I am in the Totem Pole Company lunchroom, pushing a threadbare O'Cedar back and forth across a sticky, filth-blackened floor.
The mop is too worn-out to do much more than move the dirt around in streaks, but I figure that if I scrub long enough -- and hard enough -- I'm eventually going to cut through the motor oil and the dog poop and the old gum and the scuff marks, and see some actual *floor* again.
Just then the Human Resources Director Person comes into the lunchroom. "Franz wants you to use THIS instead," she says ... and she hands me a small plastic hairbrush.
"Are you serious?" I cry in dismay. "That's going to take ten times as long!"
But the HRDP is adamant. That's the way Franz wants it done.
Furious and frustrated, I toss the mop onto the floor. "Fine!" I say. "If that's the way *Franz* wants it done, then he can do it himself. I quit." And I pick up a glass beer stein, filled with orange juice, and slam it across the room. It shatters against the far wall of the lunchroom.
Last week, while Franz was safely out of town for a couple of days attending the CELSOC convention in Monterey, I went into his office and literally swept his desktop clean.
I feel terrible about quitting my job in such a dramatic and unprofessional fashion ... plus, I'm feeling *lonely* for my little Isolation Booth, and my view of the Tribune Tower, and my beloved three-hole punch ... so I return to the Totem Pole Company.
"Maybe if I just try to explain how frustrating it can be, trying to clean up after Franz," I tell myself, "they'll give me my job back."
But when I stop by the production room to pick up my mail, I notice that my name has already been removed from the mailbox slot next to Franz'. And when I walk back to the Corporate section of the office and try to unlock my office door, I discover that my key no longer works.
The Human Resources Director Person isn't in her office across the hall, so I decide to call and leave her a voicemail.
Her message kicks in immediately ... but instead of her familiar voice, it is an automated *robot voice* that answers. "You've reached the Human Resources Director Person," it says. "Once you quit your job here at the Totem Pole Company, we are no longer allowed to speak to you." And the voicemail clicks off before I have a chance to leave a reply.
Sadly, I turn around and head for the elevator.
End of dream.
about a year ago