The Creaking Machinery

By David Smart

"But this is absurd. You keep brining me in here then throwing me out again."

It's a Tuesday afternoon in an office building like any other.
A burnt-out job applicant, an embittered Personal Assistant, a neurotic mail room clerk and a scheming executive are all about to cross paths, setting in motion an escalating chain of events that will leave more than one body on the boardroom floor by 5pm.

"It takes downsizing out of the hands of the executive class, and gives it back to the people, who really know how to do it."

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Smart
• Release date: Jan 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310077739

David Smart

David A. Smart is a neophyte novelist and accomplished asthmatic. He lives in a state of perpetual bemusement.

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THE CREAKING MACHINERY

by

David A Smart

(a jeremiad in 4 parts)

Copyright 2014 David Smart

Smashwords Edition

General Fiction

Table of Contents

PART ONE: ANY LADDER WORTH CLIMBING

ONE: THE APPLICANT

TWO: HIS P.A

THREE: THE MATRON

PART TWO: OF FEUDING TRIBES

ONE: THE MAIL CLERK

TWO: THE DERELICT

THREE: THE GRAPHIC DESIGN ARTIST

FOUR: THE CRISIS AVERSION CONSULTANT

FIVE: THE MARKETING MONSTER

PART THREE: PROCESSES OF ELIMINATION

ONE: THE ADMINISTRATOR

TWO: THE ORATOR

THREE: THE IMPECCABLY BALD MECHANIC

FOUR: THE MAN WHO COULD SELL #1

PART FOUR: BETTER THAN HERE

ONE: THE EXECUTIVE

TWO: THE BUILDING SUPERVISOR

THREE: THE MAN WHO COULD SELL# 2

PART ONE

ANY LADDER WORTH CLIMBING

ONE

THE APPLICANT

The old battered elevator shuddered as though out of deep disgust and began to ascend. It rose from floor to floor with an ever-increasing cacophony of rattles, squeals and groans that would have alarmed Alan terribly had he not been so used to them. This was Alan's fourth interview in this same building for the same sales position. His patience with the process was wearing as thin as the fatigued elevator cable presently bearing him upward. He leaned against the quaking metal wall of the lift and tried to summon the requisite enthusiasm for the meeting to follow.

~

Good afternoon sir, can I help you? the receptionist greeted Alan without a flicker of recognition as he approached her desk.

Yes, I have a 1:30 interview for a sales position. Alan replied, declining to point out that they had met on three previous occasions.

Okay. the prettily-freckled girl continued do you know who with?

The, uh, the manager. The Human Resources Manager.

As on the three prior occasions the receptionist reached into a drawer behind her desk and retrieved a clipboard, handing it to Alan and explaining perfunctorily You'll need to fill out this form, and I'll see if he's available for you.

The routine never changed, Alan mused with a bafflement that bordered on awe. He carried the clipboard to a seat resting against the adjacent wall and began filling out the exact same details he had filled out numerous times before. This task was made more difficult by the furious flickering of an expiring fluorescent light directly above him.

Alan went back over the process in his mind. In the past three months, he calculated, he had completed seven personal detail forms, a general knowledge test, an industry-specific knowledge test, a corporate stress-coping evaluation procedure, a psychiatric assessment and a curiously invasive physical examination in pursuit of this sales position. He had further endured interviews with the Sales Manager, the Quality Assurance Supervisor, the Assistant Human Resources Manager and now the Primary Human Resources Manager. More unsettling than this was Alan's suspicion that these executives had all in fact been the same man.

It was a peculiar phenomenon. Even given the undeniable interchangeability of the midlevel male executives Alan had observed around the building - similar height, age, weight, dress, ethnicity - it was impossible to ignore the fact that he had been interviewed on three separate occasions by the same man for the same job. The man - whose name Alan had never learned - changed his appearance for each meeting in only the most minute, cosmetic ways. While the Assistant Human Resources Manager wore dark horn-rimmed glasses the Sales Manager did not. And while the Sales Manager sported a meticulously kempt beard and moustache the Quality Assurance Supervisor was clean shaven. The Quality Assurance Supervisor, for his part, displayed a foppish penchant for matching tie and breast-pocket handkerchief combinations that the other two executives apparently eschewed.

Despite these superficial attempts at visual deflection Alan was not fooled. He would not be dissuaded from the belief that he was being continually interviewed by the same executive. The executive, like the pretty receptionist, never acknowledged any previous association with Alan. During their second interview, when Alan had alluded to a topic discussed at the prior meeting the man had stared back at Alan with apparent incomprehension. On their third interview, when Alan had pointedly stated that they had met before, the executive had calmly denied it then changed the subject.

We're going through a period of restructuring. the executive had explained vacantly It can be confusing. Didn't you notice the work going on as you came in today?

Yes, I saw…something going on.

They're ushering in a new era of office design concepts y'see. the executive had elaborated, his right hand pumping the air in a manner suggestive of masturbation. "They're going open plan. Can you believe such a ridiculous term? They think taking away our offices will somehow magically improve the working environment. I told 'em I don't care, I'm keeping my office. I told 'em 'you come after my office mate, you're coming after me'."

Well, that's a perfectly understandable reaction. Alan had offered convivially.

This gesture toward empathy on Alan's part had had a profound emotional effect on the executive, who glared at Alan with deep, malignant suspicion, and demanded Describe a particular instance in your career when you had to use conflict resolution skills to manage a situation in a workplace, how you employed those skills, and what was the outcome.

As Alan struggled to answer this barbarous question, the executive had watched him with the cold inscrutable satisfaction of a modern-day Torquemada.

The executive, no matter which guise he attempted to assume, had a few identifying verbal peculiarities that he carried from meeting to meeting, the first being a rapid speech pattern. He rarely paused as he spoke, often with the result that the purpose or meaning of many of his sentences eluded Alan for a few moments and it required an increased level of alertness on Alan's part to keep pace with the often erratic direction of each interview. Similarly confounding were the eccentric, and frequently incongruous, tones and inflections of the executive's speech. He habitually minimised important phrases while overstating innocuous ones. This, combined with a jarring - virtually operatic- emotional volatility on the executive's part, made conversation with him an unusually harrowing experience.

It defied Alan's understanding. Why was it necessary, he wondered, to interview him time and time again, ask the same formulaic questions over and over, as though it were a police interrogation and they were waiting to pounce on any inconsistency in his testimony? And why this childish need to insist that he was being interviewed by many executives in different roles when it was patently obvious he was not? It seemed to Alan, in his less rational moments, that the purpose of this endless series of interviews was not to get the job but simply to eternally keep applying for it. As though that were an end in itself. He wondered if this was some sort of ongoing test of his character or his powers of endurance. If so, he wondered how he was supposed to react. Did they expect him to confront the executive more forcefully on this matter, or was it best simply to comply? Would he seem too meek if he said nothing, or too fractious if he objected to being strung along in this manner? If it was part of his evaluation would complacency or assertiveness be viewed more favourably by the selectors?

He simply didn't know what they expected.

He decided to concentrate on his application form. He had filled out so many in the past few months that he tended to do so now without giving them a great deal of attention. His eyes slipped down the form, analysing what he had written so far.

APPLICATION FOR RECRUITMENT

Surname: Collocott

Given Names: Alan. D.

(Leaving a middle initial struck Alan as a mistake in retrospect. It was probably better, he feared, to give either his full middle name or omit any reference to a second name. But he had filled out the form this way, somewhat rashly, on his first interview and he was loath to change it now lest he appear deceitful or vacillating.

Alan was self-conscious about his middle name. "Derwent" had caused him no end of grief growing up - that first syllable alone invited limitless mockery. "DERR-went," he had been taunted during his school years. DUH-went,; his intelligence constantly belittled by children he knew to be far less intellectually gifted than himself simply because of an unfortunate secondary moniker. It was a humiliation he was eager to avoid in adult life.

But this middle initial business, he suspected, made him seem pompous or, worse, evasive.

Sometimes he wondered if he over-thought these things.)

Age: 62

(Five years from the official retirement age. There was no denying it He was certain it put him at a disadvantage professionally but, again, since he had stated his age as such on his first application he saw no way he could reduce it now. Besides, age discrimination, he had been told numerous times, was actively discouraged in most companies - an assurance that was becoming increasingly difficult to believe.

Given the grotesque protractedness of this current interview process Alan feared he would have long exceeded retirement age before any decision was reached on his application.)

Previous Employment: 1996-2008 CEO SERAPHIM GLASSWARES

(Twelve years at the head of a profitable corporation. Thirty-odd staff working under him. Alan was frequently surprised and dispirited by how little that seemed to matter to anybody. It had certainly rarely come up in any of the three previous interviews. It was, at most, a footnote. Even socially, whenever the topic arose, the question which generally predominated was "what happened to all the money you must've earned?" To which Alan would offer vague furtive phrases like "Well, when my wife's health started to deteriorate…

I was spending less and less time at the office..

…and Wendy's particular fund…pre-existing condition…

…apparently sufficient ground for dishonouring her claim…

…I sold most of my shares to cover expenses…

..a good nursing home doesn't come cheap, home care costs even more than that…etc etc.

Alan would usually make no mention of his own emotional collapse. He certainly hadn't included it on this or any other application form he'd filled out recently. He had sold his shares in the glassware company and eventually resigned his directorship for personal health reasons. That was as specific as he ever got on the subject.)

1991-1993 Sales Executive SISYPHUS INDUSTRIES….

He's ready to see you now. the receptionist announced and Alan looked up to see the executive coming toward him. It was the same man. There was no mistaking it. The same man, approaching him for the fourth time just as he had on the previous occasions, his hand outstretched, smiling the sort of blank courteous smile people tended to reserve only for initial encounters. Today he would be The Primary Human Resources Manager. Alan found himself strangely deflated to observe that the man's appearance was essentially unaltered from their previous meeting. There was, however, something unusual about the Human Resources Manager's gait. Alan detected an insouciant, casual shuffle this time, quite distinct from the brisk, efficient strut of previous meetings. Intrigued, Alan's gaze dropped to the executive's feet and an evanescent hiccup of laughter escaped from him. He found it oddly endearing. The executive was not wearing shoes. His stockinged feet softly scuffed against the frigid tile of the reception floor as he came forward. Alan stood and shook the man's proffered hand.

Pleased to meet you. The Human Resources Manager said genuinely. Why don't we step into my office?

~

The Human Resources Manager lifted the burning cigar from the ashtray on his desk and drew deeply on it.

So, what have you heard about us? he began with polished benignity Have you heard much about the company?

For the fourth time in three months, Alan answered this same question, careful not to betray the slightest impatience Well, I understand you manufacture pool cleaning equipment, is that right?

Partly. We manufacture materials which are then manufactured into valves and joinings which are used in the manufacture of pool cleaning equipment, yes.

I see.

"We are, in fact, the leading manufacturer of Tracto plastic tubing - the principal design feature of which, as I'm sure you're well aware, is the material's ability to expand and contract indefinitely without any surface wear and/or damage - in the country."

Alan took a moment. Fascinating. he offered finally.

It breathes, you see.

Breathes?

The plastic.

Oh.

"All of the major airlines are using this stuff now. It's a CASA regulation ever since all those wires started shorting out on those commercial flights cau-causing those planes to explode in mid-flight and all those-all those people to die!!"

At first Alan didn't recognise the juddering convulsions seizing the HR Manager's body as laughter. It was only when the executive began to rock back and forth in his seat and gingerly knuckle tears of merriment from his eyes that Alan realised the man was sniggering uncontrollably. Mid-flight. the executive managed between great peals of mirth ..just like that. No warning. No anything. Just BOOM!!! Gone. No more holidays…

This was new.

Alan watched, appalled, and tried to think of something appropriate to say. An instant later the HR Manager's laughter was gone without trace.

I'm sorry, he explained soberly Blood sugar. You understand.

That's okay,

We save lives. the HR Manager continued, his face drawn tight with grave piety I believe that and I'm very proud of that fact. In our own small way we manage to make a difference but yes pool cleaning equipment is our bread and butter, do you own a pool?

N-No, but I - I swim at the publics when I can.

The publics?

Public pools, you know.

Really? And you're not concerned about meningitis?

Should I be?

Well it's a crippling, disfiguring and often fatal illness of which public swimming pools are a notorious breeding ground. You really should be aware. The HR Manager glared at Alan, shocked and outraged by his apparent recklessness. Do you know how much foreign bodily fluid is incidentally swallowed during the average afternoon swim?

No I don't.

About 1/16th of a litre. That's one sixteenth of a litre. That's documented. That's fact! It's like drinking out of someone else's toilet in the name of Christ!!

Alan smiled and shrugged self-effacingly Well I guess I just don't worry about things like that.

The HR Manager fixed Alan with a look of such ardent seething contempt that Alan fully expected the executive to vault over the desk and physically assault him. Instead the HR Manager twisted his face into a truculent caricature of Alan's self-effacing smile and echoed "Well I guess I just don't worry about things like that," in a lisping falsetto parody of the older man's voice. Alan had never encountered behaviour like this from a grown man before. He wondered how he was meant to react. The HR Manager snatched up Alan's CV and made a show of fingering through it.

It says here you worked for Sisyphus Industries.

That's right.

They're a good company. Why did you leave?

Bad luck mostly. They were downsizing and I had the most on the job experience, so…

Alan stopped. The HR Manager was drawing on his cigar again and the smell of the smoke was beginning to overwhelm Alan. This was another of the peculiarities the executive carried from one interview to another. He smoked. Continually. Indecently. Shamelessly. Alan, in fact, had rarely seen the man without a lit cigar. Alan hadn't smoked in over a decade himself but he found the rich pluming smoke that issued from the HR Manager's seemingly endless supply of cigars enticing beyond endurance. Angered by this weakness and by the HR Manager's indelicacy in smoking without compunction in such an environment Alan blurted out:

Can I speak frankly?

Hmm?

Can I be frank with you?

The HR Manager looked up at Alan for a moment. No. he said.

No?

No. It isn't necessary that you be frank with me. It isn't part of your job.

My job?

Yes, assuming you're the one chosen for this position the role is in sales. Salesmen don't speak frankly. Salesmen lie and flatter and deceive and prevaricate. Salesmen tell us that good things happen to good people and dog shit tastes like doughnuts. I'm in Human Resources. It's my responsibility to accurately assess and evaluate each candidate and then relay those findings precisely to upper management, I speak frankly, you don't.

You mean you don't appreciate honesty?

From a salesman? I think I'd find it grotesque. Frankly. Now can we get on with the interview?

Alan made a vague gesture of acquiescence and the HR Manager leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together professorially, the cigar clenched between his teeth. If you were a tree, what kind of tr -?

It's just, Alan blurted again is this really necessary?

Is what really necessary?

Going through all this again.

Absolutely necessary.

But this is the fourth time you've interviewed me for this position.

No, this is the first time I've interviewed you for this position in my capacity as The Human Resources Manager. the executive explained wearily The last time I interviewed you for this position was in my capacity as The Quality Assurance Consultant and the two previous times I interviewed for this position was as The Assistant Human Resources Manager and The Sales Executive respectively. There are many subtle yet crucial differences.

Like what for instance?

Well this office is nicer for one.

But doesn't it seem a little wasteful?

Absolutely not, it couldn't be more efficient.

You've interviewed the same candidate for the same position four times in six weeks.

You've been interviewed by The Assistant Human Resources Manager, The Sales Executive, The Quality Assurance Consultant and now The Primary Human Resources Manager all in the space of six weeks. That's one man, drawing one salary, filling four roles. I can't think of anything more efficient.

But couldn't you have interviewed me in all four capacities at once?

That's liable to be a little confusing don't you think?

I don't know. Would it be?

Well imagine the four of us yammering away at you at once, it'd be bedlam. That's not the way you get things done. This is how you get things done. Calmly, precisely, in neatly ordered stages. It may take a little time. It may even be a waste of time.

It is a waste of time. It's a waste of both our time.

With an air of fraternal conspiracy the HR Manager leaned forward over his desk and revealed humbly I agree with you.

Then why don't you do anything about it?

With an air of lofty rebuke the HR Manager leaned away from his desk and evaded proudly Because it's the recruitment policy of this company.

And who sets the policy?

The Human Resources Department.

Of which you're both the Manager and the Assistant Manager.

"That's right and in those two capacities it's my responsibility to waste both our time as efficiently as possible in order to achieve the best results consistent with the recruitment policy of this company. Now can we get on with the interview?"

Alan laughed in spite of himself I don't see why not.

Are you married?

It took a moment. Alan's smile evaporated.

Was. he said.

What happened?

Alan blinked Happened?

Your marriage.

Oh…Is it relevant?

To the job? No.

Alan shifted in his seat. He thought for a moment. My wife… he began she - Let's just say she's not with me anymore. She's gone.

The HR Manager gazed at Alan with a profound raging empathy. Alan thought he detected a thin veil of tears in the man's eyes. Gone. the executive replied, trying out the word, his features darkening with a private outrage. When he spoke again his voice carried the lachrymose quiver of a man struggling against an uncontainable emotion. Yeah. You don't have to tell me what it's like mate, I know. Fickle, black-hearted bitches all of them aren't they? All of them. Not one of them capable of a single selfless act. Well don't you worry son, don't you worry at all. You're not Robinson Crusoe, not by a long chalk.

No, I don't think you quite understand… Alan attempted to explain.

Gone. The HR Manager muttered darkly Fucking cow.

My wife died is what I mean.

It took a moment. The HR Manager looked at Alan with incomprehension, then snapped What?

My wife's dead.

Dead?

Yes.

"Well, Jesus that's embarrassing!"

Funny, that wasn't my primary response.

No I don't mean you, I mean it's embarrassing for me. For you, my god, I can't even imagine.

Oh, I get by.

"Yes. At least you have her memory don't you? Happy times and all that. She, at least, didn't piss all over it like some of them do."

That's true. We had a good marriage, I can be grateful for that at least.

Soulless conniving slut.

If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it. It's still all too recent.

"My wife, now there's a fucking joke for you. If we can just get off you for a minute. My wife would make your wife look like a fuckin' saint, no bullshit My wife would have you castrated, for fun, in the Diocletian tradition - for whatever transgression she had perceived you guilty of that particular week - she'd then cook your mutilated manhood blandly in a microwave, plate it up and force you to choke it gratefully down while she sat by and sucked up every last drop of manly self-esteem you had to give like milk through a straw." The