Company Policy

"Miss Turin? Mr. Birch would like to see you in Hr. Please report promptly, and with a smile!" I shot up in bed. The woman's voice was lilting and chipper, but it may as well have been the shriek of a banshee. Crap. Did I oversleep? I can't afford a third tardy penalty in the same quarter.

I glanced frantically toward my clock. 5:00 am. A full hour before my shift in the warehouse downstairs. The electricity of fear was rapidly drained from my body, replaced by the oppressive exhaustion of despair. No meeting with HR was good, but an early morning meeting bode particularly ill.

I stood up, and my bed sprang into the storage position, allowing me access to my closet. I opened the tight compartment to my drab assortoment of grey polos and tan khakhis, punctuated by a single bright red dress, pristine for wont of wear. I considered putting it on, but "company business demands company garb," and besides, it might give Mr. Birch the wrong idea. I squirmed out of my matching pink kitty pajamas, and into my work uniform and a sports bra, as much to avoid uncomfortable glances as chafing from that insufferable smirk embroidered on the polo. Closing the closet, I was accosted by the mirror and the visage of a ghoul. I considered makeup, or maybe hairspray, but instead I opted to try for pity over charm. Turning to my largely unused writing desk, I reached into the back of the middle drawer, but my fingers found only pens, staples, and erasers. Shoot, I must have worn it to bed again...but did it slip off? Whatever, no time to look for it; I couldn't afford a penalty for failure to attend a disciplinary meeting.

Stepping outside, I turned the sign from "early to bed" to "early to rise" and wished dearly that these doors had locks. I didn't need some snoop finding that locket before I did.

Rushing past the rows of grey doors and golden shareholder plaques, I neared the stairwell. My blood boiled as I saw a sign that said "Stairway closed for cleaning. Thank you for your patience. I cursed, decidedly over my breath, and started running back to the elevator. A mock spotlight flashed red overhead, next to a sign in cheerful script reminding me that "a steady pace wins the race!" But employing the hare's strategy, I quickly reached the elevator. I battered the up arrow, and slowly the box descended and the doors opened to its grimy, ill-kept, oft-used chamber. Impatiently, I shoved quarters into the slot, and a digital panel formed a pixelated smirk, and chirped "service with a smile!" The buttons lit up, and I jammed the number 10. Slowly, the tin box lurched upward, ascending to my judgment.

When the doors crept open again, I was confronted with a towering man in a grey suit and golden tie. I began to step out, but he held out a massive hand. In a deep, rumbling, but gentle voice, he said "I believe you forgot something," tapping his smiling badge, which read J. Harvey." Shaken by the force of his presence, I stammered and started fumbling in my purse, knowing full well that my badge was likely with my locket, back in my room. He waved his hand, and consoled "It's okay, miss-"

"Turin," I offered sheepishly.

"Miss Turin. Just remember to grab it before your shift. And where may I direct you this morning?" He smiled, and it even seemed to reach his eyes.

"I was summoned to see Mr. Birch, sir. I'm not sure what for."

A hint of concern flickered across Mr. Harvey's face. "Ah, he does like to take his meetings early. He'll work with you, if you work with him. To your right, then third row on your left, fourth office. Right after the plaque for Mr. Schlafly. Good luck, dear." Before I could turn to leave, Mr. Harvey nodded politely toward a jar on a shelf labeled "bigger tips make bigger smiles." I dropped in a quarter, and he bowed his head appreciatively.

The steps to Mr. Birch's office were slow and apprehensive. The journey thus far had been hasty, but now that I was close, each second spent outside that office, ignorant of the cause for this meeting, was precious. All too soon, I found myself before Mr. Phil Schlafly's plaque, my hand around the door knob to Mr. Birch's demesne. I knocked twice, and a warm voice chimed "Miss Turin? Please come in." Reluctantly, I turned the handle.

Before me sat a spectacled bald man in a white button down and golden tie, his grey suit coat hanging in his chair. His smile was as wide as a frog's, toothy as a crocodile's, and scarcely seemed to leave his face, even as he spoke. As I approached, he stood up, and extended a hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Turin. Or may I call you Alina?"

I shook his hand meekly. "Alina is okay, Mr. Birch."

He clasped his other hand around mine. "James, I insist." Still smiling, he sat down and gestured grandiosely for me to do the same. "And how are you this morning? You slept well, I hope?"

I paused, as he waited for my reply. "Fine, thanks. Normally I'd be getting ready for my shift. It starts at 6:00..." I glanced at the clock. 5:24.

Waving his hand, he explained "Oh, don't worry, Alina, you won't owe the company reimbursement for your time with me. And hopefully we can resolve this before you've missed too much of your obligation."

What relief. "On that note, sir, or, James, what have you called me in for?" My palms started sweating as I asked.

The rictus grin disappeared momentarily. "I slept just fine. I find a nice Smile Co. herbal tea knocks me right out. Would you kindly hand me that folder behind you? It's the top one, on the cabinet."

It was a thick manila folder, positioned beneath a picture of the company founder, posing in front of his garage, with the text "no matter where you start, through hard work, you will prosper." When I turned to hand Mr. Birch the folder, the smile had returned.

"Now, let's see, Ali. Internal affairs has noted an inconsistency between your recent behavior and the information in your contract, and thus the ethics board has asked that I investigate. I must say, for such a model employee, I was quite disappointed by what I found." My throat closed around my heart.

"You see, Smile Co. is a company that prides itself on its ethical sensibilities, and we expect our employees to exemplify our morals, including honesty and an abiding sense of decency. When we took over your former employer, we inherited your contract, which states that you are a homosexual. This normally conflicts with our ethos, but the board elected to do you a favor, and take advantage of the diversity tax credit as reward for our grace."

"So? That's nothing new, and I've been working here for years. Why bring it up now?"

The smile disappeared, and Mr. Birch looked as a frustrated teacher. "However, contrary to your contract, you have been seen by other team members engaged in romantic behavior with a man.

Oh, no, Virgil. But did they know?

A steely gaze crept over Mr. Birch's glasses. "Now, Ali, normally I would be content to applaud your moral revelation, but this poses a number of problems. first, you have failed to report an ongoing relationship, which means the wage demerit for such distractions has not been properly applied, constituting theft of wages from the company. Additionally, if we were to be evaluated at this time, we would be found to be ineligible for the tax credit, another instance of theft as a result of your dishonesty. Typically, this would constitute an immediate dismissal, and a suit for the wages owed to us. But there is an opportunity for both you and the company to cut our losses."

I cast daggers into Birch as I growled "and what is that?" Just beneath my rage dwelt terror. I could run off, get another dead end job, and pay off these jackals. But if they knew about Virgil...he'd never find work again. Not many companies were "tolerant" of people like him. They saw them as too much of a liability. Too variable.

"Since your fellow, responsible, team memebrs saw the two of you at a company retreat, we deduced that this man must also be an employee, and must also be avoiding wage demerits, along with who knows what other misbehavior. But your team members were only able to identify you. So if-"

"Absolutely not. Fire me right now and piss off."

My fire was matched by Birch's frigid gaze, that amphibious mouth drawn tight. "Now, Miss Turin, I understand that you're upset that you were caught. But you may wish to weigh your options carefully. If you identify him, we will retain your contract in exchange for the wages you owe. If you do not, this might help us anyway." His slimy fingers reached into the manila folder and retrieved a plastic baggy with a locket inside. MY locket. When my eyes landed on that tiny silver heart, my spirit left me, alongside my voice, my rage, and my will to resist. But thankfully, Birch kept talking.

"This locket has two pictures, and two names. Yours, with the name Tulip, and another, with the name Wolf. We haven't yet found any males with a name or surname similar, and the face doesn't match any of our registered employees."

I had to suppress a sneer as a faint whisper of hope echoed in my mind. At least bigots were stupid.

"But we can order our employees to submit new images, and compare them to the locket with a facial analysis program. However, this costs a lot of money and time, which is why we're willing to make an arrangement with you."

I sat in silence fore a while, as Birch waited patiently and expectantly. I slumped, held my head in my hands and sobbed. I imagined Virgil, stranded in the steets, or worse, in conversion therapy, going into debt for abuse and a certificate declaring him "normal." How could I live with that picture etched into my mind. But if I didn't...

"Fine." I gasped between heavy sobs. "Fine, I'll do it."

Birch's warm demeanor returned. "I know it's hard, Ali, but you're making the right decision here. For yourself, and for the company. I heard his char squeak as he got up, and in a moment, I felt his wretched claws on my shoulder. I grinned, and stood up as hard and fast as I could, ramming my head into his jaw. I felt a sharp, searing pain, but Birch slumped to the floor. Virgil always told me I had a thick skull.

As quickly as I could move, but a little woozy from the strike, I snagged the locket. groping for the phone on his desk, I punched in the emergency number for the Building-wide telecom. All of Smile Co would hear me, but only Virgil would be listening. Struggling to stifle the sobs, I whimpered "I'm so sorry, handsome, but you're gonna have to be a one man wolf pack for now. Your tulip will always love you."

Now was the time to move. I grabbed the locket and crashed out of the officce. Storming down the hallways, I searched for a window. Thundering footsteps sounded quickly behind me, along with Harvey's stern and no longer gentle voice bellowing "Don't do anything stupid, Miss Turin." Too late for that.

I spotted a window, a portal to Virgil's freedom, and I pumped my legs until they felt like iron and my lungs like fire. I balled up my fist with the locket inside and shattered it, shards tearing into my skin. No sooner had I tossed the locket, as far as I could from this twisted place, than I felt colossal limbs envelop me, and Harvey's voice admonishing "You're going to be in a world of trouble, dear."

I cried, but beneath the tears I was smiling, and I whispered "I can live with that."