Wealth Bondage -- The Aftermath
(We join the denizens of newly upended Wealth Bondage corporation as they gather in the employee lounge, trying to make sense of their impending dissolution.)
Smokey Joe: So Phil’s leavin, huh? I never liked him anyway. He was a slave driver. Nothing we did was ever good enough. Fuck, I put in 23 of every 24 hours in service of the corporation. We were fucking winning. We had surveillance of the opposition, we had lawsuits and the threat of lawsuits, we had no-bid, cost-plus contracts for our clients, we even had fucking Gitmo! What else were we supposed to do?
Dick Minim: You’re new Joe. So it’s no surprise you’ve totally misread the dynamics. It’s my fault. There was trouble in the PR charnel house, and Tutor just egged it on. I couldn’t control him. And it was getting so I couldn’t control myself either. I just couldn’t sell it anymore. My mind would wonder even as I was licking Candie’s boots. I could see that Phil was disgusted with me. Tutor just laughed. If there’s one thing both of them hate, it’s lack of commitment. You either sell it, or get out.
Joe: So instead of firing your ass, he just left the company?
Dick: He could see a systemic breakdown on the horizon. That’s what I think. The man was conflicted. He wanted commitment to the company, but he also despised the company. So the more I lost faith and the more I was ordered to lick it back up off of Candie’s boots, the more delighted Phil became, until these feelings overruled his professionalism. I think he had no choice, really. Postmodernism wasn’t the sop it once was, is how he put it to me late one night when the killing floor was all but deserted.
And Candie never noticed. She had no clue to what was going on. But she considered even Phil beneath her.
Joe: Heh, and maybe he was.
Dick: I thought you were her stable boy.
Joe: I tried. I worked harder for her than I did for my Harvard MBA and Law degrees. I licked those boots til my tongue nearly fell out.
Chastity Powers: (walks in breakroom, does a quick turn on her heels): Do you think I should wear this red dress to my Fox News interview?
(silence)
What is the matter with everybody? Bush says losing your job is a good thing! You just have to pray and always wear low-cut.
Dick: There’s more to this unfortunate situation than meets the eye. Some of us have never felt the sting of failure.
Chastity: This isn’t failure, silly. It’s an opportunity. And if you love it here so much, Candidia said the company would keep running on a volunteer basis as long as we wanted it to. I didn’t want to leave either. I tried to get Phil to stay. I flashed my boobs and smiled real big. He said he’d already been to Disneyland and he found it fake. I never could figure out anything he said.
Dick: Oh *really*?
Chastity: Besides, Candidia set up a one-day job seminar with a free lunch! What more do you want?
Captain Blowtorch (appearing abruptly in the doorway); I just want you all to know, that we’re all counting on you. This is no time for doubt. This is no time for dissension. Desperate times call for bold actions! We must strike, or face elimination. Who’s with me?
(Silence, perplexed looks. Blowtorch backs out.)
Joe: Hey, where is Candie anyway? Have you seen her since Phil left?
Dick: I knew it! He’s keeping her. She’s a fucking winner on top of her game. I know Phil. He can’t resist that power, that strength.
Joe: But Candie was over him.
Dick: Was she? I could never tell. There was an air sometimes, when I saw them together, a wary respect, like two cats in a territory dispute. I could never tell if they were about to fight or fuck.
The Happy Tutor (appearing in the breakroom doorway): Phil had the velvet touch with her. She was a pussycat in his hands. She wanted what he had, but he kept it, he kept it.
Joe: Kept what? A good heart? (snort) what sentimental bullshit! Guys, our bonds are inextricable. Give it up. It. Is. Over.
Dr. Chadwallah (sitting crosslegged in the corner, eyes closed): Yes, Joe is right. We will go on serving our master. For although Phil and Candidia are gone, the master lives on.
Tutor (slouched at the table now, talking quietly with coffee cup between both hands. Tie loosened. Suit jacket crumpled, hundred-yard stare): Yeah, Phil left not in a high-minded huff, but with love and regret for all who trafficked here in the bordello. He said our bonds were illusory but no less powerful. His compassion was real. No one understood him, really. No one knew him. I was the closest, but running off with Candie? I can’t believe that.
Dick: She was the one person HE understood.
Tutor: Maybe. But I doubt he’s told her what he told me just before he left: It’s wealth, he said. Wealth is all wrong. But if we must have the filthy lucre and its imperative to violence, at least our actions can still wash away the blood and help to heal the wounds. Wealth he said, pointing to his chest, is in here. It always was and it always will be.
Joe: Yeah, then he slipped behind the wheel of his Cadillac Escalade.
(they all crack up)
Tutor (stands): I dunno. I feel better. Maybe this is the best thing that ever happened to us. I have no idea what to do next. I guess I’ll go back to my diss, try to finally get it published. But I’m gonna keep an eye on Phil. He’s got some good work to do now. Stop snickering, Joe. He might actually find some answers. Lord knows he and I raised enough questions here.
Joe: C’mon guys. Let’s get out of here. It’s happy hour. First round’s on me. And Tutor, I want to talk to you about a business venture. How do you feel about foreign travel? Ever been to the Middle East?
Dick: Nooo! Stay away from him, Tutor.
Joe (collaring Dick): Ah, Dickie Boy, I’m harmless. And Tutor’s a big boy. But we all gotta eat, right?
Tutor: Well, I am awfully thirsty. So scheme on my friend. I’m all ears.
Dick (whispering as they file out): You gonna keep Phil informed on this nut, or should I?
Tutor: Don’t worry. I’m still on the case.
--
Repost from March, 2004. See also Wealth Bondage hires a speech writer
(We join the denizens of newly upended Wealth Bondage corporation as they gather in the employee lounge, trying to make sense of their impending dissolution.)
Smokey Joe: So Phil’s leavin, huh? I never liked him anyway. He was a slave driver. Nothing we did was ever good enough. Fuck, I put in 23 of every 24 hours in service of the corporation. We were fucking winning. We had surveillance of the opposition, we had lawsuits and the threat of lawsuits, we had no-bid, cost-plus contracts for our clients, we even had fucking Gitmo! What else were we supposed to do?
Dick Minim: You’re new Joe. So it’s no surprise you’ve totally misread the dynamics. It’s my fault. There was trouble in the PR charnel house, and Tutor just egged it on. I couldn’t control him. And it was getting so I couldn’t control myself either. I just couldn’t sell it anymore. My mind would wonder even as I was licking Candie’s boots. I could see that Phil was disgusted with me. Tutor just laughed. If there’s one thing both of them hate, it’s lack of commitment. You either sell it, or get out.
Joe: So instead of firing your ass, he just left the company?
Dick: He could see a systemic breakdown on the horizon. That’s what I think. The man was conflicted. He wanted commitment to the company, but he also despised the company. So the more I lost faith and the more I was ordered to lick it back up off of Candie’s boots, the more delighted Phil became, until these feelings overruled his professionalism. I think he had no choice, really. Postmodernism wasn’t the sop it once was, is how he put it to me late one night when the killing floor was all but deserted.
And Candie never noticed. She had no clue to what was going on. But she considered even Phil beneath her.
Joe: Heh, and maybe he was.
Dick: I thought you were her stable boy.
Joe: I tried. I worked harder for her than I did for my Harvard MBA and Law degrees. I licked those boots til my tongue nearly fell out.
Chastity Powers: (walks in breakroom, does a quick turn on her heels): Do you think I should wear this red dress to my Fox News interview?
(silence)
What is the matter with everybody? Bush says losing your job is a good thing! You just have to pray and always wear low-cut.
Dick: There’s more to this unfortunate situation than meets the eye. Some of us have never felt the sting of failure.
Chastity: This isn’t failure, silly. It’s an opportunity. And if you love it here so much, Candidia said the company would keep running on a volunteer basis as long as we wanted it to. I didn’t want to leave either. I tried to get Phil to stay. I flashed my boobs and smiled real big. He said he’d already been to Disneyland and he found it fake. I never could figure out anything he said.
Dick: Oh *really*?
Chastity: Besides, Candidia set up a one-day job seminar with a free lunch! What more do you want?
Captain Blowtorch (appearing abruptly in the doorway); I just want you all to know, that we’re all counting on you. This is no time for doubt. This is no time for dissension. Desperate times call for bold actions! We must strike, or face elimination. Who’s with me?
(Silence, perplexed looks. Blowtorch backs out.)
Joe: Hey, where is Candie anyway? Have you seen her since Phil left?
Dick: I knew it! He’s keeping her. She’s a fucking winner on top of her game. I know Phil. He can’t resist that power, that strength.
Joe: But Candie was over him.
Dick: Was she? I could never tell. There was an air sometimes, when I saw them together, a wary respect, like two cats in a territory dispute. I could never tell if they were about to fight or fuck.
The Happy Tutor (appearing in the breakroom doorway): Phil had the velvet touch with her. She was a pussycat in his hands. She wanted what he had, but he kept it, he kept it.
Joe: Kept what? A good heart? (snort) what sentimental bullshit! Guys, our bonds are inextricable. Give it up. It. Is. Over.
Dr. Chadwallah (sitting crosslegged in the corner, eyes closed): Yes, Joe is right. We will go on serving our master. For although Phil and Candidia are gone, the master lives on.
Tutor (slouched at the table now, talking quietly with coffee cup between both hands. Tie loosened. Suit jacket crumpled, hundred-yard stare): Yeah, Phil left not in a high-minded huff, but with love and regret for all who trafficked here in the bordello. He said our bonds were illusory but no less powerful. His compassion was real. No one understood him, really. No one knew him. I was the closest, but running off with Candie? I can’t believe that.
Dick: She was the one person HE understood.
Tutor: Maybe. But I doubt he’s told her what he told me just before he left: It’s wealth, he said. Wealth is all wrong. But if we must have the filthy lucre and its imperative to violence, at least our actions can still wash away the blood and help to heal the wounds. Wealth he said, pointing to his chest, is in here. It always was and it always will be.
Joe: Yeah, then he slipped behind the wheel of his Cadillac Escalade.
(they all crack up)
Tutor (stands): I dunno. I feel better. Maybe this is the best thing that ever happened to us. I have no idea what to do next. I guess I’ll go back to my diss, try to finally get it published. But I’m gonna keep an eye on Phil. He’s got some good work to do now. Stop snickering, Joe. He might actually find some answers. Lord knows he and I raised enough questions here.
Joe: C’mon guys. Let’s get out of here. It’s happy hour. First round’s on me. And Tutor, I want to talk to you about a business venture. How do you feel about foreign travel? Ever been to the Middle East?
Dick: Nooo! Stay away from him, Tutor.
Joe (collaring Dick): Ah, Dickie Boy, I’m harmless. And Tutor’s a big boy. But we all gotta eat, right?
Tutor: Well, I am awfully thirsty. So scheme on my friend. I’m all ears.
Dick (whispering as they file out): You gonna keep Phil informed on this nut, or should I?
Tutor: Don’t worry. I’m still on the case.
--
Repost from March, 2004. See also Wealth Bondage hires a speech writer
