32. what a drag
A guy has got to make a living in the free world and that means
capital. Denver Griess went over for the umpteenth time the events of
the day past, trying to make some sense of it all. He had a thing or
two to work out in his head before he could rest his soul.
He was at home heating up his second cup of coffee from the pot he
had made the night before. It was time to conserve. Time to revert
back to a way of life he had once known. Eating rice and beans was a
small price to pay for freedom. He would wash his dirty clothes by
hand in the bathtub with the help of one of those new and powerful
laundry pollutants his mother had given him instead of going to the
neighborhood Laundromat. He would show up at dinnertime at friends
and get himself invited in order to keep the wolf at bay.
“Let the Goddess provide.” He said, lighting a half-smoked joint he
had found in the ashtray and sitting down in his oversized ochre
vinyl armchair.
Summer was finally coming to an end and soon the rainy season would
begin. The change of seasons would be good for his creative spirit,
he reasoned. He would have a lot of free time on his hands. He did
after all have a show coming up soon at the Notodo Gallery and, as of
yet, he had done doodly-squat.
Today, a day to live in infamy, Jeanie Johnson and Stephanie Savage
had locked themselves in the backroom, which was always an ominous
sign to all employees. Each mentally listed all the mistakes they had
made in the past weeks. Denver had lived through this before. He
tried to concentrate on the job at hand, remaining friendly to
customers, humming tunes to songs they wanted to purchase. Steve
walked over to him.
“They’re talking about me in there, I just know it.” He whispered to
Denver, his brown eyes darting around the room.
“I made a terrible mistake this morning. We were supposed to pull all
Polydora labels and send them back to the company because of some
corporate brouhaha, and I didn’t know that Gemini was their sub-
division. Boy. Stephanie was pissed. I know this is it for me. What a
drag. Now I won’t get a free supply of CD’s to play on the radio.
Well, it was nice working with you.” He left Denver without waiting
for a response.
The backroom door creaked open. Denver, from where he was standing
at the cashier’s counter, could see Jeanie’s miserable face poking
through the half-open door as if she were trying to catch any wayward
employee who had had the nerve to eavesdrop on the secret
conversation. No one, of course, would have dared. In times of
adversity such as this, everyone knew it was better to keep the mouth
shut and do the work as if nothing was going to happen.
Denver tried to ignore eye contact with his boss for fear of instant
reprisal. He busily processed a customer’s purchase, taking their
money, putting the CD into the trademark red-lettered, orange plastic
bag and insisting that they have a good day.
“I wanna, wanna ah with you. I wanna, wanna be to you. I wanna,
wanna, see to you. I wanna, wanna die for you.” Denver heard the beat
to the new single from the local band, the Geniuses, being played by
the store’s DJ. “I wanna, wanna be with you, I wanna, wanna fly to you,
I wanna, wanna … “
“Denver.” A voice interrupted his listening pleasure. “I’ve asked
Tracy to take your place. Jeanie and I would like to see you in the
backroom.”
It was the unmistakable ululation of Stephanie Savage, whose kiss of
death he felt although he had not turned around. He felt the blood
running from the open wounds she was about to inflict. He already
knew the horrors of being trapped in the same room with Stephanie
and Jeanie, having lived through multiple Egbert Seminar Training
sessions, which he was forced to attend in order to remain on the
company payroll.
In order to fine-tune the workers into more productive and better
members of the company, and thus society, they insisted that all
employees attend a monthly team spirit seminar. With neon lights
blazing, the employees would sit down on the floor. First, Stephanie
would go over aspects of their personalities, criticizing their
mistakes of the last month, and trying her best to destroy each ego
individually. Then she would attempt to rebuild it in the corporate
image. In the beginning, Denver was unfamiliar with this new type of
image building, never having worked for a company that took so much
pride in outwardly manipulating its employees.
Each month, he would watch in amazement as Stephanie singled out
one particular employee and ripped him or her to shreds. Last month it
was Tracy’s turn. Child molestation was blamed for the reason she
habitually filed Heaven 07 under ’soul’ instead of ’electronics’.
Stephanie brought the poor woman to tears, screaming out Tracy’s
fathers name repeatedly until she finally broke and rolled into a
fetal position on the floor screaming out the company’s name, gulping
for air.
Jeanie, who always stood in the corner saying nothing during the
verbal assaults, would then break into action, restrain the
supervisor from continuing, and comfort the weakened employee,
assisting in her rebirth. Stephanie would guard the exit to the
backroom until the traumatized employee was strong enough to get off
the floor and give her a hug.
Denver had been the victim a few months earlier, after which he had
been given a two-week suspension to think about whether he really
wanted to continue working at the company. She had started off by
saying that she had been observing him, which made him instantly feel
paranoid. She then accused him of not sharing in the enthusiasm that
she was striving to promote. She repeated over and over again the
corporate slogan of, ’Team Work is Dream Work,’ prodding him to
repeat the anthem.
She coaxed him to explain why he constantly wore a T-shirt with such
a personal letter written on it and, when he did not answer
immediately, she accused him of being immature and of constantly
needing his ego stroked to make up for the frustration he had endured
as a child. It was no wonder that he ’scribbled’, as she put it, ‘a
clear sign of introverted and undeveloped sexual tendencies’. Denver
sat motionless, hands in his pockets and for a brief moment he
considered whether it was worth making a fuss or just floating with
the tide until she was exhausted. After all, he was still in his
obligatory one-year-long probation period.
Jeanie, being her wormy self had remained in the corner arms folded
across her chest not saying a word during the wave of abuse. Finally
she stepped in and brought Stephanie back from breaking into a rage
at Denver’ unwillingness to ’stand up and take control’, something
which Stephanie kept yelling at Denver while foaming at the mouth.
Denver wondered if this was how recruits were now taught in the
military, those in command, screaming at, spitting on, reducing the
soldiers to feeling so like shit that they would be happy to lick
ass. It was no wonder that society was a police state with people
like Major Savage acting out deep-seated frustrations at having
voluntarily enlisted to be a slave in someone else’s army.
He entered the backroom and saw Jeanie standing in the corner. “Have
a seat, Denver!” Stephanie ordered upon his entering the room. She
closed the door quickly behind her and went over to her desk. For
what seemed like minutes nothing was heard except the shuffling of
papers.
“Can I smoke?” Denver said interrupting the silence, and received two
glares that could have turned medusa into stone. He dared not reach
for his cigarettes but felt proud for asking and catching them off
guard. Finally, Jeanie spoke stepping out of the corner.
“Quite frankly, Denver, the consistency of your work with the other
employees just hasn’t been working out to our mutual advantage. Your
acclimation to the company has not been trouble free and there are
lots of people waiting, wanting to work for Power who we think would
better fit our ideal of a model employee. Therefore, we’ve decided to
let you go.” Jeanie’s voice trailed off and she stepped back into her
corner.
“Model employee?” Denver questioned.
“I am sorry, Denver. I have been thinking about this all week. I
couldn’t sleep a night. This is so hard. I am so sorry, Denver, so
sorry …” She broke off, bowed her head and covered her eyes with her
right hand. Denver looked up at Jeanie and saw that she seemed to be
crying on command.
“What so wrong with what I’ve been doing?” he said blankly. “I show
up on time, I know my music, I am helpful to customers. I think I
have done a creative job decorating the store windows. What’s wrong?”
Denver was miffed at such a sudden dismissal.
It took a moment before Jeanie could collect herself and continue.
“Like we have said.” She gulped, “We simply decided,” casting an eye
at Stephanie, “that it would be a strategic move on our part to hire
one employee to replace you and Steve to make things run smoother.”
“Unfortunately, you will not qualify for welfare because you have
worked less than a year.” Stephanie chirped.
“Oh, yeah? I think, I’ve been here a year.” Denver retorted and sat
up in the chair. “I was hired to replace that Juan guy who was having
some sort of marital problems and had to go to jail.”
“We know. will be a year …” Stephanie added, smiling, “… tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother to try to take control, now. It is too late.” Jeanie
entered the picture. “Stephanie and I have already signed the
dismissal papers.”
“We have prepared a reference letter and a note for the Food Locker
stating your redundancy so you can qualify for free food.” Stephanie
said and tucked the pieces of paper into a brown manila envelope.
“All you have to do is sign your dismissal notice.” Stephanie
approached and handed Denver a clipboard and pen, pointing to the red
’x’ where he should put his signature.
“Oh Denver, I feel just awful, awful, saying this and to think I have
to do this same thing to Steve after you.” Jeanie was once again in
tears, quivering like a bowl of emotional jelly. “I’m so sorry that
it didn’t …”
Denver watched black tears, dyed by the heavy eyeliner she wore, run
down Jeanie’s cheeks. He read and signed his dismissal notice,
content in knowing that he had been fired for purely economic reasons
and not because he had stolen just about every promotion CD that came
into the store. At the same time, he reasoned, it was not a crime
because corporate policy did strictly prohibit their resale. He knew
that someday they could be used as insurance, traded in to get that
extra money whenever needed, and it seemed that time had come.
“Whatever, Jeanie.” He stood up and interrupted her emotional
dribble. “I will get through.” He looked over to Stephanie who had
reached out for the clipboard. “Always have.” and tossed it instead
onto her desk.
“Get me a Kleentex Stephanie, please. I’m a mess!” Stephanie gave
Denver a withering look. She quickly retrieved a box of facial tissue
from her command center and handed it to Jeanie.
You said it, you prune, you are a mess, Denver thought. Jeanie took a
step into Denver’s personal bubble. She looked up, dabbing her eyes.
“I know, Denver. I’ve been a bitch to you and I am sorry. I just
wanted to say that I always liked you.” She attempted to put her arms
around him.
“Okay. I like you too, Jeanie, as a person.” Denver did not respond to
her affection. „But working for you was a bitch and the same goes for
you, Major Stephanie.” Stephanie did not bother to pay attention to
the insult.
How in the world did you come to this? he thought, wishing to be
released from Jeanie’s physical contact. You new age corporate types
are supposed to work through the institutions to change society, not
take them over and further the exploitation. As I see it, you’re just
a pack of jelly ass squash pickers who flagellate where ever the wind
blows, a little to the left, a little to the right. You types preach
revolution as something new when evolution is what’s happening. You
just don’t get it and are constantly replacing the current yahoos
with your own schizophrenic breed. Same as it ever was. Heavy P.M.S.
The situation was pathetically ridiculous.
“If there is anything I can do for you Denver?” She said and snorted
back snot. “You know where to find me.”
“Yeah. Hell. Give me my job back.”
“We can’t do that,” came the voice of Stephanie, suddenly paying
notice. Nothing else followed.
Jeanie stepped forward and looked into Denver’ eyes. “I know it’s
hard, but I know you can make it. You’re strong.” She grabbed him by
the shoulders. “Look at this as a fresh start. Embrace the change and
nothing can hurt you.”
Denver remained numb to Jeanie. Without saying a word, he
methodically picked up his belongings, took one last look at the war
room and went over to the time clock. Both women stood patiently as
Denver punched his time card and handed it to Stephanie.
“I suppose I can pick up my last paycheck at the end of the month.”
“We’ll mail it to you.” Stephanie coldly stated, handing him the
manila envelope. “Denver, I hope I never see that T-shirt again.”
He avoided eye contact with the thin-lipped iguana killer as he
opened the door. “I’ll mail you a copy.”
“Can you send Steve in here?” Jeanie asked. “Thanks Denver, and go
in peace.” She put her hands together as if to pray.
“Oh fuck you both to hell and back. Heil Peace.” Denver said
pathetically raising his left arm and clicking his heels together.
“California über alles.”
He turned and walked through the store not bothering to inform Steve
of his upcoming fate. He nodded to his now former colleagues, knowing
that they knew what had just happened to him, and left the building
for good.
He collected his bike from the wisteria trellis where he had locked
it, mounted and rode off slowly. Dejected at being rejected from
employment once again, he meandered through the streets of sacramento
wondering about his options now that he had been fired from one of
the last bastions of alternative working conditions in sacramento.
Would he finally be made to don some uniform, succumb to following
obscene company procedures, perform acts that were totally against
his conscience or below his nature?
He turned into an alley for what seemed like the last time, feeling
almost sentimental about the dried animal turds, strange, slow moving
insects and trash cans brimming over with non bio-degradable waste.
There was a stray bum passing time with a bottle of Thunderbird on a
mock tweed couch.
He felt like a recently dethroned Miss America, saying her good-byes,
riding down the runway for the last time. He waved good-bye to the
box of unwanted polyester clothing. He nodded his farewell to the
smashed lowquats that had fallen off the tree and were rotting on the
cement pavement. He heard for probably the last time the sound of
screaming children coming from a housing project.
“I shall miss you all.” He said to himself and stopped at a telephone
pole to read the latest on the Art Angles.
Lesbians and shoplifters of the world unite and take over.
Steal from chain stores!
Power to the People!
The Art Angles identifies the four emotions which cause bad vibes:
First there is Envy. Sweet as chocolate.
Greed springs from the doctrines of institutionalized religions.
Jealousy is the suspicious feeling of stirring through thick valley
fog, hysterically lost,
committing spontaneous acts that turn into melodramatic headlines on
the front pages of
the biased tabloid press.
Anger is the common denominator raging on the horizon.
I figured it out when I was watching television. Now I know that
chauvinism is a proud and
bellicose form of patriotism, and that flag waving hoo-ha’s screaming
about one nation
are racists and hate the poor.
They do everything in their power to keep their numbers small and
pure-blood,
in spirit and in mind
but
Merchants have no country.
Being radical is not enough.
Social change occurs when
both passive and violent methods of resistance are used.
When the battle is almost won these forces must unite.
By any means necessary,
The Art Angles pleads.
We need to:
Limit the amount of wealth accumulated.
Take control of our resources.
Decentralize government power.
Demand full exposure and accountability.
Support local businesses.
Send goods stolen from J-Mart and HalMart to:
The Robina Hood Foundation
Poste Restante
Sacramento California 95814
and remember
Three strikes you are out.
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