March of the Oppressors

"You're fired," the man on the other side of the desk said. "I have no other alternative but to let you go, Tom ----- you know, word from the personnel office. I understand that you have been with us for many years now and it falls on me, unfortunately, to have to tell you this. You have missed two days this month and you have been late several times. We cannot and will not tolerate that kind of attendance record from any of our employees. Not only that, but you have been slow in your performance lately. We are giving you six weeks severance pay and some unemployment if you agree to exit promptly and quietly."

"But Mr. Barkley," the other poor creature with the name of Tom began, "how will I feed my family. Would it matter if I were younger? After all, you seem to get rid of all us old folks ---- we can't work sixteen hours a day, seven days a week ----"

The other man, being the hawk beaked, cold-hearted beast that he was, did not give poor Tom time to finish before he efficiently cut him off. "Now Tom, you know that is not true. We take pride in having over twenty employees that have been in our employ more than twenty years each."

"Of course, Mr. Barkley, you keep some of the top people, managers and others that have been in your debt, here so that you can say that. You only keep a few people so that you can make such claims. But, the terrible truth is that you are just like the other corporations. You turn your older employees out into the cold to fend for themselves, once they reach a certain age. The streets are filled with homeless workers from the big corporations. These people have no way to support themselves so they have to beg for a living. I decided long ago that I would not end up like that. But you have seen to it that I did not make enough money to save anything. It took every penny that I could earn to feed and clothe my family and you people know that. You just don' t care."

"Now Mr. Bagby," the voice on the other side of the desk said, "just be careful what you say, we are doing you more than a favor ---- we could just terminate your employment and you wouldn't get anything. Is that what you want, Mr. Bagby?" The voice sounded like it came from some mechanical monstrosity from some freak sideshow.

Bagby, for all of his years had never really hated another human being more than he hated the mechanical beast that the corporation used to expedite the unwilling aged employees departure. He was a monster that was both cool and cold. When you were called to his office, there was little doubt in your mind that you would not be working there much longer. Barkley was like the grim reaper, he was the last person you generally saw on your way out the back door. Employees in the company had many names for him, none of the names had ever fitted very well into Bagbys' vocabulary.

Bagby took a good look at the person or thing, in front of him. He wanted to get one good last look at the beast that had changed his entire life with just a few words, a cruel wave of his grimy little hand and a few strokes of the pen.