Company - Max Barry [80]
“There's going to be a run on office chairs,” Elizabeth muses. “We should stock up. Maybe we could sell them to other employees at a markup.”
“When Staff Services work becomes available, we have to tender for it. The lowest tender gets the job. And we pay for all expenses ourselves! He's turned us into subcontractors!”
“Oh,” Jones says. “That sounds bad.”
Freddy grinds his forehead with the heel of his hand. “All I ever wanted was a little job somewhere with no accountability. Somewhere I could do what they asked me, more or less, and not have to wonder if every day is going to be my last. Is that too much to ask? Is it?”
“What's going on?” Holly says, appearing beside Jones.
“Holly! Back me up here. Is this Accountability Program the worst idea you've ever heard or what?”
“Um . . . no, I think it's all right.”
Freddy gapes. “All right? All right?”
“Why shouldn't we be responsible for our own expenses? You know Lianne? She always photocopies like a dozen pages before she gets it right. And that guy in Procurement, who used to do nothing but e-mail jokes all day. Why should I subsidize people like that?”
“Subsidize? When did you start talking like a manager?”
Holly shifts from one foot to the other.
Freddy says, “Oh, no.”
“I'm running the gym now.” She licks her lips. “I don't know if I'll still sit here or not, but . . . I'm running the gym.”
Freddy sags in his chair. “This is a disaster.”
“Boy,” Holly says, nettled. “Thanks for the congratulations. Remind me to get excited when you tell me your new roles.”
“Nobody's getting new roles,” Elizabeth says dully. “Nobody but you.”
“Oh,” Holly says.
“Oh,” Freddy says. “Oh yeah, gee, I wonder why Roger's handing out special favors to Holly. Let me think. Hmm.”
Holly's eyes widen. “Yeah? Why?”
“It wouldn't be because you told him about a certain donut, would it?”
Elizabeth's eyes leap to Holly. Holly's cheeks flush.
“Oh, God,” Elizabeth says.
“He was going to find out anyway,” Holly says, her voice rising. “Look, I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but he was going to find out. He's obsessed.”
Suddenly a Klaxon tears through the room. The bulb in the ceiling cage bursts into life, throwing swirling sheets of orange light over the cubicles. In an instant level 11 resembles the scene of major roadworks. Jones jumps. “What the hell?”
Everybody peers over the cubicle walls. In between stabbing flashes from the orange light, they see the TV screen:
TENDERS INVITED
JOB #0000001
TASK
Reallocation and auction of cubicle space
(level 11)
DETAILS AVAILABLE FROM STAFF SERVICES PA
“It's work.” Freddy's voice trembles. “Work.”
Cautiously, employees drift out of their cubicles to stare at the monitor. Then, one by one, glancing at each other warily, they head for Roger's PA.
“Look at them!” Freddy stares in disgust. “Everyone ready to beat each other out for a pay packet. You know what, I'm not going to tender. What happened to sticking together? What happened to teamwork?” He gives Holly a dirty look.
“Hey,” Holly says. “You know what Roger told me? He said there's no such thing as teamwork. It's a con. The company doesn't promote teams. If you want to get ahead, you have to screw everybody else and look after yourself. Co-workers are competitors. Roger told me the truth: there's no I in team, but there's no U, either!” There is silence. Holly's chest rises and falls. Her cheeks flush. “But . . . I really am sorry, Elizabeth.”
“Maybe now he knows, he'll forget about it.” She looks away.
“I bet he does,” Holly says. “Honestly, you know, that wouldn't surprise me.”
Freddy stares at her.
“I'm sure everything will be okay,” Holly says. Her voice is so plaintive that Jones has to look away.
In the lobby, Gretel has a migraine from the flashing switchboard lights. She shouldn't even be here: this morning she called in sick, but a woman in Human Resources and Asset Protection sucked air through her teeth and said, “Oh, dear . . .”
“What?” said Gretel, but suddenly she was listening to a traffic report on the state of I-5. She closed her eyes, sitting on the