Carlotta’s desk phone rang, and this being the first day of her vacation, Doug the dipshit went over and answered it. “Carlotta’s desk speaking.”

It was some suit from Inhuman Resources, calling for Lottie. I told him she’d be gone for two weeks, could I help you, and all that drivel, even had a piece of paper and a pen to write down a message, and he said, “When she returns, please direct her to come to Human Resources and pick up her severance check.”

“Excuse me? Her severance check?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m calling. We’ve received notification from the union that she’s in default on her dues, so we are contractually obligated to end her employment.” He was obviously reading from a script.

“Hey, Hamlet,” I said after a few moments of dumbfounded silence. “This is a non-union office. Nobody here is in a union. I don’t know anyone on this floor who’s in a union, or anyone in the building. We’re fired if we say the word union. I’ll probably be fired for saying ‘union’ to you. Maybe you should check such details before firing people over the phone while they’re on vacation.”

The voice — he never identified himself — said he was simply following procedures, and if our office isn’t unionized he’d need to see it in writing. I took his name and number, said I’d relay the message to Boss Darla, and didn’t say “Fuck off,” but sure wanted to.

The system says Carlotta’s stopped paying union dues, so she’s fired. Hell of a system, where management fires you for being in a union even if you’re not, and nobody doublechecks. So when Lottie’s back from vacation, she’ll have to fight for her job. What a company.

♦ ♦ ♦

There’s a zit growing on the inside of my right nostril, which makes it painful picking. One of life’s simplest pleasures, reduced by half.

Pathetic Life
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