Phantom of the Agency
Quiet as hell…
This morning I perused two recently vacated offices looking for, I don’t know: some hidden note from the newly departed, secret photos, contraband! But no, just the usual paperclips, pens and a few semi-current briefs. It’s like Dick and Jane were never here.
As expected, the folks on high remain in their corners. Backed up, full of fear, they held on to their positions, burrowing into the many papers of their padded contracts. Alas, they were untouchable, too costly to remove.
We are called rank and file because we can be ranked and filed. And many were. Put into brown boxes out on the loading dock. Gone, baby, gone!
Maybe we are all mirages of dutiful, happy employees? I feel like a phantom now, haunting empty hallways, looking for remnants.
Back in my office I surf the web, recklessly cavorting with naked ladies. But that violates company policy. Like handing out bonuses after the body count. Whoever is left in IT probably has more pressing issues, like updating the agency’s Facebook page: “Check out our awesome new space at cocktail hour!”
Like it never happened. Like all is well. Well, children, “our awesome new space” just got bigger. Scream and you’ll hear an echo.
Chicago Psycho 