At 9am sharp, she began.
“You’re here because you value your future.”
She paused from her podium.
The new hires were gathered in an orientation room, each sitting at a desk with a company computer.
“There are several documents in front of you. I encourage you to read through them carefully. Sign them, and you walk out of this room a member of Broke Enterprises.”
The room filled with the sound of papers shuffling, as each new hire read through the paperwork.
In front of her, a lone hand raised.
“Yes, Mr.?”
“Mike.” the attendee replied in a husk voice. “I’ve been through this pony show before.”
“Excuse me, pony show?”
“Yeah, I read through the docs. There’s no mention of your paper policy. Your job description said they were part of the benefits.”
Another new hire also spoke up, “There’s also no mention of take home allowance.”
“I see.” she said.
After a brief pause, she responded, “We offer on-site paper, and a modest take home allowance that starts after ninety-days.”
“What kind of paper?” Mike asked, sounding skeptical.
She stared at the mic in front of her. The new hires were all waiting for her answer. This has happened before.
“We partner with Ralph’s for our paper solutions.” she answered matter-of-factly.
A collective groan and expressions of disgust spread throughout the new hires.
“I assure you our company follows the market and offers a very competitive policy.”
Mike stood up at his desk and took off his badge.
“This is what I mean by pony show. Wasting our time for a bunch of Barely There’s?”
He tossed his badge towards the direction of the podium and walked out.
“I assure you our paper supply is reliable.” she said, trying to assure a now disgruntled crowd. “We made it through the last run intact, unlike many others.”
“I’d rather clean my asshole with sandpaper.” someone said in a loud whisper.
“Fuck this.” someone else said, as he stood up and walked out.
“Yeah.” another said, as more stood up and exited the room.
A lone attendee remained. He sat there nervously, as if awaiting further instruction.
After a long pause, he raised his hand.
She approached the mic, “Yes, Mr.?”
“Hi.” he said, chuckling with embarrassment.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“I apologize.” he said flustered. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t hear your response to the question.”
“Ralph’s.” she said quickly.
He sat there, frozen, his expression changing slowly from confusion, to frustration, to anger.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” he muttered as he got up and stormed out of the room.
Her boss walked in, staring at the empty room.
“Second walkout this week.” he commented.
“Yes.” she said, gathering her things.
“How many did we wager?” he asked.
“Four.”
“Three day’s left…” he smirked.
She began to walk out of the room, “I’ve been telling them Ralph’s.”
“Fuck.”
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