Winston Gets Sent To The Manager’s Office

Why is there a swing set in front of the manager’s office?

Every employee of any company dreads it. Just like when you were a kid and they had the principal’s office. Except instead of threatening to call your parents, they threaten to take away your paycheck. Yes, these are the fears of being sent to the manager’s office.

I was getting bitched out by some toothless hillbilly piece of shit who couldn’t count past six if it were on a Busch light can, so basically, just a typical day. On my extremely limited and time-monitored break, some of my fellow long-suffering employees were talking about someone who just got canned after being with the company for 12 years. Now in a call center, 12 years is like 100 fucking years. Considering the normal (smart) employee lasts weeks or months, that’s a big deal. So the gossip continued and I went back to work like normal. After my shift finally ended, I heard about some more people that seemed to be randomly fired. And then some more. Considering the constant hurt for employees and the high volume of idiot callers, this was seeming pretty weird. We all gossiped about our job security and those that were now free from Telescreen, and I left to join the real world, away from the evil dungeon known as Super Department.

The next day, I was back at it, this time helping some dumbass who could barely speak English add up a bill. Then up popped a chat from one of the supervisors who told me to go to the regional manager’s office. Now I’d been in the department manager’s office a few times, like in Don’t Get Mad And Leave, but never the regional manger’s. Once the failed math lesson was over, I slowly made my way to the office of the call-center regional manager, someone I had only seen at a distance after so many years of working in Super Department. It was like the fucking Wizard of Oz or something, except the she was a weird-looking chick and not a midget.

I stepped into the office and was greeted by not only the regional manager, but the fucking GM of the call-center, the big enchilada. I also saw about six other fellow employees staring back at me, as my lateness from the failed math lesson had caused me to interrupt the GM.

She ushered me in and I found a spot leaning against the back wall. I began to look around at the most ridiculously creepy and bare office I’d ever seen. The huge office had one thing on the wall: a bachelor’s degree from a community college. This is a call-center, so that may as well have been a fucking law degree from Harvard. The computer desk had a laptop and a couple of pens. That was pretty much it.

The GM continued her worthless diatribe about how Telescreen is updating software and technology, so now has begun to “update” the workforce. It’s really fun being compared to a computer, but then again, we are paid to be mindless robots. She said the rest of the (evil asshole piece of shit) management assessed everyone in our department and decided we were all doing a great job. The people that left (aka hastily fired) were aware of their “performance issues.” Talk about a load of bullshit.

I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t seen my direct supervisor that day, and later found out she had been canned. The irony was that earlier in the day, I talked to her about moving to other positions within the company, like I always do in an effort to do anything else. It could have been minutes or hours later when she lost her job with the company. She was a pain in the ass, but all of them are anyway.

The GM finished by telling us that we all need to keep doing what we’ve been doing and work harder everyday. I don’t know how working harder than sweatshop slave laborers is possible, but I didn’t interrupt. She ended by saying her stupid and obviously canned one liner, “The future of Telescreen is in your hands.” In my hands? You mean the hands that have been tarnishing the company image for two years on this blog? Maybe I should consider revealing the real company behind the Telescreen moniker; that would definitely land me back in the manager’s office.