Sunday, October 18, 2009

A Chapter

It's the company's privacy, not yours. Why would you care? I mean, we make...monkeys? Ballistic missiles? Squirrels? What the hell does our company make, really? I mean, I never really thought about the big picture – what are my clear and concise instruction booklets instructing people to do? I mean, I get a "Operate Roving Bands of Monkeys" assignment, but what are the monkeys for? To kill what? They must kill something if I have to cross reference my docs with armory. Are we an evil company? Or are we peace keepers.

I always get poor marks on my reviews for "Sees the big picture." I never really cared, I mean, as long as I can go home at the end of the day with enough money to buy some beer or a gram or a hotpocket.

But, even as I try to fathom what roving monkeys and Planetary Annihilation departments might do, my tunnel vision comes back as I realize I have to distract the service technician as I take down my multiple games of Solitaire.

"Uh, could you grab me that chair?" I'm climbing out from under my desk, and trying to take an error of authority as I plan a strategic window take down.

I think in my head – I have no Word programs or Monkey Interface protocols up, that's step two.

Step one is taking down the three games of Solitaire, the window with my blog in it, the CNN home page, and the Party Poker page that's probably bleating purple and green because my AMEX is now maxed.

"I don't need a chair." The service technician is all business, and all he has to do is bump the desk and my "All Work and No Play..." screen saver pixelates out into the furthest reaches of cyberville and "Nine Hundred Thousand Dead in Martian Tsunami" appears, along with the notification that I've managed to blow 123, 485 dollars in the first two hours of my work day.

"Yes, but I like to put my feet up."

"You put your feet up? How do you fit the other chair under the desk?"

"Look, could you just –" He grabs the chair and with fingers of fury I close


Party Poker

Solitaire 1

Solitaire 2

"Huh, good game of solitaire?"


"Yeah, it was up from my break."

"You get in at six?"

"Yes." I lie.

"Sure. Let's just do this. Can you take clean up your, huh..workspace and logoff?"

"Sure." I'm embarrassed and I shouldn't be. Like no one fucks off at work. In fact, I just read a CNN poll that stated 9 out of 10 Dynacorp personnel fuck off for at least two hours a day. And, it's been almost two hours since I've been here, so maybe my workday starts at 10 and goes on to five in breakneck power working.

"K, you wanna go read a book or something? This might take several minutes."

"Sure. Wait. Why are you reconfiguring the computer again?" I try not to sound paranoid.

"What? Everyone's getting reconfigured."

"Yeah, but what exactly does the reconfiguring do? How does it benefit me?"

"Well, it probably won't help your Solitaire game."

"Cute. Look, if you could just explain it, maybe I'd appreciate the service a little more."

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