Company - Max Barry [31]
“Your disability is stupidity.”
“I can't help it. I mean, I tried hard at school and everything, I'm just not naturally bright.”
“It seems there is an error on your application.”
“Probably,” Freddy says. “I'm such a doofus, there are probably several.”
“Your application states that you are stupid.”
“Right.”
“We think you mean to say that Human Resources is stupid.”
“Oh, no. No, of course not.”
“You know Human Resources' policy on disabilities.”
“I . . . might have heard it somewhere.”
“You know Human Resources complies fully with state and federal law.”
“Well, I assume.”
“You know Human Resources is proud to ensure that Zephyr Holdings is an equal opportunity employer.”
“Sure.”
“You know no employee of Zephyr Holdings has ever been discriminated against on the basis of a disability.”
“I didn't, no, but that's great.”
“You know that an employee with a recognized disability limits Human Resources' natural ability to terminate that employee.”
“I guess it does,” Freddy says.
“What's seven times three?”
“Tw—” Freddy catches his tongue. That was crafty! It was Human Resources' first question. “I'm not sure, I don't have a calculator.”
“What's the opposite of east?”
“Left.”
“Which go up, stalactites or stalagmites?”
“No idea,” Freddy says, truthfully.
“Teamwork is the lifeblood of the company, true or false?”
Freddy hesitates. This feels like a trick question. No one, no matter how mentally deficient, could not know Zephyr's position on teamwork. “True.”
A pause. When the voice resumes, it is deeper, even angry. “You know no disabled employee of Zephyr Holdings has ever been discriminated against on the basis of disability.”
“You just said that.”
Silence.
“Yes,” Freddy says.
“They have been transferred.” The voice adds a slight but clearly detectable emphasis. “They have been passed over. They have been demoted. They have been docked. But they have not been discriminated against.”
He swallows. “Oh.”
“They have received promotions that carry increased responsibilities but no extra pay. They have been integrated into teams with incompatible personalities. They have been assigned projects with mutually exclusive goals. They have been made supervisor of the Social Club's finances. They have been put in charge of cleaning up the customer database. They have been asked to train graduates.”
“Okay. Look—”
“They have failed to receive recognition for their accomplishments. Rumors have sprung up about them and unattractive co-workers. Their monitors have begun to strobe. The spring-loading on their chairs has failed. Their pens have gone missing. They have been given multiple managers. They—”
“Enough!” Freddy says. “I get it, all right?”
There is a pause. A pause to savor the moment.
“What is seven times three?” the voice says.
Holly returns from lunch (a salad eaten alone at the counter of the local deli) to find East Berlin deserted. Jones is nowhere to be seen, and Freddy has vanished, too—GONE TO HUMAN RESOURCES, according to the Post-it on his monitor, but she assumes that's a joke. She sighs. She feels restless.
She gets up and walks to the watercooler. Holly is at the tail end of an eight-week aerobic plan; it's important to keep hydrated. She tugs out a paper cup, fills it, throws back her head, and keeps swallowing until she's drained it. When she lowers the cup, she is treated to the sight of Roger walking past, looking at her breasts. His eyes flick up to her face. He winks. “Holly.”
“Roger.”
He walks away. Holly puts down her cup. This is something she cannot get used to: the sheer shamelessness of businessmen. Holly doesn't want to be a bitch about it, but she doesn't understand why sagging, pot-bellied, out-of-shape assholes with overinflated senses of their own importance should think that they have a chance with her. Except that's the whole problem: within the company they are important, or at least more important than her. So a creepy, wet-lipped manager in Order Processing is entitled to flirt with her. Not to come right out and proposition her—that would be a gross