Grit
11-23-2012, 07:52 PM
Keys click and clatter, joining forces with the cyclical slurp of coffee in an endless symphony of monotony. Dull sales scripts provide the chorus, and a small, second-story office provides the setting. Source Custom Signage. This is where insignificant souls go to die.
Caroline’s on her fifth cup of coffee and it isn’t even noon. She sighs and glances at her “sale gun.” A plastic grey telephone that’s manufactured for ninety-five cents in Indonesia. Unfortunately, Caroline hasn’t “pulled the trigger” on any sales today. She hasn’t even picked up the receiver.
Rain splatters on the windows, adding rhythm to this painfully slow humdrum of a day. Caroline glances around the office, where her co-workers are busy at work. They’re all speaking but no ones talking.
Caroline jumps as the phone screams to life, rattling against her thin desk.
“Source Custom Signage this is Caroline speaking, how may I help you?” The receiver is cold against her ear.
The sound of loud chewing comes through the speaker. “Omm-nom-nom-nom. I need to see you in my office. Right away.” Click.
Caroline shrugs, stands and walks the fifty-nine steps her bosses office. His door is closed, and Caroline looks dully at the sign set in cheap wood. “Greg Harrison. VP of Northwest Operations.” The king of ****. Caroline knocks hard and then leans back on her heels.
A minute passes with no response, and so Caroline raps her knuckles against the wood again. Knock, knock, kn-
“Just a minute, hold your horses.” Greg shouts through the door, frustration apparent in his honey-rich voice. Splenda in snake oil. Why did he ask her to come right away if he isn’t ready?
The door whips open, sending a draft through Caroline’s hair, and Greg stands to the side, feet close together. “Come in, come in.” His charmer smile is pasted on his face. Arrow-straight rows of shiny white pearls.
Caroline enters without a word, and Greg jogs around her. He throws himself in a large, leather chair and gestures with a tanned, smooth hand to the infinitesimal chair in front of his desk. Caroline sits and looks at Greg with leaden eyes.
“Alright,” Greg declares bombastically, clapping his hands together once. “I have a problem Caroline, and so do you.” Reaching into the depths of his goliath desk, Greg pulls a shiny plastic dossier out and raises his eyebrows at Caroline. “This is the monthly sales report for November.” He tosses the report across the table, where Caroline catches it and glances down.
Every employee has a bar on the chart, signified with initials. The bar represents their sales. Caroline notices that Todd is leading the charge again with one hundred sales.
“See that pink bar?” Greg asks, hands clasped together.
Caroline certainly did, it was her bar. It was also less of a bar and more of a sliver. Three sales. “I do.”
“Three sales.” Greg says as he nods and stares at the ground, biting his lip. “Pretty unacceptable.” His eyes bug out of his head as his eyelids disappear in their sockets. “Pretty unacceptable.”
“I agree.”
“What have you been doing the last month Caroline? I looked at the phone records. Some days you don’t even make any calls. Not a single call.”
Caroline smiles, she knows where this is going. Annihilation, termination, expiration. Call it what you like.
“That’s a good question Greg. It leaves me wondering how you took so long to notice. What have you been doing this last month? How did you manage to miss the fact that one of your employees hasn’t made a single sale? You didn’t check on us once. Not a single time.” Caroline feels her eyes flashing in anger, and she’s leaning forward in her seat. However, Greg still towers over her from his leather throne and all pleasantness has vanished from his face.
“This meeting isn’t about me, it’s about you and how you’ve been pretending to work. Steali-“
“I pretend to work because you pretend to pay me. Thirteen dollars an hour?” Caroline forces a laugh from her lungs, slapping her palm obnoxiously against her knee. Her heart is racing, and breathing is ragged. Caffeine feeds her anger like rocket fuel.
“Plus commission.” Greg puts in, an ugly sneer stealing over his handsome features.
“What commission? You honestly want me to cold call companies about signage? We have a base of loyal customers who call us. That accounts for over ninety percent of our business. Those customers are handled by Todd, because he’s got seniority. What’s left for the rest of us is a day full of no.” Caroline feels herself gaining momentum, and stands. “Want to upgrade your signage? No. Who wrote that script Greg? No one knows what signage is. They’re signs.” Caroline finishes with a yelp, running her hands through her hair and pulling, causing pain to shoot through her scalp.
“You’re fired Caroline. Clear out your desk.” Greg says simply and turns his chair sideways, as if he cannot see her any longer.
“Good.” Caroline shouts, and looks at him, then through the glass. Her co-workers are all bent over desks, phones to ears. “That’s great.”
Slamming the door to Greg’s office, Caroline stalks through the office, steaming. What the hell is she going to do? Rent to pay, mouths to feed at home. Bills piling up. Jesus christ, why is she so lazy? Slumping in her seat, Caroline rests her face in her hands and chews her palms. What the hell is she going to do?
Slouching shell-shocked in her corner cubicle, Caroline begins to cry.
A loud crash gets attention as a door slams. Caroline stands and peeks over the wall of her cubicle. It seems Jerry, an old employee has stopped by for a visit. Caroline’s eyes start to water again. She’s the new Jerry.
Without hesitation, Jerry pulls a shiny piece of metal from his pocket, a magnum, and fires into Sandy, the woman sitting nearest to him. The noise scares the **** out of Caroline, and she falls backwards, hitting her head on the wall behind her cubicle. There are several more concussive bangs and Caroline whimpers with each one.
Touching fingers to her head, Caroline registers her hair is thick and matted with blood. Standing quickly, Caroline peeks over her cubicle wall again. Several of her co-workers lay dead in pools of blood, papers and other stationary thrown about.
Jerry is calmly reloading his gun, sliding massive slugs into the six-chamber. A joyous grin rests on his face, and Caroline registers that he’s smoking a cigarette. Hand rolled, it’s hanging loosely from his bottom lip.
Caroline ducks again, and looks around her cubicle. She can’t die, not here, not in this **** hole right after she’s fired. As a child, she’d wanted to sing, to be a star. This isn’t how it ends. It can’t be.
Another loud bang makes Caroline duck deeper in her cubicle, sliding to her bottom on the carpeted floor. Screams follow the last gunshot, and Caroline can’t help but think it’s not a clean kill. Shivering, Caroline glances around her small space, looking for something, anything that can help her, to defend herself. Jerry’s not one of those selective killers, he’s on a goddamn spree.
The only thing that even remotely resembles a weapon is her stapler, and that’s not much when matched up against a magnum. Caroline peeks over the wall of the cubicle again, and sees Jerry walking slowly and surely towards Greg’s office. That lackadaisical smile still altering his features.
Caroline falls to her knees and begins crawling from her cubicle, hands grasping carpet desperately. Skirting around the piles of blood, flecked with brain and skull, Caroline glances at Jerry, who’s leaning against the glass looking into Greg’s office. His eyes look glued to the window.
Caroline is at the exit when she stops crawling. Jerry begins laughing and Caroline jumps, but turns to see Jerry pointing through the glass. Greg’s still alive in there.
Caroline stands quietly, and turns, looking at Jerry. Todd is sprawled wide in the desk on her right, head fractured into pieces. In his hand, he still holds his “sale gun.” He was just “pulling the trigger.”
Jerry raises his gun and begins firing into the glass, cackling loudly. BANG. Caroline stands unheard. BANG. Caroline strides towards Jerry, face set. BANG. Caroline rips the employee of the month plaque off the wall. A hundred pictures of smiling Todd. BANG. Caroline walks up behind Jerry, and raises the plaque over her head. It’s heavy, polished wood of much finer quality than the desks. BANG. Caroline brings the plaque down with a grunt, the sharp edge cracking through Jerry’s skull. His legs buckle and Jerry collapses, his head bleeding. Caroline gingerly kicks the gun away and then kneels beside him. Holding a hand to his skull, Caroline tries to stop the bleeding.
A scarf rests on Sandy’s desk, wet and heavy with blood. Caroline grabs it and wraps it tightly around Jerry’s wound.
The office door opens and Greg stands shaking, looking down at Caroline, face white as bone.
“I-Is he dead?”
“Go **** yourself Greg.”
Caroline’s on her fifth cup of coffee and it isn’t even noon. She sighs and glances at her “sale gun.” A plastic grey telephone that’s manufactured for ninety-five cents in Indonesia. Unfortunately, Caroline hasn’t “pulled the trigger” on any sales today. She hasn’t even picked up the receiver.
Rain splatters on the windows, adding rhythm to this painfully slow humdrum of a day. Caroline glances around the office, where her co-workers are busy at work. They’re all speaking but no ones talking.
Caroline jumps as the phone screams to life, rattling against her thin desk.
“Source Custom Signage this is Caroline speaking, how may I help you?” The receiver is cold against her ear.
The sound of loud chewing comes through the speaker. “Omm-nom-nom-nom. I need to see you in my office. Right away.” Click.
Caroline shrugs, stands and walks the fifty-nine steps her bosses office. His door is closed, and Caroline looks dully at the sign set in cheap wood. “Greg Harrison. VP of Northwest Operations.” The king of ****. Caroline knocks hard and then leans back on her heels.
A minute passes with no response, and so Caroline raps her knuckles against the wood again. Knock, knock, kn-
“Just a minute, hold your horses.” Greg shouts through the door, frustration apparent in his honey-rich voice. Splenda in snake oil. Why did he ask her to come right away if he isn’t ready?
The door whips open, sending a draft through Caroline’s hair, and Greg stands to the side, feet close together. “Come in, come in.” His charmer smile is pasted on his face. Arrow-straight rows of shiny white pearls.
Caroline enters without a word, and Greg jogs around her. He throws himself in a large, leather chair and gestures with a tanned, smooth hand to the infinitesimal chair in front of his desk. Caroline sits and looks at Greg with leaden eyes.
“Alright,” Greg declares bombastically, clapping his hands together once. “I have a problem Caroline, and so do you.” Reaching into the depths of his goliath desk, Greg pulls a shiny plastic dossier out and raises his eyebrows at Caroline. “This is the monthly sales report for November.” He tosses the report across the table, where Caroline catches it and glances down.
Every employee has a bar on the chart, signified with initials. The bar represents their sales. Caroline notices that Todd is leading the charge again with one hundred sales.
“See that pink bar?” Greg asks, hands clasped together.
Caroline certainly did, it was her bar. It was also less of a bar and more of a sliver. Three sales. “I do.”
“Three sales.” Greg says as he nods and stares at the ground, biting his lip. “Pretty unacceptable.” His eyes bug out of his head as his eyelids disappear in their sockets. “Pretty unacceptable.”
“I agree.”
“What have you been doing the last month Caroline? I looked at the phone records. Some days you don’t even make any calls. Not a single call.”
Caroline smiles, she knows where this is going. Annihilation, termination, expiration. Call it what you like.
“That’s a good question Greg. It leaves me wondering how you took so long to notice. What have you been doing this last month? How did you manage to miss the fact that one of your employees hasn’t made a single sale? You didn’t check on us once. Not a single time.” Caroline feels her eyes flashing in anger, and she’s leaning forward in her seat. However, Greg still towers over her from his leather throne and all pleasantness has vanished from his face.
“This meeting isn’t about me, it’s about you and how you’ve been pretending to work. Steali-“
“I pretend to work because you pretend to pay me. Thirteen dollars an hour?” Caroline forces a laugh from her lungs, slapping her palm obnoxiously against her knee. Her heart is racing, and breathing is ragged. Caffeine feeds her anger like rocket fuel.
“Plus commission.” Greg puts in, an ugly sneer stealing over his handsome features.
“What commission? You honestly want me to cold call companies about signage? We have a base of loyal customers who call us. That accounts for over ninety percent of our business. Those customers are handled by Todd, because he’s got seniority. What’s left for the rest of us is a day full of no.” Caroline feels herself gaining momentum, and stands. “Want to upgrade your signage? No. Who wrote that script Greg? No one knows what signage is. They’re signs.” Caroline finishes with a yelp, running her hands through her hair and pulling, causing pain to shoot through her scalp.
“You’re fired Caroline. Clear out your desk.” Greg says simply and turns his chair sideways, as if he cannot see her any longer.
“Good.” Caroline shouts, and looks at him, then through the glass. Her co-workers are all bent over desks, phones to ears. “That’s great.”
Slamming the door to Greg’s office, Caroline stalks through the office, steaming. What the hell is she going to do? Rent to pay, mouths to feed at home. Bills piling up. Jesus christ, why is she so lazy? Slumping in her seat, Caroline rests her face in her hands and chews her palms. What the hell is she going to do?
Slouching shell-shocked in her corner cubicle, Caroline begins to cry.
A loud crash gets attention as a door slams. Caroline stands and peeks over the wall of her cubicle. It seems Jerry, an old employee has stopped by for a visit. Caroline’s eyes start to water again. She’s the new Jerry.
Without hesitation, Jerry pulls a shiny piece of metal from his pocket, a magnum, and fires into Sandy, the woman sitting nearest to him. The noise scares the **** out of Caroline, and she falls backwards, hitting her head on the wall behind her cubicle. There are several more concussive bangs and Caroline whimpers with each one.
Touching fingers to her head, Caroline registers her hair is thick and matted with blood. Standing quickly, Caroline peeks over her cubicle wall again. Several of her co-workers lay dead in pools of blood, papers and other stationary thrown about.
Jerry is calmly reloading his gun, sliding massive slugs into the six-chamber. A joyous grin rests on his face, and Caroline registers that he’s smoking a cigarette. Hand rolled, it’s hanging loosely from his bottom lip.
Caroline ducks again, and looks around her cubicle. She can’t die, not here, not in this **** hole right after she’s fired. As a child, she’d wanted to sing, to be a star. This isn’t how it ends. It can’t be.
Another loud bang makes Caroline duck deeper in her cubicle, sliding to her bottom on the carpeted floor. Screams follow the last gunshot, and Caroline can’t help but think it’s not a clean kill. Shivering, Caroline glances around her small space, looking for something, anything that can help her, to defend herself. Jerry’s not one of those selective killers, he’s on a goddamn spree.
The only thing that even remotely resembles a weapon is her stapler, and that’s not much when matched up against a magnum. Caroline peeks over the wall of the cubicle again, and sees Jerry walking slowly and surely towards Greg’s office. That lackadaisical smile still altering his features.
Caroline falls to her knees and begins crawling from her cubicle, hands grasping carpet desperately. Skirting around the piles of blood, flecked with brain and skull, Caroline glances at Jerry, who’s leaning against the glass looking into Greg’s office. His eyes look glued to the window.
Caroline is at the exit when she stops crawling. Jerry begins laughing and Caroline jumps, but turns to see Jerry pointing through the glass. Greg’s still alive in there.
Caroline stands quietly, and turns, looking at Jerry. Todd is sprawled wide in the desk on her right, head fractured into pieces. In his hand, he still holds his “sale gun.” He was just “pulling the trigger.”
Jerry raises his gun and begins firing into the glass, cackling loudly. BANG. Caroline stands unheard. BANG. Caroline strides towards Jerry, face set. BANG. Caroline rips the employee of the month plaque off the wall. A hundred pictures of smiling Todd. BANG. Caroline walks up behind Jerry, and raises the plaque over her head. It’s heavy, polished wood of much finer quality than the desks. BANG. Caroline brings the plaque down with a grunt, the sharp edge cracking through Jerry’s skull. His legs buckle and Jerry collapses, his head bleeding. Caroline gingerly kicks the gun away and then kneels beside him. Holding a hand to his skull, Caroline tries to stop the bleeding.
A scarf rests on Sandy’s desk, wet and heavy with blood. Caroline grabs it and wraps it tightly around Jerry’s wound.
The office door opens and Greg stands shaking, looking down at Caroline, face white as bone.
“I-Is he dead?”
“Go **** yourself Greg.”