“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go,” said Mr. Edward J. Flakes, Manager of Welkin’s Metal Products.
The small woman, in her late fifties, who sat so demurely in the padded chair in front of his sprawling desk, began to shed silent tears. “Please, Mr. Flakes. Please give me one more chance.”
“You know our policy, Mrs. Emmerton. During the last reorganization your job position was eliminated. And frankly, we have no place for you here at Welkin’s Metal Products.”
Mr. Flakes leaned over to the intercom and mumbled something into the mike. “Don’t bother returning to your office, Mrs. Emmerton. Your personal effects have been boxed and are awaiting you at the door.”
Presently two security guards walked inside. “Please escort Mrs. Emmerton off the premises,” he said. “She is no longer employed here.”
“Yes, Mr. Flakes,” replied a security guard, “we’ll see to everything.”
“If you’ll come with us Ma’am?” asked a guard.
Mrs. Emmerton didn’t even look up, but turned and shuffled out the door, a broken woman, a security guard at each shoulder. All she could think about was her lost job, the house payment, the credit card debt, her daughter’s school expenses, and the problems she would encounter starting over in a job market where few were hiring elderly shop coordinators.
But with the series of force reductions and reorganizations she had previously survived at Welkin’s Metal Products, this layoff didn’t really surprise her. Still, it was a blow, and she knew that the local job prospects were not good. With continued globalization and open trade policies, most manufacturing jobs in her city had moved outside the country, and she had been fortunate to hang on this long. The only jobs left were service level, though most paid less than half what she made now, and the good ones were scarce indeed. Mrs. Emmerton sighed, and resigned herself to the inevitable. She would survive somehow.
In contrast, Mr. Flakes knew it had to be done, though he didn’t really enjoy it. Still, he had an obligation to the Board of Directors and to the stockholders to continue policies that increased profit and stock prices. In fact, he was scheduled next week to give a division wide talk about how this was the last reorganization for the company, and that those left had no need to worry about their jobs.
In the coming week, he gave the speech, and everything went well, though a few asked him point blank if there were going to be any more layoffs.
“Of course, not. Ted, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Mr. Flakes made a mental note of the man. “Your jobs are all secure. We are now a lean, mean organization, and with this new restructuring, you can all be confident that the jobs at Welkin’s Metal Products will be here for a long time to come.”
What Mr. Flakes failed to mention was just where those jobs would be exactly and who would be working in them.
That night Mr. Flakes called his wife to let her know he would be late. He told her that he had a lot of work to do, and not to expect him home before midnight.
“And, don’t worry about dinner, Honey,” he said. “I’ll just step out for a bite to eat.”
“Very well, Dear,” she replied. “Don’t work too hard.”
“Ok, I won’t. Bye Honey,” and he hung up.
Next, he dialed the number of his mistress. It rang three times and then she picked up.
“Hello?” he heard the familiar voice.
“Hey, Hun, it’s me. We’re on for Beldorgios at six. Right? Meet you there.”
“Ok. See you then. By Sweetheart.”
The dinner was great, and Glenda looked magnificent. She wore his favorite low cut dress, and his eyes couldn’t help but wander over those bare shoulders and lower, in anticipation of this evening’s activities. He mentioned the speech he had made today at the company, and how well it had gone.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “You always were a good speaker. You work well with people, Ed.”
“Thanks, Dear.”
“Do you think you will get that promotion soon?” she asked.
“It’s only a matter of time, Honey. And, then we can be together.”
“Then will you tell your wife about us?”
“Of course. With this promotion, I’ll be in top management, making a serious six-figure income. And, I’ll get a golden parachute if anything goes wrong. But now, it’s just too risky. But, soon, Honey, soon.”
Glenda smiled and held his hand. If his wife wasn’t beautiful enough to keep her husband, she thought, it wasn’t her fault. Besides, Edward J. Flakes deserved someone better, a wife that would back his advancement potential. In fact, some day he might make General Director, with the proper incentive from the right women, herself namely.
Glenda and Edward left the restaurant after about an hour, and made their way to her apartment, where Mr. Flakes enjoyed the benefits of money, prestige, and women. Miss. Glenda Sabowski was an excellent lover, in her late twenties, attractive, and very responsive in bed.
Edward thought he couldn’t have found a better mistress. Of course, how long he would actually keep her was another matter. A messy divorce with his wife could cost him millions. It was best for things to remain just the way they were, with a content wife and an eager mistress. When he got promoted, then Mr. Edward J. Flakes would need to reconsider his different romance options.
He arrived at home around midnight, took a shower, and snuggled into a warm bed. “How did things go, Dear?” his wife asked.
“Just fine,” he said, and kissing her, relaxed and drifted off into sleep. He was very tired, and for a man in his fifties, two hours of satisfying his mistress left little for a late night tryst with his wife.
Life continued as normal for Mr. Edward J. Flakes. Third quarter profits improved, and people were scared to complain about anything for fear of their job being outsourced. It was a great time to be a general manager. But, good times can’t last forever, as many philosophers have quoted down through the ages.
And, so it was with Mr. Flakes, as one day he was called into a general meeting with upper management. Edward was nervous. Usually general meetings of this sort did not portend good news. But, he arrived on time with a smile on his face.
He sat down at the end of the long table, and a steward served him coffee and a bagel. He wasn’t very hungry, but decided eating a little might settle his nerves. Ed noticed that there were a lot of big wigs in the room, including the Vice President of Domestic Affairs. He seemed to be a policy maker of great import, and Edward wondered if another reorganization was in the pipeline. He wasn’t too far off.
After the reading of notes from the last meeting, President Malker promptly got down to business. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve invited you to today’s meeting.” Each person looked around at the other managers, nodding their heads in agreement.
“Well, we have just finished a major restructuring evaluation, and felt we needed to inform our middle managers of the results.
“As you all know, business has been good, but not good enough. We need to take complete advantage of the global marketplace in labor cost return, and have decided to move the rest of our production facilities overseas.
“Now, Frank,” and the President pointed to a middle aged man with a worried look on his face. “I am sorry, but your division has been moved to our Chinese facility. Your services will no longer be needed.”
“But, but,” said the man, flabbergasted.
“Guards, would you escort him off the premises?”
Indeed, Edward saw a number of guards now standing outside the conference room entrance. “You will find your personal effects outside the building.”
Five men were let go each in turn, the guards escorting them out the door. Some put up a protest, but it all ended the same, and they left the room, many with curses upon their lips.
Mr. Edward J. Flakes looked around and realized he was one of the few middle managers left. Unfortunately, two guards still remained outside the conference room door.
“And, Mr. Flakes, your position has also been terminated, as our Indian division will now perform the metal fabrication that your facility provided. Mr. Lecher will tend to the individual layoffs of your remaining employees. You are hereby dismissed.”
Edward could only mumble something unintelligible as the guards escorted him out onto the street next to the boxes of his personal effects. He saw others also being evicted, and finally another ex-employee helped him get his stuff to his car. Mr. Flakes couldn’t even remember the man’s name, but thanked him anyway.
He drove home in his expensive Mercedes with the leather interior and the thirty thousand dollar loan to find that when it rains, it often pours. The house was empty except for a few personal items, and on the kitchen counter were divorce papers from his wife of sixteen years.
Frantically, he started checking his assets. Some accounts were empty, drained by his wife, while others were frozen, pending the outcome of the divorce settlement. He tried calling his mother-in-law, and she cursed him for being a two-timing unfaithful husband, and hung up on him.
That night Mr. Flakes didn’t get much sleep. In the coming weeks he tried to locate his wife, to get the proceedings dropped, but she was adamant. She had known of his philandering for years, and she would give him no second chance.
The only good thing that happened was that his mistress moved into the house, to take over the position of wife. The divorce was not final yet, but when it was, she was determined to marry him.
However, as the months passed, Mr. Edward J. Flakes found that middle management positions were scarce indeed. Welkin’s Metal Products were not the only companies globalizing, shipping the jobs to cheap overseas labor markets.
Glenda was now footing most of the bills for Edward while he searched for a new high paying position. Six months later the house went into foreclosure proceedings, and Glenda declared she was sick of paying the bills while he did nothing.
“I’m trying, Honey,” he said. “But, there are no jobs left! I can’t even get an interview.”
“You’re pathetic,” she said. “You’re supposed to be the big General Manager. Well, where’s that job now? Where, huh?”
“India,” he said, “India.”
“Then maybe you’d better move there, because I’m moving out. Good luck, Edward.”
Mr. Edward J. Flakes never saw her again. Three weeks later a repo-man took his Mercedes, and he was forced to use local bus transportation to make the few interviews he could glean. But, they all saw the high salary he made before, and each and every one returned a letter stating that they did not have a position that fit his unique qualifications.
His divorce was finally concluded, and Mr. Flakes found that the judge wasn’t very considerate of his circumstances. He ordered most of the remaining assets to his wife, including his home. So, it was with some satisfaction that he watched the sheriff auction off his home to the bank two months later, his possessions sitting on the sidewalk.
Then the police informed him that if he did not remove the boxes and furniture from the sidewalk by the next evening, he would be fined for littering, and possibly arrested. Edward wondered if perhaps he could obtain a job in law enforcement, but realized that he was too old.
His stock and investments were gone; either used to pay his lawyer, or awarded to his ex-wife. The bank accounts were drained, credit cards frozen, and his total money amounted to fifty-five dollars in his pocket. The bank had even threatened to sue for the remaining debt on his house if they did not sell it for a high enough price.
He moved a few of his possessions to a local mission, and paid forty dollars for a cot and an address. Mr. Edward J. Flakes no longer sought a high paying position. In fact, he no longer sought even a moderate paying one. He ate with the overflowing of humanity at the soup kitchen, thankful for the food.
And, almost like a miracle, mission director Benedict got him a job at a local fast food restaurant. The assistant manager, a foreign national by the name of Mr. Getterman, put Edward to work at the fryer, and it was with great relief when he finally earned the right to man the counter.
After a few months, Edward started to entertain thoughts of asking for a promotion, but seeing the many desperate people on the streets outside who would love to have his position, he decided against it. Mr. Flakes considered himself lucky just to have this job opportunity in the food service industries, for Americans still had to eat, and the food was cheap, if not filling.
And, every once in a while Edward would pick up the financial section of the paper that he found in a trash can, and read the stock values of Welkin’s Metal Products. The last time he checked they were up over thirty percent.
Mr. Flakes realized that America was well on it’s way to becoming a segregated society, a society separated not by race, religion or ethnic origin, but by money. Edward knew he had contributed to that condition, but felt he had no choice. It was just his bad luck of losing his wife at about the same time his company decided Mr. Flakes would not be one of the haves in society.
Still, Edward had faith in America, and the American dream. After all, things couldn’t get any worse, could they?
Another customer approached the counter in ragged clothes. He looked like many others commonly seen these days, dirty, unkempt, and either out of work or stuck in dead end jobs. Still, Ed pasted a smile on his face and greeted the customer, getting his order.
“And, would you like fries with that?” he asked.