Ep.79 – Torture and Other Job Skills - Being Out of Work Can be KILLER

Episode Notes
Being out of work sucks, especially when that's how you value yourself. But what if you have another calling, a deeper calling... a DARKER calling...
Torture and Other Job Skills by Killian Crane
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Transcript:
Have you ever been laid off?
I had my dream job in management. Good benefits, great pay. Small company, room to grow. Every day at work was a genuine pleasure. Most people say that to kiss their boss’s ass. But not me. I loved my job.
When Debra left me, the job was all I had. I poured my soul into it. Those under me, they didn’t understand. They whispered behind my back, called me, “pushy, tight ass... nut job.” Some of them even called HR on me.
They couldn’t understand. I demand nothing but the best from my team. Do your job to the best of your ability and we’ll have no problem. Do sloppy work, and I will make sure you face the consequences. And as for all the whispers behind my back, what they failed to realize was that my methods worked. I was by far the best manager at my job. Punctual, organized, efficient. Those under me knew my expectations. You see, people are like coal. If you put enough heat and pressure on coal, it becomes a diamond. Diamonds are the standard we should all strive to achieve.
One thing I cannot stand is failure. I punished those that failed me. There are far too many weaklings in the workforce. The answer of course isn’t to fire them on the spot, that’s a waste of coal. But punishment, that’s the answer. More heat, more pressure. There’s a diamond in there somewhere.
I was the best at making diamonds... until this fucking COVID-19 virus. I will never forget the day my boss Ryan called me into his office.
The first words out of his mouth were, “I’m sorry I have to do this.”
He was flat, formal, and precise. I sank into my chair. He said some more things about the virus, uncertain times, cutbacks in every department. Across the board, he said...
I didn’t listen to all that. I was too busy looking into his eyes. They said everything I needed to hear. He wasn’t sorry, not at all. He wanted me gone.
I couldn’t help but cry. It was unsightly and unprofessional, but the job was my everything, my only thing. And he took it from me.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“It came from corporate. Nothing I can do.”
Years of service, up in smoke.
As COVID made a killing, so did delivery services. I had everything delivered to my apartment; food, basic supplies, alcohol. Not that I was afraid of the virus, I just... didn’t have the strength to go outside. I was a failure. Me, the best employee in my division, possibly in the entire company... had been laid off. Let go. I knew it had nothing to do with the virus. That was just an excuse for the higher ups to trim the fat.
I never thought of myself as fat before then. Fat was something gross to be discarded. I hated myself, but more, I hated everything else.
I started the search for a new job immediately. I updated my already outstanding resume, surfed the appropriate websites. Someone would have me.
My bed became my new office as I searched. My laptop lay to my right, next to the television remote, the pretzels, the two liters, the whiskey, the box wine... I used the same cup for everything. Saved time during the search. Every time I went to the door for a delivery, I had to kick the daily paper out of the way. Despite the pandemic, the paper never stopped coming. Over time, they became a pile next to the door. They had their own ozone, their smell of ink and paper so much more pleasant than the rest of the place. It was funny. The world shut down, but not the mail. Should have been a mailman, I thought. Definite job security.
Of course, there were no mail jobs available. There were almost no jobs available. And the ones that were disappeared fast. The market was more dog eat dog than ever. I’d send in my resume and check back the next day to find the position no longer available. And I hadn’t gotten a call. Their loss, I thought... but then more and more listings disappeared. Blinking out like stars in the night sky.
When the check from the government came in, that was the worst. I’m sure it thrilled some people to receive one, but not me. I felt like a leech. More than anything, I wanted to work. To earn my way. But the night sky had grown dark, and so had my apartment.
In the darkness, I fantasized about hurting Ryan. A lot. I wished it was just me and him and a fucking pipe wrench...
Those weeks were hard on my ex, Debra. She called me often. I remember standing in my bathrobe at the window talking to her. The view was nothing spectacular, but it was nice to stand in the sun and listen to her voice. Too bad I couldn’t see her in person; she’d caught the damn virus.
“I’m worried about you,” she said weakly between wheezes.
I held my phone in the crook of my neck, checking my robe for smells. I’d flipped it inside out a few times in the past week. It itched, but I had a fix for that. A sort of numb-all recipe I’d perfected.
“Me?” I asked on my way to concoct the recipe. I accidentally stepped in a puddle. Liquid seeped through my sock and in between my toes, “Don’t worry about me. Hey, this might cheer you up. I found out today they shut down my entire department. Even Ryan, the asshat that fired me, lost his job. And I think he has COVID!”
“You shouldn’t laugh at that,” she said, “COVID’s no joke. I’m not liking it so far.”
“Well, I hope it fucking kills him. Hang on, let me put you on speaker.”
I put the phone down on the table. It was tough to find free space, so I knocked a takeout container to the floor. Globs of congealed rice spilled onto the hardwood.
“I know you loved your job, but you shouldn’t say things like that.”
My old job... it was why she left me to begin with. Late work hours, dates cancelled, time missed and all that. As she droned on about what the fuck ever, I poured myself the perfect numb-all. Three fingers of red wine, two fingers of bottom shelf whiskey. Pour over ice and slosh until mixed. Only one more ingredient...
“No, I’m not,” I said, holding a little orange bottle. I wasn’t sure if that was the right response or not. Based on her silence, it wasn’t.
Debra had left the bottle here at our- my apartment after a surgery on her knee. My supply of the last ingredient was low. The pills rattled as I popped the top and fished one out.
Debra snorted.
“You’re being strange today.”
“Eh.”
“Is there any way I could maybe see you, you know, after I get better? I’m just… tired of being cooped up.”
I put the pill on my tongue and washed it down with a sip of my drink. Numb all coming right up.
“We’ll have to see. I’m just so… busy these days.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah, sorry… can’t... can’t talk right now, I’m at work.”
She went silent for a while before finally saying something terrible.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Hey,” I said, ice clinking as I downed the rest of my drink, “who’s my pretty girl?” I licked my lips and tasted the world slowing down.
Debra had a tattoo on the small of her back, a purple butterfly. Thinking about it made me the numb-all version of hard.
“Stop,” she said, “you know it’s not like that anymore.”
“Come on,” I slurred, touching myself. I tried to hide the slur, but that hadn’t been my first drink of the day. Or my first pill.
“Who’s my pretty girl? Smile for me.”
“Call me sometime, will you?”
Fucking bitch, I thought before hanging up. Oh, how I wanted to fuck her brains out, and maybe more. If only...
Oh well, I thought, eyes bobbing listlessly upon the fucking wreck that was my apartment.
Before, I kept things spotless and sanitary. I did my laundry the second the hamper filled up, wash, dry, fold, iron, put away. Now there were dirty clothes on every piece of furniture, empty bottles and containers on every flat surface. The floor was a minefield of trash and puddles. The smell of household cleaners and soap was gone, replaced by something... sad.
The only agreeable smell came from the pile of papers near the front door. It’s ozone of pressed ink smelled so nice…
I blacked out then, not sure for how long. I woke lying on the ground in a half-dried puddle of piss, my head nestled against the help wanted section.
And then it came to me…
The help wanted section! Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
How stupid had I been? Of course, all the job positions would be online, but what if…?
I tore into the pile. That ozone of ink and paper stained my fingers as I flipped and tore and read. Loose sheets crumpled and flew away. I didn’t care about the news; everyone knew the world was going to hell already. I devoured the job ads, holding them in the light pouring through the window.
And I was right! Every single paper had the same offer! Every single one of them!
“Management position. Job is challenging and a test of dedication and skill. Nothing but excellence will be accepted.”
I danced with joy, kicking trash and splashing in puddles as I spun around and around. I tripped over my couch and busted my lip on the armrest, but stood with not a care in the world! The answer had been in front of me all along! Everyone had missed it because no one reads the paper anymore!
There wasn’t a phone number to call, only an address. I had no time to shower. Some other desperate fuck might find the ad too. I laughed at his misfortune.
“Sorry, pal,” I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I’m gonna beat you to it!”
I tried calling Debra. She didn’t answer. I found that she’d cal

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