Compliance
Another day, another dollar! After taxes, you are lucky if you bring home 30 cents. No amount of compensation covers the stress of the job. Emotional strain devours our energy, making us appear to have dismissed our physical health. We act as metal and circuits, denying our human frailties.
I don’t want to go to work. Call it depression, anxiety, or straight-up ‘over it.’ Then, that internal alarm clock goes off seconds before the wailing alarm. I drag myself out of bed, grab a coffee, and sit at the computer reading my email.
An email invites staff to meet and discuss ‘Improvement of the Workplace.’ Oh, are you sure you want me to be there? Bet your ass I will be there; I have plenty to say. I have so many suggestions and lots of choice phrases for them. At least one, kiss my ass.
The extensive training room is the typical location for company meetings. There is a large white screen at the front of the room for team leaders to share their computer screens. The tables are set up similarly to a classroom — rows of three tables with two chairs at each table. There are a total of twelve tables. Due to the space and staffing, the administration team scheduled this meeting for five different days and times. You can bet I am front and center in session one.
Clicking my pen, I impatiently wait for this shit storm to hit. One by one, team members come in and sit. You can tell when people don’t find meetings useful or have better things to do as they sit in the back of the room. Seriously? Take this chance to force your voice and express your thoughts. Don’t just sit on your ass, roll your eyes, and bitch around the water cooler.
And so it begins. The team leader and the higher-ups walk in with poise and authority. Or maybe that is my perception of their pompous asses. They take their positions at the front of the room, looking like a firing squad. The head executive starts, “We want to know how we can improve this company. We have asked you here to voice your opinions and constructive suggestions. In front of each of you is a pen and paper. We would like you to write your ideas down. We will carefully review each and then pick three of the best. You have ten minutes — begin now.”
What, I thought we were here to voice our opinions? What a waste of time. These pieces of paper will undoubtedly end up in the garbage. Oh well, I’ll write my shit down. They’ll get an eyeful, that’s for sure.
The timer pierced the stale silence, “Put your papers in the basket by the door on your way out. You have a fifteen-minute break.”
As I suspected, the team members bitch around the water cooler. I spend the 15 minutes anticipating the outcome and wishing I did write for them to kiss my ass — my entire ass!
I am the first to return to the room, and the large screen has a picture that appears to be 3-D. Some swirls circle throughout the image. There is very subtle music playing — it is almost hypnotic.
Each team member sat in the seats they chose when they arrived. A man stood in front of the room, “I am Dr. Delgato. You may have heard of my Uncle and are familiar with his work in physiology. I am here to improve your success in this career.”
I look around the room, and my co-workers all look sedated — expressionless. They are listening with unusual interest and no whispering between them.
Our esteemed — do you hear the sarcasm? Mr. Randell stands before us, “We have reviewed all of your comments and suggestions. We agree that staff morale is low, and we will see a change by the end of this meeting.”
I don’t know what is happening here, but everyone in the room is under a spell. I want to say, “Hello, just what the hell is happening, but something tells me to keep my mouth shut. The room was quiet — you could hear a pin drop. Everyone focuses on the screen, I look at it, and it’s more annoying than transfixing. You can bet your ass I will play along and act like everyone else in this room.
Dr. Delgato says, “Clear your minds, listen to my voice and open your mind to me.” I want to get out of here but don’t dare move. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.
Dr. Delgato continues, “Your job is a priority. Nothing comes ahead of your dedication and desire to work. You enjoy following instructions. Without hesitation or question, you will do the requested tasks. You are an army of content workers.” With that, the screen and music stopped.
“Thank you for coming. Thank you for being a part of the Workforce Coalition. Return to your duties,” with a smug look on his face, he continues, “May your passion for work be our success.” He then motions everyone to leave.
One by one, in a single file, everyone was leaving. “Except for you, Miss. Kaitlyn. We would like for you to stay back.” My heart is racing.
The door is closed behind my co-workers. A couple of goons in white lab coats grab me and pin me to the ground, “Relax, you will soon enjoy your job.” They drag me to a side room while kicking, biting, and screaming.
Dr. Delgato tells his lackeys to strap me onto the surgical table. “Miss. Kaitlyn, you will feel much better when you wake up,” and he injected me with a burning liquid.
Strapped to a table with IVs running into my veins and electrodes pasted to my head. I asked, “Why?”
Dr. Delgado takes his time but replies, “You are the chosen team leader. You defied the most intensive of hypnosis. Therefore with that mind, you will get the job done.”
Before passing out, I heard myself saying, this is bullshit.
I woke up at home in my bed with a pounding headache. Bruises up and down my arms and legs from needles and the straps. The headache still tortures my brain. I told Crisco, my cat, “I don’t want to go back to work.”
Something triggered a sharp electric sting in my head. “Crisco, I must go to work. I am the team leader. I must get the job done.”
Arriving at the door, Mr. Randell and Dr. Degalo greeted me, “Good morning.”
“I must get to work. I must get the job done. I am the team leader,” I pushed past them and went to my office.
The staff was busily working. Carrying papers, files, and briefcases in a programmed style — no talking, no complaining around the water cooler — fixated on getting the job done.
A zip of electrical current ran through my head — I must get the job done.
I am a robotic-like human who “Must get the job done.”
Dr. Delgato, “I have surpassed my Uncle’s infantile trials. Hypnosis and microchip behavioral perfection.”
Mr. Randell, “Finally, an efficient workforce.”
THE END
Maryann Lindquist & Mojha R. MacDowell
2021
