FADE IN:
EXTERIOR: OFFICE PARK MORNING
Sun rising over landscaped office park. Sprinklers
raise a mist in the golden light. The voice
of an old man:
Voice Over
I was manager of this office when I was
twenty-five. Hard to believe. Grandfather
was management. Father too. Me and him was
managers at the same time, him up in Peoria
and me down here. I think he was pretty proud
of that. I know I was.
We dissolve to another view of the park.
No people, or movement.
Some of the old-time managers never even
used out-sourced labor. A lot of folks
find that hard to believe.
We dissolve through differing views of cube farms
and interior office environs all empty, some
with the lights out.
I always liked to hear about the old-
timers. Never missed a chance to do so.
You can’t help but compare yourself against the
old timers. Can’t help but wonder how they
would’ve operated these times.
CLOSE-UP a RED Swingline stapler.
The kind of dimwitted slackers apply for work
today, it’s hard to even take its measure.
Camera pans up to reveal a chubby man sitting
at the desk: Milton Waddams.
MILTON is muttering under the Voice Over.
I always knew you had to be a complete bastard
to even do this job. But I don’t want to push my
chips forward and find I downsized the wrong
character.
You could say it’s my job to destroy the souls of
these cube muppets but I don’t even want to know
what falls out when you tip the wrong HR jacket.
MILTON
mutter mutter I’ll burn the place down is
what I’ll do.
—
(Written around 2012.)
