another emotionally effective ad. Sometimes, the feeling is better than an orgasm.
Almost .
God, he loves his job.
He has no idea then that all hell is about to break loose.
2
Samantha Fox walks nervously into the reception area of her office. Over here, all hell is about to break loose as well.
Two maintenance men are in the midst of taking down the ‘LANDRY AND SONS’ sign. She knows they will replace it with the blue diamond-shaped logo of ‘SAPPHIRE’, the competitor company which had bought over her old one in a hostile coup that came slinging out of nowhere.
Fiona, the receptionist, is nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, the reception area is bustling with people she has never seen before. They carry folders, files, stacks of documents – all presumably from Sapphire. The whole office is in bustling upheaval.
What the hell is going on? Well, other than the obvious fact that they have been taken over. But she didn’t expect such a massive and sudden shift. No one in the former Landry and Sons had.
Peter Goodwin from Human Resources comes out, his face ashen. He carries a box filled with photo frames, vases and bric bracs. Sam’s heart sinks. She recognizes the silver-framed family photo of Peter, his wife and their three kids that he’d had on his desk forever.
“Peter?” Her own voice is tinny and scared.
Peter stops. His lined face wears the expression of someone who has just lost a spleen in a near-fatal car crash.
“What are they doing? Why are you clearing out your stuff?” The pitter-patter of her own pulse rises in Sam’s neck.
“They’re canning us and replacing us with people they have brought over from the parent company.” Peter swallows. “The new boss, Rutgard, is in the boardroom . . . firing people.”
“But for what? He can’t just fire people like that. Some of us have been here for over ten years. Like you, for instance.”
“I know. He’s downsizing the company. The retrenchment package they’re giving us isn’t that great either. A month’s salary for every year you’ve been here. That will last me for about ten months.” Peter jerks his head in the direction of the boardroom. “I’m sorry, Sam, but he’s looking for you too.”
Oh God oh God oh God.
Her chest cavity suddenly feels hollower than it has a right to be. Her stomach and guts clench in concert. She feels like going to the bathroom to retch, but it’s best to get this over with. Her mind runs over all the projects she has been involved with for the past few years.
Mr. Rutgard, you can’t fire me. I brought in the Gardiner account, which is, like, the biggest account this company has ever seen.
Mr. Rutgard, I would have you know that I scored ‘Excellent’ in my Leadership and Communication skills. I am an ‘ENFJ’ in my Myers-Brigg Personality Score, and I would fit very well in your new organization.
Mr. Rutgard, please! You can’t fire me! I need this job!
But as her feet plod down the passageway to the boardroom, passing familiar people whose faces are now downcast, her hopes start to spiral bottomward . . . and further down, down, down until she can hear them clink against the basement.
What is she going to do in this economy? Everywhere, companies are being downsized. People are losing jobs left, right and center.
And she had just gotten that new apartment – the one she had been dreaming about her entire life. Plunked the down payment for it in cold hard cash, and took out a loan from the Bank of America. On the guarantee that she would be able to pay for it out of her salary.
She would absolutely die if she had to give up the apartment.
Maybe she’s getting ahead of herself. Maybe she’s leapfrogging the gun. Maybe Mr. Rutgard isn’t going to be so bad. In fact, he might be so impressed by her last appraisal that he might give her a raise.
You wish.
The boardroom doors loom ahead – dark and forbidding. The colors suck her in like a black hole. Brian’s face sneaks
Almost .
God, he loves his job.
He has no idea then that all hell is about to break loose.
2
Samantha Fox walks nervously into the reception area of her office. Over here, all hell is about to break loose as well.
Two maintenance men are in the midst of taking down the ‘LANDRY AND SONS’ sign. She knows they will replace it with the blue diamond-shaped logo of ‘SAPPHIRE’, the competitor company which had bought over her old one in a hostile coup that came slinging out of nowhere.
Fiona, the receptionist, is nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, the reception area is bustling with people she has never seen before. They carry folders, files, stacks of documents – all presumably from Sapphire. The whole office is in bustling upheaval.
What the hell is going on? Well, other than the obvious fact that they have been taken over. But she didn’t expect such a massive and sudden shift. No one in the former Landry and Sons had.
Peter Goodwin from Human Resources comes out, his face ashen. He carries a box filled with photo frames, vases and bric bracs. Sam’s heart sinks. She recognizes the silver-framed family photo of Peter, his wife and their three kids that he’d had on his desk forever.
“Peter?” Her own voice is tinny and scared.
Peter stops. His lined face wears the expression of someone who has just lost a spleen in a near-fatal car crash.
“What are they doing? Why are you clearing out your stuff?” The pitter-patter of her own pulse rises in Sam’s neck.
“They’re canning us and replacing us with people they have brought over from the parent company.” Peter swallows. “The new boss, Rutgard, is in the boardroom . . . firing people.”
“But for what? He can’t just fire people like that. Some of us have been here for over ten years. Like you, for instance.”
“I know. He’s downsizing the company. The retrenchment package they’re giving us isn’t that great either. A month’s salary for every year you’ve been here. That will last me for about ten months.” Peter jerks his head in the direction of the boardroom. “I’m sorry, Sam, but he’s looking for you too.”
Oh God oh God oh God.
Her chest cavity suddenly feels hollower than it has a right to be. Her stomach and guts clench in concert. She feels like going to the bathroom to retch, but it’s best to get this over with. Her mind runs over all the projects she has been involved with for the past few years.
Mr. Rutgard, you can’t fire me. I brought in the Gardiner account, which is, like, the biggest account this company has ever seen.
Mr. Rutgard, I would have you know that I scored ‘Excellent’ in my Leadership and Communication skills. I am an ‘ENFJ’ in my Myers-Brigg Personality Score, and I would fit very well in your new organization.
Mr. Rutgard, please! You can’t fire me! I need this job!
But as her feet plod down the passageway to the boardroom, passing familiar people whose faces are now downcast, her hopes start to spiral bottomward . . . and further down, down, down until she can hear them clink against the basement.
What is she going to do in this economy? Everywhere, companies are being downsized. People are losing jobs left, right and center.
And she had just gotten that new apartment – the one she had been dreaming about her entire life. Plunked the down payment for it in cold hard cash, and took out a loan from the Bank of America. On the guarantee that she would be able to pay for it out of her salary.
She would absolutely die if she had to give up the apartment.
Maybe she’s getting ahead of herself. Maybe she’s leapfrogging the gun. Maybe Mr. Rutgard isn’t going to be so bad. In fact, he might be so impressed by her last appraisal that he might give her a raise.
You wish.
The boardroom doors loom ahead – dark and forbidding. The colors suck her in like a black hole. Brian’s face sneaks
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