The Arcade

The harsh, insistent beeping hauled him from a very deep sleep and a very pleasant dream, the details of which seemed to mostly involve hula girls and waterfalls. Cosmo groaned as he reached over to aim a misplaced slap at the alarm clock to silence its nagging drone. The third try was successful, after which he lay on his back for a few moments, trying to decide whether or not he really wanted to go into the office today.

The “office” was more a series of medium-size broom closets than actual offices, each as bland and depressing as the others. Industrial-grade gray carpeting ran throughout the building, and a faded sort of washed-out beige wall-paper spattered with tiny blue flowers ran floor to ceiling. It had all the imagination of oatmeal, and had “cheap” all over it. Cheap ties, cheap outfits, cheap haircuts, and cheap emotions. If the word ‘superficial’ had a headquarters, it would look like this place. It even had the cliché water-cooler by the copier, complete with little paper cone cups.

Cosmo rolled out of bed after a few moments and started what had been his morning routine for the last three years since starting at Dyna-Temp: shower, shave, dress, bagel-and-o.j. He walked out on to the terrace of his three-story walk-up and stood quietly, chewing his bagel and appraising the sunrise. It too seemed as though it really wasn’t in the game this morning. It seemed lethargic, if a sunrise can be termed as such.

Looking ahead, the day really didn’t have much in store in the way of “wow” factor. Same routine. Same job. Same people. Same, same, same. The fact that he was paid a relatively comfortable salary – well, comfortable enough that he didn’t often check his bank balance – did little to relieve the stale, dry outlook he had on his job (he wouldn’t call it a career) or it’s future.

Somehow, being a personnel director of a temp agency didn’t sound like something you’d include on a list of noteworthy accomplishments to include in the eulogy read over somebody’s coffin. It didn’t quite rank up there with “Humanitarian, philanthropist, poet, and conservationist – he will be remembered for his contributions to the advancement of humanity’s goal of world peace – inspired by those who knew him, and greatly missed by those who love him…”

Nah. Don’t think so. It’d be more like “He hired, fired, and went on to down-size Marketing. Kind of a cold-hearted schmuck, if you ask me…” Cosmo shook his head at that last thought. He didn’t consider himself cold-hearted at all, and he most definitely didn’t consider himself a schmuck. Sometimes his job forced him into schmucky decisions, but company policy didn’t allow for much latitude, and neither did the owner of the company.

One last gulp of o.j. and bite of bagel, and it was time to head off into the carnival ride that was rush-hour traffic. As he headed down the stairs and into the lobby, he kept thinking how, if ever given the chance to do things differently, he would change his life – just one chance. He knew where he would start, and he knew exactly what he would do. He’d had this conversation with himself dozens – no – hundreds of times. All he needed was a Cosmic favor; a Divine mulligan, if you will. As always, he shook his head at his own folly, and proceeded out the lobby door and into the morning glare of reality.

Cosmo walked in the door to the small reception area of Dyna-Temp and straight through the door to the back offices. The usual half-hearted and slightly monotone morning greetings met him as he walked past each cubicle and office door, and he returned them in the same half-hearted and monotone manner. Oh how he loved sincerity. He would almost rather they simply greet him with “Good morning, schmuck!” and be done with it. At least it would be genuine.

When he got to his office, he went to unlock the door and found it to be already unlocked, and slightly ajar. As he pushed on the door, he began making a mental note to speak to the night cleaning staff and remind them to ensure all the doors are locked before they leave, when his train of thought derailed at the sight of the owner sitting behind his desk.

“Good morning, Cosmo. Have a seat, won’t you?” This could not be a good way to start the morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Joplin. This is a bit of an unexpected surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you until our scheduled conference in three weeks.”

The tone in Cosmo’s voice most likely betrayed his anxiety at the owner’s sudden appearance, but he was too nervous to notice – although the owner certainly caught it.

“Well Cosmo, ordinarily I wouldn’t have dropped in unannounced like this, but the quarterly numbers came in yesterday, and they weren’t…encouraging.” This most definitely did not bode well

“I don’t understand, sir – last quarter this office met every projected goal we had set: client base, temp-to-permanent hires, profit margin, and return temp applicants. Where were the low numbers from?” Yup – definitely sounding nervous now. Blood in the water, anyone?

“It’s like this, Cosmo” Mr. Joplin went on “the numbers for the areas you listed were all on track, and in some cases above projected. The problem lies in personnel reviews – specifically yours.”

Cosmo blinked. “Mine? When was I given a performance review? The last review I had was last year and it was given by you. I don’t understand, sir.” Okay, now he was really worried.

“Cosmo, there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll come to the point: I’m eliminating your position. The over all morale of the other employees has dropped dramatically since you became personnel director, and although…”

Mr. Joplin’s voice became a far away drone as Cosmo tried to assimilate what he had just heard: he was fired – fired! Are you kidding? After three years of a nearly spotless work history, impeccable references, glowing performance reviews, goals met or exceeded – and all for what? So he could take a knife in the back from his own boss because he followed company policy. Got it.

“…so I’m sure you can understand that, although I don’t hold you personally responsible, I need to consider the big picture, which is employee job satisfaction and morale. Otherwise, performance suffers – and that just creates a domino effect everywhere else - bottom line.”

Lose the schmuck, or everyone walks. Heard ya loud and clear, boss – oops…ex-boss.

After Cosmo had cleaned out his desk, then took the same walk of shame that he had sent many others on out the front door, he was left feeling oddly liberated. As he stood in the morning sun on the walk outside Dyna-Temp, a very intense and warm thrill of freedom and hope surged through him, as though he had suddenly and unexpectedly won the lottery – after he’d forgotten buying the ticket.

With this unaccustomed feeling of freedom and joie de vivre, he threw the junk from his office into his trunk, and jumped into his Beemer. But where to go? He had no idea. What does an animal do when he finds his foot suddenly free of the snare? As he sat there behind the wheel, a smile started to spread across his face, and he gave a loud “woo-hoo!” when the idea came to him. He started the car then sped off – laughing as though he just went down the first dip on his first roller coaster ride.