Ontario, a province to plunder

I am a human resources professional. It says so on my card. I get to do Health and Safety training. I know nothing about Health and Safety. But I have a credential, so that makes me an expert. Questioning my ignorance will get you written up. So, my Health and Safety course is cowed, under my thumb. But they are troubled. What is going on with the staff? The elephant in the room: they are afraid of the vaxx.

The Bonobo troop that runs this company pushed for mandatory vaxx back when. They used constructive dismissal to push out resistance, which crushed morale, spiked inside theft, and, boosted sabotage.  Pretty typical effect of constructive dismissal. So what?  It was 2020. Happened all the time.  But, now, it is 2023.  The remainder staff are starting to notice each other vax croaking.  The remainder staff whored themselves for a job and thought the better of it.   So what?  Happens all the time.  Well back then, sure.  But now, no. They do not see it that way. Now they are getting to thinking about heart croak, turbo cancer, and, brain rot.  The vax.  It is a good thing you have a job with hospital plan, I remind them. Rumor control, eh?  Having this job means you need a hospital plan, I do not remind them of that.  They better not talk about it at work, either.  The three in front of me did. Which is why they are doing Health and Safety this Monday morning.  For punishment.  For talking.

There were the three witches from the C suite who cooked up this plan.  I was there.  I sat in the same room.  Monday was the best day to make them suffer.  It would upset them, the most.  Them being the staff brought up on secret charges of talking.  Monday, first thing in the morning.  (The witches only work one day a week, and only the afternoon, so working on Monday, or working in the morning, is a big turn off, for them, them witches.  So, suitable to rub into the noses of the punished).

The three witches had eaten fully of CBC deep think.  I avoid critical attention of their words; instead, to understand their thought, I go with emotions or body language.  They wanted to punish these people.  They wanted them to suffer.  They wanted to do it anonymously.  Deniability.  Have someone else pound the nails for crucifixion detail.  Hand or foot, does not matter.  The wrong doers would be crucified with inconvenience.  A Monday morning training session would be inconvenient. Inconvenience is punishment.

Make sure there is no coffee for them, I was told.  Nothing in writing.  Just as the meeting was breaking up. Just the banal words, softly spoken.  No coffee.  Have the room cold ... it is Monday morning.  The heat will not be on that early.  

What if they bring coffee? I was smart enough not to ask, but the fat one opened her gob.  I had to think fast.  'The bathrooms are locked then,' I said, 'I can tell them to pour out their morning coffee because management says so.'

Two out of three thought that was a good idea. The skinny one, whose spirit animal was a lamprey, muttered some woke joke, and they tittered. So reason did not matter.  Monday morning Health and Safety meeting would be good enough torture.  With or without coffee.  That was the plan.  That was last Wednesday afternoon.  The plan for Monday. 

*     *     *

So, now it is here on Monday morning.   I have three lost souls, out of the cold.  They all brought coffee and muffin.  All three had been overheard and denounced for questioning the vaxx. So they are here for Health and Safety course on Confined Spaces.  

I had the completion certificates already.  The confirmation of completion email was time stamped, ready to roll.  I had a work booklet, a teachers handbook, and a grainy training film that induced obsessive thoughts about the pleasures smoking.  I had my notebook.  They had coffee.  

What would I really talk to them about?  The Truth?  No way!  

What would you do?  Actually, I sold all three to a head hunter. So ...

I told them that they were going to be laid off just before Christmas.  (This was a lie). The company felt bad about it (which would have been a lie), and was going to get Human Resources help them find another job (which is not a lie, because I am getting a commission).  I promised to intercept calls to their managers, assume their identity, and give them glowing references. I already had some leads for them, and had prepared padded resumes for them all for this contingency.  There was nothing really for them to do but eat their coffee and muffin and gloat over their good fortune.  

As for the three witches from the C suite, only this weekend (my time off, do not you know), well, one of them had bought a black market Hyena as a pet, to be closer to Africa.  This last weekend home, her hyena ate her kitten, Justin.  That was Saturday.  Then the hyena ate Justin's parents, Fidel and Margaret. That was on Sunday. I had to deal with a freaked out C suite witch, sell her hyena in the parking lot at Scarborough Mall, and, write a crossword for my side job, too. 

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.  I care.