perplexed, almost pained.  “Are you sure?”

            “Yep.  Nothing,” Corporate Man said, gesturing toward his pay-stub.”

            “And there was nothing else in the envelope?”

            Corporate Man tipped the enveloped upside down, stuffed a few fingers inside, and flared them wide.  A sift of white paper-dust drifted over his hand, but nothing of monetary value fell out.  The bosslady held her practiced expression and then shrugged. 

            “I’ll check with payroll,” she said.

            “No need to bother.  I was just having a little fun.”

            “Oh? Oh!” she feigned surprise, and the laugh that followed was not a comfortable thing.  The feeling that that sound inspired in all those who heard it was something akin to placing a well traveled quarter on one’s tongue.  “Funny stuff.  Well then, back to work.”

            Corporate Man walked back to his desk.  Apparently efforts to employ humor as method to gain further information about the bonus would not work with this one.  He sat at his desk, intending to fire off a couple of e-mails, but when he reached for his mouse, a strange tingling sensation skittered down his fingers. He balled his hand into a fist and the flexed his fingers.  His whole hand when numb.  He shook it.  Pins and needles raced up his forearm. 

            Corporate Man gripped his elbow as if he could stop the sensation from making its way up into his shoulder.  Prickly pain flared at the area of contact and Corporate Man sucked air through his teeth.

            And then it was gone.

            He flexed the fingers again.  All seemed fine.  So he took a couple of deep breaths, reached for his mouse, but did not open up an e-mail window.  There was a new icon on his desktop. 

            Managerial Bonus Program.

            His whole body ignited.  His pulse quickened.  He licked his lips.  And he clicked on the icon.

            He read through the document and scanned the attached spreadsheets.  The hairs on his neck prickled.  This was insane.  There was no way this kind of bonus program could be healthy for a company.  It would be far too easy for employees to fall victim to The Greed with incentives such as these.  He ran some numbers in his head and calculated the increases that the elimination of Gladys’s hours would yield.  It was staggering.

            Corporate Man pulled up a spreadsheet listing the allotted hours for his department.  Were there other positions he could dispense with?  He considered some methods that could be employed.  Things that might urge an employee or two to transfer to another department.

            He blinked, a little shocked at the line of thinking.  It was so insensitive, so heartless.  It sickened him.  But he felt compelled to continue along this selfish path.  For research purposes only, of course.  He needed to discover the possible moves his opponents would make, and to do that he’d need to think like them.  Also, there was this crazy competitive urge to dream up the most effective plans, the most underhanded schemes.

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 6

            The bosslady was smiling.  Not that forced smile she usually used on her subordinates, but one of genuine pleasure.  She loved doing this.  She loved serving them what was basically a shit sandwich and presenting it as though she was doing them a favor.

            She gathered them in her office to introduce their new supervisor.  A man who would probably eliminate the positions of more than a few of them.

            “Everyone.  I’m very excited to introduce you to your new supervisor, Donald Jackson,” she said.  Then she clapped and encouraged applause from the vermin as well.  When they reluctantly joined her she cut back in.  “He’s going to do great things here at Good American Business Company.  We’re growing and he’s just the man to get us through the coming transition from a small regional business to a national corporation.”

            She instigated more applause and then said, “Donald?”

            Donald Jackson cleared his throat, huge white-toothed grin on his face, and said, “What a great place.  Just awesome.  It really feels like a family here.  Everyone seems to care about everyone.  And that’s the most important thing, I think.  That’s what I want to preserve as we grow and that’s part of what I’ve been hired to do.  The other part of my job is to take advantage of growth opportunities and take this place national.  We’ve got a chance to crush it, people.  And I think we can.  No.  I’m confident… that we will.”

            The bosslady led the claps again.

            “I hope you’ll bear with me in the coming weeks as I settle in.  I’m going to sit with each of you so I can see what it is you do and, together, we’ll look for ways you can do it better.  I’m really excited.  I hope you are too.”

            Inside, the bosslady was giddy.  Her rats, these vermin, these absolute parasites were eating it up.  They were eating up the shit Donald was shoveling.  All but a few at least.  She glanced around and took note of the lowlife workers who were smiling, but not with their eyes.  They were the ones she’d set Mr. Jackson on first.

            “Alright,” she said.  “Meeting over.  Feel free to visit with Donald for few minutes and then get back to your stations.  If you need me, I’ll be in my office.  I’ve got a lot of work to do, but as you know, my door is always open.”

            She loved saying that.  The open door thing.  She made it a habit to close her door frequently to confuse them.

            When she got back to her desk there was an e-mail waiting for her.  The subject line read: re: Employee Diaper Proposal.

            The body of the e-mail had a two line response: Sounds great.  Double check the numbers and submit them for final approval.

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.”