Greed

by D Thomas Jewett

  “Who, – who me?” Mark turned red. “I ain't stolen nothin’!” He spat.

  “You little shit!” She spat back. “You're just a thief. A 'user' of people. Only looking to find what you can use to your advantage – and to hell with everyone else!”

  The room became silent.

  “Well? Do you want to have dinner with me?” Mark finally asked.

  Sheryl looked away from Mark and sniffed. “I'll think about it.”

  * * *

  Sheryl found herself at Rulano's Italian Restaurant – a quiet place tucked far away from the Capitol – sitting across from Mark.

  “So, how long have you been working for Bannister?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I don't know. I just wanted to know how long you've been working as an aide.”

  “Why do you want to know that?”

  Mark was chewing on a breadstick. He hesitated and then spoke. “Hey. Look,” he paused, looking into her eyes, “I really just want to know you better.”

  “Well, why didn't you say so?”

  Sheryl watched Mark's face turn red. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess with ya.”

  Mark smiled. “Yes you did. You meant it.”

  “Oh. Alright. I was screwing with ya.” She smiled.

  They looked at each other.

  “So,” Mark opened, “what do ya think about this Iraq deal? Do you think they've got weapons of mass destruction?”

  Sheryl took a nibble out of her breadstick. “I don't know. And I'm not so sure it matters, either.”

  “Doesn't matter? Why do you say that?”

  “Well. Lot's of countries have WMDs – but, unless they attack us, we don't go to war with ‘em. So, what makes Iraq different?”

  “Hmmm. That's a good question.” And then Mark continued, “but if they have WMDs, they can sure use 'em on us; don't ya think?”

  “Well, yes,” Sheryl replied. “But if you use that logic, shouldn't I be calling the police?”

  Mark looked at her quizzically. “Huh?”

  “Shouldn't I call the police on you?”

  “What are you talking about? I haven't done anything to you. Why would you call them?”

  “Well,” she looked at him with dancing eyes, “you're obviously a rapist aren't you? And isn't it a matter of time before you use it?”

  “Huh?”

  She continued. “you have all the equipment, don't you? It's just a matter of time before you use it. Right?” she smiled.

  A disbelieving look crossed Mark's face. He paused, and then held up the palm of his hand, as if to say 'STOP'. “Okay. Okay. I see what you're getting at.”

  The waiter came over and took their order.

  Sheryl continued their conversation. “But there's something I don't understand; and maybe you can help me with it?”

  Mark stroked the glass with his hand. “What don't you understand?”

  “Well ...” Sheryl was thinking. “This Congressman Bannister.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well ...” she paused, thinking. “He decided to change his vote on the Iraq thing.”

  “So, why does that matter? Congressmen change their minds all the time.”

  “Not this one, Mark. I’ve worked with him for about a year – he always sticks to his principles.”

  “And what are his principles?”

  Sheryl looked into her glass. “He's passionately anti-war – that's what. Hell, he's so anti-war that he always votes against the defense budget!”

  “Wow,” Mark replied. “And now he's gonna vote for the Iraq war?”

  “Yes. And I don't understand it!”

  They both paused in thought.

  “But you know?” She continued. “There's one strange thing that happened today.”

  “What's that?”

  “This guy came in to see Bannister. He went into Bannister's office and spent some considerable time with him. Shortly after the man left, Bannister came out and let us know he was changing his vote.”

  “Hmmm,” Mark paused in thought.

  “What was the man's name?”

  Sheryl replied. “Daniel, I think. Daniel, ah – Elsbarg? Or something like that.”

  Mark looked at her. “Elsbach? Was his name Elsbach?”

  “Yeah – maybe. I'm not sure.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Well. He was tall. Dark. Slender. Graying at the temples.”

  Mark nodded his understanding.

  “Why? Have you heard of this guy?” Sheryl asked.

  “More than heard of him.” Mark rolled the wine glass in his hands.

  Mark exhaled a sigh. “About three times, I've seen him come to politicians that I've worked for. You know – I used to work for a Senator, and now I work for the majority whip.”

  Mark continued. “Well, every time he goes in to see my congress critter – no use mincing words here – they change their vote after he leaves. I don't know what it is, but he has some kind of power over 'em.”

  “And now this with Bannister, a die hard liberal peace monger. Wow!”

  Sipping her wine, Sheryl looked across the table at Mark.

  Shortly thereafter, the waiter brought out their meals and they spent the remainder of the evening getting to know each other.

  Chapter 6 – July, 2003

  “Damn! The Fed Funds Rate is now down to 1 percent.”

  Chairman Greenspan looked up at Jim Martin through his black-framed glasses and smiled. “I would think that would give quite a boost to the economy. Don't you think so?”

  Jim paused before answering. “Well, we're surely flooding the economy with cheap money ...”

  The wrinkles on Chairman Greenspan's face descended into a frown.

  Jim continued. “And surely one would think that boosting the money supply should lead to growth. But did you consider the possibility that driving down interest rates has the effect of weakening the dollar? And have you considered that a weaker dollar will cause more U.S. jobs to move offshore?”

  Chairman Greenspan leaned back in his chair, watching Jim intently.

  Jim paused again before continuing. “And have you considered the notion that lower interest rates will cause savings and capital to flee the U.S.? Which will cause fewer jobs to be created in the U.S.?

  Chairman Greenspan's office became deathly quiet – like a tomb. And like a tomb, Jim felt a shiver as though a granite slab had just slid into place above his head, burying him inside. The Chairman took off his glasses and placed them on the desk in front of him. He seemed to consider each lens in turn.

  The Chairman put his glasses on and looked up a Jim. “You raise some good points, Jim.”

  Chairman Greenspan continued. “I think ... that the price of gold is low, and it is telling us that the value of the dollar has some room to maneuver.” His eyebrows raised as he paused. “I think the issue of capital flight has merit. But the U.S. economy long-ago became accustomed to using credit as capital. You know – the credit that we and the banks create? So, the economy is much less dependent on savings as a means of investment.” He paused. “And as for jobs moving offshore, I think we will only be doing this for a short time. And so, we should not have any trouble – but this is a gamble we must take if we are to revive the U.S. economy.”

  The Chairman continued. “As you know, Jim, the U.S. economy, and the world economy, for that matter, have seen a steep drop in economic output. If we are to revive the world economy, we must kick start it with your so-called 'cheap money'.” The Chairman smiled with these last words.

  The Chairman laid his hands almost flat on top of his desk. “I trust,” he said in his measured, patient manner, “that I have answered your questions?”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman. Thank you.” And with that, Jim turned and walked out of the office.

  As Jim walked through the outer office, he passed a tall, dark, and lanky gentleman seated in the waiting area. Jim nodded to him, then slowed his pace t
o a crawl. He heard Carol speak into the intercom. “Mr. Chairman. Mr. Elsbach is here to see you.”

  “Yes, Carol. Please ask him to come in.”

  Carol turned to the man. “Chairman Greenspan will see you now.”

  * * * * *

  Another day at work, Joe walked into his cube and sat down at his workstation. Ahhhh – Friday! Maybe, if there's not much going on here, we can head up to the Sierras this afternoon. We'd be able to pitch a tent and bed down before dark.

  Joe smiled to himself. I should be able to get out of here by 3, get home by 3:30, hook up the boat trailer by 4:00, and be on the road shortly thereafter. We should make camp by 6:30 or 7pm. I'll bet the fish are biting good! I wonder how that new lure –

  Joe looked up as Nate stuck his head into the cube. “Hey Joe. Can you come on down to my office?”

  Joe got up from his chair and followed Nate down the hall. I wonder what he wants? He doesn't usually invite me to talk in his office! “Hey Nate. What's goin' on?”

  Nate walked into his office and Joe followed. Nate had a sober look on his face. “Close the door and have a seat.”

  Joe sat down and looked across the desk at Nate. “What's with the look? Why so glum?”

  Nate leaned forward from his seat; his elbows resting on his desk. “Joe. I'm sorry to bring you bad news.”

  Nate turned his head away from Joe and continued. “They're laying you off.”

  Joe looked down at his hands. And then he looked up at Nate. “What? I've been here twenty years! Nate – twenty fucking years!”

  “I know. I told them this was a mistake. That we needed you and that you'd done a lot of good work over the years. But, they didn't listen.”

  “But, but – did they say why?”

  Nate looked dejected. “They're laying off a whole lot of people today. New management. You know how it is.”

  “Shit!”

  Joe sat in his chair in silence – alone – as though no one else existed. Twenty years! What the fuck! I wonder what Jane will say? I wonder what kind of job I can get?

  Nate continued. “You’ll need to go directly to HR from here. They’ll talk with you about your severance package and answer any questions you have.”

  Nate stood up, signaling the end of their discussion. “I'm sorry, Joe. Really, really sorry. If there's anything I can do, please let me know. It goes without saying, but I will say it anyway – you've been a true pleasure to work with. Don't hesitate to use me as a reference.”

  Joe stumbled over his tongue as he responded. “Thanks, Nate.”

  Joe walked out of the office and headed up to Human Resources.

  Joe was stunned. More – he was in shock. After twenty years, I never would've guessed they'd let me go! Walking up to HR, he passed by a co-worker, John, who worked on the night shift. He was walking abreast with a woman who wore an access badge. Joe didn't know who she was.

  And then it hit him. She's escorting him out of the building. I suppose they'll do that to me, too. I heard that it's standard procedure for people they fire, but not for layoffs ...

  He walked into the HR department and up to the receptionist's desk. The receptionist appeared ready for the day's activities – she did not even blink as she asked Joe's name.

  “Miller. Joe Miller,” he replied.

  The receptionist dialed a number. “Karen? Mr. Miller is here.” She paused to listen. “Okay. I'll send him right down.”

  She turned and nodded to Joe. “Mr. Miller, If you will just take this hallway, it will bring you to Ms. Spender's office. Karen Spender is waiting to see you.”

  Joe began his journey down the corridor. His journey of – loneliness! I hate these people ... what the hell are they planning? What's gonna happen?”

  He walked into Karen Spender's office. The woman behind the desk stood up and extended her hand. “Mr. Miller. I'm Karen – Karen Spender.”

  Joe looked at her warily. “I'm Joe. Joe Miller.”

  Ms. Spender brought her empty hand down and gestured to him. “Have a seat. Please.”

  Ms. Spender re-seated herself and placed her elbows on her desk, with her hands folded just below her hard, well-defined chin.

  Joe's hands were shaking as he watched her. He waited for her to speak.

  “Mr. Miller. I assume you've already talked with Nate?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he informed you that we are letting you go.”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked to meet with you so that we can finalize the paperwork prior to your, ah – departure.”

  Joe sighed. And then he said, “What paperwork is that, Ms. Spender?”

  “Ah – we are prepared to offer you a severance package as part of your, ah – retirement.”

  “Retirement? I am too young to retire, Ms. Spender. Nor can I afford to retire.”

  “Quite right,” she replied. “Well, we are prepared to offer you three months' pay as a severance package; and in return, we want you to sign this document.” She held up a document.

  Three months! Three months after twenty years of loyalty! “What's it say?” Joe asked.

  “Well, ah – it merely says that we terminate our relationship on amicable grounds. And with your signature, ah – you agree not to seek any further settlement from the company.”

  “And what if I choose not to sign?”

  The corner of her mouth crooked up as she looked down at the document. “If you, ah – choose not to sign the document, then we will still terminate our relationship. But you will receive no severance package.”

  “Do I have time to think about this?

  “No, Mr. Miller. This is your sole opportunity to sign it.”

  “So you call me in first thing this morning and tell me I'm laid off; and then you present me with this contract and tell me my only opportunity to sign it is now.”

  “Tell me, Ms. Spender, how long have you known I was to be let go?”

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Miller. I do not know the answer to that.”

  “Are you telling me that you don't know how long you've known?”

  She leaned forward on her desk. “Mr. Miller. Joe. I do not know how long they've had the list. I can tell you that I was notified last night.”

  “Why is the company doing this? Why me? Why now?”

  She leaned back and looked across the desk. Then she said, “Because the company isn't doing well.” She paused and took a deep breath, then continued. “Hell Joe, you know that the telecom industry is in the middle of a depression. I don't know how you were selected, but I know it's about the economy.”

  Joe sat across the desk and looked at her intently. Finally, he blurted out in exasperation, “Give me the document. I need to read it before I sign.”

  Joe scanned the document, and then flipped it over and read the back. He scribbled his signature on it and handed it back to her. She took the document and handed over a check.

  Ms. Spender leaned back in her chair, and said, “It's my job to walk with you back to your office and help you collect your things.”

  Ms. Spender collected a couple of boxes and they walked the corridors back to Joe's cubicle. Ms. Spender stood by while Joe collected his books, pictures, odds and ends ... all the things he had accumulated over the previous twenty years.

  He pulled several framed certificates off of the walls – Outstanding Accomplishment Awards, each covering a different year of his service. Joe noticed Ms. Spender's seeming embarrassment as he looked at the awards.

  When he finished packing the boxes, they loaded them on a cart and she accompanied Joe to the nearest security checkpoint. And then she served the final insult. “Your badge please.” It wasn't a request.

  As though he were letting go of a long-time close friend, Joe unclipped the badge and handed it to her.

  Joe and Ms. Spender walked out to his truck and loaded the boxes. Then he crawled into the cab for the long drive home.

  * * *

  Joe was driving down Sunris
e Blvd. when he approached an intersection with a green light. He momentarily looked to his left and then looked back to the approaching intersection. The light was now red. What the ...! I only looked away for a second! Hmmm ... was that light really green before?

  Joe sensed he was scattered – unfocused. He felt a headache coming on, and he felt his eyes squinting while they were jumping back and forth. After two more near-accidents, he pulled over to the shoulder. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to rest.

  He usually had thoughts running through his mind. But now he felt nothing. And his mind was almost a blank. Strange!

  Joe turned back onto the road and continued his drive home. He was beginning to feel angry, but he didn't know what to do about it. He continued driving.

  * * *

  Joe entered the house and closed the door behind him. “Jane?”

  “Hey,” he heard Jane in the distance, “you got off of work early! Are you all set for the boating trip?”

  Jane hopped down the stairs. She saw Joe's expression and halted in mid-stride. “Honey? What happened?”

  His voice sounded like a child's. “They laid me off.”

  “What?”

  He looked at her as he reached across his chest to his opposite arm. He clenched his arm as he said, “They laid me off.”

  “Oh no!”

  Joe turned his head as she tried to connect with him. Then, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him close to her. They held each other for some time.

  Finally, Jane looked up into Joe's eyes. She smiled. “Let's go fishing.”

  * * *

  Joe's early arrival home gave them plenty of time to get out of the valley before rush hour. They needed only to load up the truck and attach the trailer – activities they had performed countless times before.

  They soon departed – leaving the summer heat behind. Up into the Sierras they drove; up, up into the cool of the tall pine and fir trees. On a high section of road, Joe looked out over the expanse of forest – I've never gotten over how tall the trees grow! They drove for about 90 minutes and then came upon the turnoff to their favorite campsite – Lake Van Norden. They continued their drive weaving back and forth along the curves of the back roads until they arrived at the lake. Turning into the ranger's checkpoint, they paid the fee and chatted with the Ranger.