“ARBEIT MACHT FREI”, that’s the German phrase that sits on top of the entrance gate of Auschwitz, the Nazi death camp in Poland that killed at least six million Jews. In English, it means “WORK SHALL SET YOU FREE”. What’s ironic about it is, the Jews who entered its gate was never set free by their slavery work for the Nazi Germans. Most them died and perished. The only time they were set free was when the Russians arrived and liberated Auschwitz on January 27, 1945. But this isn’t about a story of the Holocaust. This is a modern tale of a synonymous tyranny in the version of corporate America and White female privilege.
Year – 2021. Location – New York City. Job – Office Coordinator. Name – Travis Chenowith. Ethnicity – African American. Employer – Eumerican Trade, A fintech firm. Education – Boston College. Major – English & Literature. Chances of earning a true living as a writer – 50/50. Travis knew at the back of his head that it will be extremely difficult to earn a decent living after graduating from college. So he followed the necessary rule of mediocrity, get a day job to pay his rent and food. For whatever reason, he’s been pretty lucky that he got decent paying day jobs for Wall Street firms in Midtown Manhattan. His new job, which he got through an agency, took him five zoom interviews before the boomers who recruited him finally made up their fucking minds. It was a decent paid salary with guaranteed cash bonus and full health insurance benefits. What Travis didn’t realize is that decent paying day jobs always come with a high cost that even money cannot buy.
First Week.
It was the first time Travis has returned to the office since the lockdown. He is waiting for his supervisor, the office manager, Karen White. She’s one of the people he interviewed with over a month ago. Karen walks over, holding on her left arm what seems to be a preserved carcass of a small animal. As she approaches me, I could smell the scent of a middle aged woman. Not necessarily body odor but a musk that not even a body soap or a French perfume could eliminate.
“Karen? Hi, I’m Travis!” He greeted her while reaching out to shake her hand. Karen is hesitant and almost afraid to make any human contact.
“Hi, I’m Karen. I don’t shake hands…” She replied.
While she was trying to speak to him, he cannot stop looking at the preserved carcass of a cat that she’s holding on her left arm.
“If you could stop looking at him, I’d greatly appreciate that.” She barked.
“I’m sorry, stop looking at what?” he replied.
“At Mr. Kenny!
Karen then raised the preserved carcass of her dead closer to my face. I stepped back in terror.
“This is Mr. Kenny! He’s the love of my life because I hate people! He died four years ago and I decided to preserve him! Look how alive he is!”
“Okay, could you please keep him off my face?”
She then puts down the carcass, and gestures to for me to walk toward the front desk reception.
Karen White barked at me that the main phone line at the reception desk must be answered at all time. The pussy bitch also reiterated that when I see the company CEO outside through the cctv camera on my desk, to make sure that I buzz him in, even though he’s got his own badge that he carries around in his fucking wallet. So basically, Karen was telling him that he’s the CEO, and if he tells him to jump out of the window, that he should still do it. All in the name of an office coordinator job that pays $65,000 a year plus $7,000 bonus. To most people, it’s a decent salary to live off on while living in New York City. But the truth is, that salary is just pennies compared to what the senior management capitalists are earning in the wall street industry. They have this thing called “fuck you money”, an bonus amount that’s separate from the bonus that you receive if you’re a banker or a trader. It ranges from $100,000 to $1,000,000. The reason they call it “fuck you money” is because on top of your salary and bonus, you can spend that money any way and however you like, with no consequences or ramifications. Pretty sweet isn’t it? It’s one of those moments where Travis wishes that he majored in finance instead of English! But, it’s a little late to cry over spilled milk.
So during Travis’ first week at work, has been nothing but a shitty experience of cluster fuck, and a string of shit shows. Some people in that office seem to be shocked to see a Black, male receptionist manning the front desk.
Across town down on Lexington Avenue, the company has a sister office that operates on its bookkeeping and human resources services. They also have their own receptionist there named, Ruth. Ruth trained Travis during his first two days at the company. She’s probably one of the nicest people he worked with in that office. However, every time Karen stops by their desk while Ruth was training Travis on something.
“Are you guys feeling comfortable?” She asked.
“Pardon me?” I asked.
“I said, are you both comfortable sitting so close to each other?” Karen screeched.
Travis and Ruth both looked at each other.
“Yes, we’re fine” I replied.
“OK, good to know. Ruth, make sure you teach him on how we complete the spreadsheets, our messenger service, and most importantly, our security guest list!”
“Sure,” Ruth answered.
Ruth continues to elaborate on some training things for Travis and then stands up from her seat to go to the bathroom. Karen then rolls up her eyes like a sexually repressed concubine.
“There’s always something with that girl” She said.
“Well, she needed to go to the bathroom just like everyone else.”
“Sure, sure. So how are you liking the job so far?”
“So far, so good.”
“I forgot to tell you this, but when you see the CEO, don’t make eye contact with him, no small talk, don’t try to be friends with him, only speak to him when you’re spoken to. Understood?”
“Yes, I heard you loud and clear.”
“Thank you”.
She then walks away while murmuring to herself. Travis thought she’s fucking crazy and wished he never accepted this job. But then again, he needs a job to pay the rent! And unfortunately, he doesn’t have a trust fund to dip into. He lasted on the job for about three months. Karen, the cunt office manager, made racist remarks about him during their meeting. The topic was in regards to his ethnic background. Given his African-American heritage, she made a comment that referred to the lynching of Black people in the South.
“You know Travis, if this was a seventy years ago, you and I were in the South, I’m your boss, and you made a mistake while working in the cotton fields, I would have had your Black ass lynched!” She said.
“But we’re not in the South. We are in New York City and the year is 2021.” Travis replied.
“I’m just joking with you! The problem with your generation is everyone is so goddamn sensitive! You can’t say anything anymore! My old school generation however, we can say whatever we want and then laugh at it!”
“There’s nothing funny about lynching Black people, Karen.”
“Whatever, I need to be on a conference call in ten minutes. Make sure you don’t make the same mistake again.”
Karen abruptly ended their meeting when she realized that Travis felt uncomfortable about her racist remarks.
That same day, Travis contacted the human resources office to report Karen. HR indicated and stated that they will get started in an investigation with her. However, two weeks later, he got called into a meeting with the vice president of HR and was told that he’s not the right fit for the job and is subject to immediate termination. He was also offered a decent severance amount on top of his last paycheck, under the condition that he will leave his job quietly. That meant, he cannot sue the company and he cannot talk about his termination with anyone. Those were the condition on the piece of paper that he needed to agree on. Considering that he has little money on his savings, he accepted their offer and he was fired.
The minute Travis walked out of the office building, he thought to himself, what the fuck just happened? He then realized that he got played by the corporate system that sustained him after all these years. He thought he was immune from these kind retaliation but he’s fucking wrong. Luckily, in less than a week, he found an assistant job at a talent agency, Creative Artists Agency, one of the biggest talent agencies in the world, representing the likes of Tom Hanks, Steven Spielberg, and Madonna. In a way, it was a “happy accident” for Travis.
THE END
Bushwick In Fiction 