Nate Briggs's Blog - Posts Tagged "capitalism"
Sunday Literary Life: May 7
This month I am pleased to be shining some light on a new Amazon Single - “Right Sizing” - which is too short to be a novel, but too long to be a short story. Forty-something years working in the corporate bubble have given me lots of stories. But I wanted to start with this one: Duncan Duste - formerly shooting star of a Fortune 500 company - now using his expensive education in the Ivy League to guide him in making coffee at a corner Pump’n’Dump convenience store.
Duncan, sadly, committed the corporate sin of telling the truth in the wrong place at the wrong time. As described here:
“Bib’s TeamChat happened at the same time every week. Every week: three hours of incoherent rambling, mumbled self-pity, blatant character assassination and snide finger pointing. Sound and fury: reliably signifying nothing.
“Always three hours at least. Sometimes pushed out to three-and-a-half, or four.
“No one permitted to leave unless it was a medical emergency. Rumor had it that Bib had a bag strapped somewhere, and she could go indefinitely. But everyone else had a bladder, and — as soon as the meeting on this fateful day came to a close — Duncan and his friends had rushed straight for the men’s room: bursting through the swinging door with crisp enthusiasm.
“Later, the other two would argue that Duncan had only himself to blame for cutting corners. The first one to the porcelain, it had been his responsibility to do the groucho walk along the back stalls: checking for shoes visible under the doors.
“He was in there with friends. But you couldn’t assume everyone in the facility was friendly.
“Duncan had been working on his fresh, new one-liner all during the team meeting — and here was a big, echoing space to introduce it: ‘Now we have proof that turds rise to the top around here! How is that cunt keeping her job? Any other company: she’d be standing in the cafeteria line with a hairnet and a ladle. Here it’s an office with a view and six weeks’ vacation!’
“The expected chuckles of echoed appreciation didn’t come. Instead: sincere alarm.
“Duncan’s quip might be funny. Or it might not. Everything depended on who else heard him say it.
“Bracken Acker, who thought he might have a bladder infection, still took the time to go along the line of inscrutable stalls — bent almost double — walking as softly as he could.
“At the next to last, he hit pay dirt. Looking back at his friends, he’d waved his hands in the air, and screamed “Shit! Shit!” without making any noise at all.
“Patel and Acker recognized the crisis, and understood what Duncan had to do.
”Yet, even with long convenience store graveyards to think it over, Duncan wasn’t sure why he’d made no attempt at damage control. He may have wanted to be delightfully different from his friends. Maybe he’d been sick and tired of being one of Bib’s “little guys”. Maybe lazy. Or maybe believing too much in the charity of the Human Spirit.
“But Bracken Acker hadn’t shared any of those feelings. He’d rushed up, and put a coffee scented whisper in Duncan’s ear: ‘Say you were talking about someone else! Say it wasn’t about Bib!’
“‘Jesus! Who else would I be talking about?’
Acker had hissed through his teeth: ‘Anybody! Anybody! Quick!’”
Duncan, sadly, committed the corporate sin of telling the truth in the wrong place at the wrong time. As described here:
“Bib’s TeamChat happened at the same time every week. Every week: three hours of incoherent rambling, mumbled self-pity, blatant character assassination and snide finger pointing. Sound and fury: reliably signifying nothing.
“Always three hours at least. Sometimes pushed out to three-and-a-half, or four.
“No one permitted to leave unless it was a medical emergency. Rumor had it that Bib had a bag strapped somewhere, and she could go indefinitely. But everyone else had a bladder, and — as soon as the meeting on this fateful day came to a close — Duncan and his friends had rushed straight for the men’s room: bursting through the swinging door with crisp enthusiasm.
“Later, the other two would argue that Duncan had only himself to blame for cutting corners. The first one to the porcelain, it had been his responsibility to do the groucho walk along the back stalls: checking for shoes visible under the doors.
“He was in there with friends. But you couldn’t assume everyone in the facility was friendly.
“Duncan had been working on his fresh, new one-liner all during the team meeting — and here was a big, echoing space to introduce it: ‘Now we have proof that turds rise to the top around here! How is that cunt keeping her job? Any other company: she’d be standing in the cafeteria line with a hairnet and a ladle. Here it’s an office with a view and six weeks’ vacation!’
“The expected chuckles of echoed appreciation didn’t come. Instead: sincere alarm.
“Duncan’s quip might be funny. Or it might not. Everything depended on who else heard him say it.
“Bracken Acker, who thought he might have a bladder infection, still took the time to go along the line of inscrutable stalls — bent almost double — walking as softly as he could.
“At the next to last, he hit pay dirt. Looking back at his friends, he’d waved his hands in the air, and screamed “Shit! Shit!” without making any noise at all.
“Patel and Acker recognized the crisis, and understood what Duncan had to do.
”Yet, even with long convenience store graveyards to think it over, Duncan wasn’t sure why he’d made no attempt at damage control. He may have wanted to be delightfully different from his friends. Maybe he’d been sick and tired of being one of Bib’s “little guys”. Maybe lazy. Or maybe believing too much in the charity of the Human Spirit.
“But Bracken Acker hadn’t shared any of those feelings. He’d rushed up, and put a coffee scented whisper in Duncan’s ear: ‘Say you were talking about someone else! Say it wasn’t about Bib!’
“‘Jesus! Who else would I be talking about?’
Acker had hissed through his teeth: ‘Anybody! Anybody! Quick!’”
