The Grinder

In this not-so-flattering vignette, we see Fran struggle with people and the games corporations seem to love playing. Indeed, struggle is all too real, and it goes to prove a point of sorts. Work is a bitch.

"Gotta love The Grind™," they say with a straight face devoid of joy or any semblance of the love they seem to profess. "I'll let you get back to it. Just wanted to share that with you."

The ageless, faceless, gender neutral, culturally appropriate wage slave now walking away has just told Fran that they caught wind of whispers from on high that there might be a Re-Structuring™ in the near future.  Indeed, such Re-Structuring events are common in the corporate world across all possible industries. But it has never happened here. At the Totally Real Company. And now Fran has to worry that she's going to be part of the terror that will come when the Re-Structuring happens. Whether she's one of the "lucky" or "unlucky" – no telling which is which – Re-Structuring, she hears, is always a major stressor.

"What's that got to do with The Grind?" Fran wonders as she makes her way back to her desk from the coffee station situated next to Dave's office. He keeps it set up there so he can watch, tracking each person's breaks and relative coffee intake. Fran suspects he also keeps it there so he doesn't have to feel lonely during the work day with everyone coming and going near his office door, but she'll never tell him that.

Fran returns to her seat and sets into her late afternoon tasks. It's not long into it that she notices something different about the work. She tries to shrug off the feeling that something isn't quite right, but as anyone who's been there knows, you can't easily shrug off a feeling of unease. It usually slides down your back like a greasy cheeseburger from a busy corner stand and settles on your gut in much the same way. So Fran does something she never does and turns to her phone in the middle of work hours. She puts in earbud style headphones and opens Spotify to her personal "calm" playlist that she usually reserves for Sunday nights to prepare herself for Monday. Mondays are The Worst™.

"With the music playing," Fran mumbles to herself, "I'll surely be able to get my mind off things."

Of course, minutes pass as the most generic smooth jazz renditions of old Beatles standbys fill her ears, and instead of feeling better, Fran finds that burger feeling creeping closer and closer to her stomach. It becomes a pressure that must be relieved, but she keeps holding it in.

"There's work to do, Fran," her shakily defiant voice struggles with every phoneme as a toddler would, "so put on your big girl panties and —"

"Franny. You okay?" Dave's voice interrupts her thoughts, feelings, and attempted proclamation of strength, and Fran tries to feign reason, sanity, calm.

"Wh– what was that?" She struggles with the earbud a moment as she tries to get her words together. "I'm just trying to —"

Not interrupted this time. No Fran's words just stop dead in her mouth. She's able to pry open her jaw and flap her lips, but the words just won't come out. She can't even get her larynx to contract enough to groan, let alone form words, so she just sits there looking up at Dave with her mouth moving, communicating nothing but distress.

"Fran. I'm not sure I understand the game here. Do you want to step into my office?" Dave is clearly concerned, and Fran's worried that fighting about the matter is probably the opposite of the correct choice, so she offers a shallow nod and struggles to her feet.

They make it into Dave's office, where he closes the door and offers Fran his nice chair instead of the glorified rock he puts his employees into when he's doing their performance reviews. This time, he takes that for himself and situates both chairs on the same side of the desk so he can properly comfort the nearly catatonic woman he supervises.

"I don't know why, but I've got a feeling you've heard the news about the Re-Structuring. I hate to say it, but it's true. Almost a third of the Company is going to be affected. They haven't announced any of the names yet, but every department was ordered to make a short list. I wouldn't bother telling you about it, except I put myself on that list. Well. That, and I've always had a ... well I can't say that. Not yet anyway."

He stares at Fran a moment as the drone from the smooth action clock on his wall echoes deafeningly between the two of them. Fran's breathing was starting to calm, but now it resembles the undulating course of an amnesiac rock crab, never quite aware that the waves will rush back in until its legs get wet again. She's certain what she's going to hear next, and she wishes Dave would just have out with it.

"Of course, I'm sure you're worried about your own position, Franny. And I sure would be, too. Especially if no one were saying anything about it. But if I'm honest, there's no need for that. You were on a different list.  ECO. 'Essential to Continued Operations'. Even if I had wanted to put your name on the short list, it was handed down from the corporate gods that your job was safe. I was a bit jealous at first, but now I'm just happy for you. So go ahead. Take a deep breath. You're safe."

Fran struggles and tries to take a deep breath several times before finally getting control. As she manages to take a nice clean deep breath, she feels everything relax and can't hold it back as she vomits right on Dave's shoes.

"Gotta love The Grind™," Fran repeats once her stomach is empty.