Ok, a big thanks to Virginia Lee for hosting the third edition of the Absolute Write flash fiction carnival and for kicking me up the butt to write this piece. It’s very important to snap out of the post-Howard euphoria and remember that there’s still capitalism after Howard and there’s still stories to write about how shit capitalism is under Rudd too, because, if I may go on a tangent before delving into my flash fiction, those that don’t get elected are the real architects behind this shit system, the CEOs and business leeches like Kerry Packer, Rupert Murdoch, Bill Gates, Donald Trump and my best mate, Allan Moss, the $33 million dollar man.
“Coming for a beer, Jason?” he asked me. That’s him, a different guy to the guy I knew six months before.
I would’ve had a beer with the guy I knew six months before, but not the guy I know now. Some people try to tell me he’s the same guy, just moved up in the world, “the hard work’s paid off for him.” It’s all bullshit. He’s changed, mutated even.
I once worked with a guy that would turn up late with me every morning, then go out and have coffee for two hours. Now I work with a guy who turns about one hour early and has coffee at his desk.
This guy used to come out for lunch with me for two hours and we’d play arcade games instead of going back to work. This new guy, that they think is the same, eats lunch at his desk and might read the Business Review Weekly.
This same guy I used to work with really did barely 15 minutes of work a day. This new guy spends all day and night in his office. I still leave half an hour early.
“Jason,” he repeats, “You coming out for a beer?”
“No, not with you. You’ve changed. You’re not the person I know.”
“Will you come for a beer if you know that not going will mean you don’t come in on Monday?”
“The boss blackmailing his workers for friends. You really have changed.”
He stood up with anger, he was about to snap, “Don’t give me that boss v workers bullshit. I haven’t treated you any different since I got promoted. It’s only you.”
I fell on the floor laughing. I could even gain enough air to respond.
“What is it? What’s so fucking funny?” Little veins popped in his foreheard. “Name one thing that I’ve done.”
I stood up and tossed my termination letter on his desk. “Did you sign this?” It was signed by him. It said I was fired and not to come in Monday.
“You fire your best mate,” I mimed quotation marks in the air, “Forget that is was him that you fired because all employees are just numbers to you now and then expect me to have drinks with you just like old times. Get fucked.”
I go to walk out as he says, “I didn’t realize that was you. I thought it was another Brad.”
“See, can’t even remember my fucking name, you’ve changed so much.
flash fiction, absolute write, management