American Shutdown - Chapter 5: Where’s Bernie?
Chang Sun’s mention of Sam's Nam tour back in the early seventies reminded Sam of the chaos of it all. He was lucky if half of what was ordered for the troops made it from the docks to the field. The kid at the separation gig wouldn’t have a clue how his military experience in the military had no relationship to a plant shut down.
It wasn’t shut downs happening in epidemic proportion that were the problem. It was the novice, robotic baby faces like Chang called in to do the corporate weenies’ dirty work that were the problem. As he turned into his office his watch read 2 PM. He was happy to see the furniture was still in the room.
Sam was reluctant to call Peg for a third time. At her workplace the bosses really hated their workers making personal calls on company time. Peg thought that they cruised the open cubicles so that they could catch them on a personal call in order to build a case for dismissal. She thought it was a plot to size-down the older office staff.
Sam thought she was paranoid. But, now, he could relate to her situation. Judas priest, $35 an hour with no benefits, a paranoid wife and on top of everything, a missing Bernie.
Bernie was known to have his PTSD moments. He had served two tours in Iraq. When he returned, like many Viet Nam vets who went before him, he didn’t want to talk about his time there. The Marines paid for his technical education. He specialized in computer science that turned out to be basically worthless in the modern high tech world facing him on the outside. Not being able to find a solid well-paying job, he slid into depression and casual drugs.
It was when Bernie gave himself up to a 12 step program and found his particular brand of religion he began to study modern computer network communications technology. Ultimately it helped land a job at M-Mtek.
Bernie kept the world-wide operations of M-Mtek’s plants and offices talking to one another from his large office and server rooms down the hall from Sam. Sam wondered if Bernie was going to be asked to stay-on to run the networks during the shutdown.
Where the hell was he, anyway?
First, Sam had to give Peg an update. “Peg. Hey, it’s me. Just got my separation package. They want to call me back starting tomorrow as a contract temp to help with the shutdown and move. Some kid named Chang gave me the rundown. What do you think?”
After a slight lull, Peg answered, ”Tomorrow? Why didn’t they just keep you on?”
“It’s probably got something to do with only wanting to pay $35 per hour with no benefits. The kid said it’s a sign of the times. What can I say?” Sam answered.
“Well, what can I say,” Peg snapped back. “I told you about these bastards. This was coming for a long time. It’s what you want to do that counts.”
“I’m leaning toward taking the deal. Probably shouldn’t go out with the guys, tonight, if I have to show up at eight tomorrow morning. Right?” Sam responded.
“Yeah, I’m with you. Maybe I should come over there after work and we can go out for a last supper,” she said with a sarcastic tone.
“Great idea. Maybe you can come early and hang with me until they escort us to the door. Think the bosses will let you out early to beat the rush on the 95?” Sam offered.
“OK, I’ll try. Gotta go now. One of the office hall monitors is due to come by, soon. Luv ya,” Peg closed.
Sam took an old M-Mtek tote bag from his office crap pile to use for packing his company-owned stuff. It took a while to delete all the personal data and photos from the laptop, tablet and cell phone. He wondered if they wanted the communications hardware and software and decided to only throw in the software discs, modems and drives.
It was almost 3 PM when Bernie poked his head in the doorway and in a tired voice said, “Hey, did you miss me?”
Sam winked and said, “Nope, nobody missed you. But, you better get on the stick. They want all their stuff by three in the third floor conference room. And, you still have to pick up your separation package. I wasn‘t able to get it. They shuffled me off to another line before I could get it at the regular table.”
Bernie advised, “Yeah, I figured that you were redirected. It’s OK. I got the package. I’m going back out to the car to dump it. I’ll come back to pack the stuff. I got more than what they’ll be able to handle. I think they forgot what I really do around here. Gonna need direction. Bye. See ya soon,” Sam mumbled as he sped off.
“Bernie! Bernie,” Sam called out as he went to look down the hall only to see Bernie walking quickly to the end stairwell with his separation package under arm. Bernie disappeared into the stairwell without looking back at him.
Sam stepped inside his office hoping Bernie wasn’t having one of his bouts with depression. It was time to go to the 3 o’clock strip-down. He grabbed his tote bag and proceeded to the second floor where there was a line of his longtime co-workers forming at the conference room door. It reminded him of the endless formation of lines in the military. Many of them were lines to nowhere.
The patter in line at the 3 o’clock strip-down party was that M-Mtek might be going belly-up. The shutdown might be a desperate attempt to stem the tide of competition from the Pacific Rim and Mexico doing work for the big guys in the micro-medical device market. The big guys were buying-up the best smaller companies and making them more profitable by absorbing their overheads and maximizing off-shore production. The cost savings increased by melding new companies with their own supply chain networks, buying power and customer bases.
Sam didn’t feel like getting involved in any of the conversations. Damn, he thought, this is really starting to sink in. Maybe the best thing would be to get out of M-Mtek and start fresh. Then he remembered he was 59 years old. Who the hell was going to hire a 59 year old medical device design engineer with a degree from the ‘70’s?
When Sam got through the doorway he noticed the workers at the tables taking-in the company property were all wearing company polo shirts with an awfully designed logo for something called TechCall Services. My God, he thought. How many ways can you latch on to the tech mantra. What a world.
He had made it up to the spread of tables facing another young gal wearing her industrial gray TechCall shirt. She greeted him with, “Your name, sir, please.”
“Sam, er, Samuel, Palermo. Sir Samuel Palermo, at your service,” he said with a smile to the good looking young lady.
Without raising her head she asked Sam, “Mr. Palermo, did you leave any M-Mtek major supplies or equipment you used for personal business in your office?”
“Nope,” Sam said, noticing she was glued to a prepared spiel in front of her.
She went on, “Are all your non-M-Mtek personal items packed?”
This time, Sam called her by the scrolled name on her company shirt, “I think my M-Mtek coffee mug is still unpacked. Is that Ok, Marsha?”
That remark got the TechCall gal’s attention. She looked up to advise him that he better make sure he packed the mug before they took him to the door at six. She also mentioned they had teams taking photo inventories of the vacated offices at they spoke.
Sam asked her if he could get a set of the photos for “old times sake.’ He also asked her if he had to wash the cup before handing it in.
She sat stone-faced and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked those questions before. Do you want me to ask about them?”
Sam told her, “No, Marsha. You don’t mind if I call you Marsha, do you? Every convicted man should know the name of their executioner.”
She glanced down at her marching orders and said, “Well, that’s about it. All your network equipment should be disabled when you get back. One of our staffers will meet you at your office before six to accompany you to the door. I’m so sorry about this, but try to think of it as a new beginning for you. Thanks so much for your attention and time.”
Sam left the cafeteria thinking, “Bingo. ‘new beginning.’ I made the call on that one.”
Typical techie working in the dark
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American Shutdown by Benjamin F. Campanelli
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