A True Story: Chapter Two

Introduction: Shortly after writing A True Story: Chapter One, the plot changed. I found another organization that exists only in your imagination and required my already-demonstrated talent for arranging unique combinations of 1s and 0s for your amusement. This organization is also at the mercy of electrical hiccups and bolts of lightning. The day after penning A True Story: Chapter One, October 1, 2010, I entered into a relationship with Organization-2 (while continuing my association with Organization-1).

With my hyperbole-detector in working order, I listened to the promises and enticements offered by Organization-2. I would be respected. I would be treated well. I would be entitled to little extras. After proving myself, I would be self-supervised. Did I think I would be disappointed? No; I don’t buy into hyperbole.

Organization-1’s recruiters assured me of their high standards; there aren’t any. Superior work is occasionally encouraged but not required. Inferior work is acceptable. Superior and inferior work are considered equal. If management finds a worker irritating, that worker disappears. Management reserves the right to disappear any employee at any time without cause or explanation. We are assured this is a universal business model.

Organization-1 began depriving workers of their only privilege. This was a threat often made, but seldom enforced. Things changed when Boss Daddy left.

Then workers started disappearing. Kool-Aid is the only beverage option in the cafeteria, and no one is permitted off-grounds for breaks or meals—it is Kool-Aid or nothing.

Boss Daddy’s replacement is an evil entity called FASMAB, not enough heart to be human, not enough brain to be machine. FASMAB is fueled by one thing, power. Not electricity. Not fossil fuels. Power over people.

FASMAB instituted a private club for Organization-1 workers. Workers are not to associate with the “disappeared.” Infractions of this mandate are punishable by “temporary disappearance” and expulsion from the club. Productive workers are demoralized. When my production dipped by 90% no one noticed. FASMAB, however, was keeping tabs on my less-than-private life.

I am not paranoid. This is a true story.