The Slipping Away(Lee Conrad) Franklin Freemantle left his manager’s office feeling better than when he initially went in. He had dodged a bullet this go around but time was running out. He headed back to his cubicle. The stares of his co-workers followed him.

“Well?”

The voice was from Doug in the next cube.

“I guess I am going to be around for a while. Kathy will be relieved.”

Doug stuck his head into Franklin’s cube. His shirt was wrinkled and he hadn’t shaved that day. “I’m so sick and tired of this. Every quarter they force more of us out the door. Bastards make money hand over fist, but they would rather shove us out to the street and keep sending our work to India. And I am just a perfect target for them…senior, on the old pension plan, and overpaid in their eyes. I’m surprised I made it this far. By the way Franklin, did you hear about the new dress code?”

“What new dress code?”

“No grey hair allowed.”

“Good thing I’m younger than you Doug.”

At the end of the building, the manager stepped out. He took this low-level manager's job a year ago but he wanted more and would do anything to get it. He marched to another cubicle and spoke. A woman in her late 50’s stepped out and head hung down, then followed the manager to his office.

The meeting was short. She came out and burst into tears. A few co-workers went to console her. Others stayed away like she had the plague, fearing that her fate would be theirs if they got too close.

Franklin walked up to her and put his arm around her. He had known Delia for years. Divorced with a daughter in another state. She always took the job seriously and put in more hours than others. But that didn’t help her. As Doug said, her grey hair had done her in.

“Shit Franklin, not only do I get canned, I have to train a replacement from the Philippines. If I don’t they won’t give me my severance. Bastards.”

Franklin walked her back to her cube to begin the clearing out.

Towards the end of the day, a few more cubicles had emptied. The ever noisy chattering into phones and the clacking sound of keyboards began to subside. Boxes had been packed with personal items and family pictures. Some fired employees wrote obscenities on copy paper and taped them to the walls of their cubes. One simply said, you’re next.

“Franklin, let’s go to the café and get some coffee. That last client gave me a headache,” said Doug.

The complex they worked at had two parts. The large area that housed the cubicles, nicknamed “the cattle pen” by the workers, was connected by an indoor walkway to another building three stories high. In the middle was an atrium with a café on the ground floor. Ringing the atrium on the second and third floors were the executive offices and above it all a glass roof shaped like a pyramid. It was meant to be inviting and open.

“Some of us are meeting at the Hillcrest Tavern for a few with some of those who got fired today. Want to go?” said Doug.

“Sure, let me call Kathy. I need to tell her I am ok anyway.”

The Hillcrest Tavern was situated at the end of a strip mall. Nothing fancy but close enough to work to fill a need. And today there was a need.

The bar had filled up early and the tables were already filled with a mix of people now out of work and those still working but wondering who was next.

“Don’t tell me, more jobs have gone right?" said the bartender as Doug and Franklin walked in. “I can always tell when business picks up in the middle of the week.”

Doug settled his large frame on a bar stool and ordered a scotch.

“I’m going to sit here while you act your usual crusader self,” he said with a chuckle.

"Don't know what I can say anymore, Doug. This slash and burn has been going on for so long morale is at rock bottom. When that union organizer was talking to us we should have listened to him. But he is long gone now and those of us left are on our own.”

Doug took a sip of his scotch. “And no age discrimination here, oh no. They just throw a few of the youngsters into the mix to keep the government off their backs.”

“You figured that out by now buddy? I’m going to see who made it and who didn’t. Don’t get too drunk.”

Doug smiled and gave Franklin the finger as he walked away.

Delia caught his eye and waved to him.

“Hey, over here Franklin. You have got to hear this.”

Delia was sitting at a table with Damien, a younger worker. He came into the company with a bunch of new hires all under 30 a few years ago.

“You ok Delia?”

“I’m ok now that the shock is over. Got some prospects I’m going to work on tomorrow. If I get a bite I am out of there. Screw their replacement training. But anyway you have got to hear what Damien found out.”

“OK Damien, fill me in,” said Franklin as he sat down.

“Well, remember our old manager Elaine? We couldn’t understand why she left so abruptly last year. I ran into her the other night at the Lost Dog Café. Hard to believe but the company is even scummier than even we thought.”

“Yeah, hard to believe,” said Franklin sarcastically.

Damien continued. “She was told by corporate to select people on the old pension plan, track them and note every time they had a sick day, were late for a meeting or moved out a deadline. Then build up a case for poor performance and fire them. This on top of the quarterly "culling of the herd". In exchange for this she was promised a bonus for each employee on the old plan she was able to terminate from the payroll and the pension plan. She quit instead of doing it. Said she couldn't live with herself if she got that low and dirty."

“That explains a lot,” said Delia. “Franklin, remember when I told you this new manager got angry when I got a thank you email from one of the clients? Then the impossible assignments? Told I missed deadlines but couldn't substantiate those claims. Or that "others on the team" complained about me. When I asked for details he said he couldn't remember. Yeah, Damien, scummier than we realized."

“Wonder who else was targeted,” said Franklin, thinking of Doug.

“A bunch I would think,” said Damien. “When Gloria was on chemo she felt like crap, but this new manager, instead of showing any sympathy, gave her more work. Of course, she fell behind. And guess what? Fired today for poor performance. Most people don’t talk about it. They blame themselves. The pressure must have been immense. Lessons learned…don’t get sick and don’t get old in this place.”

The night ended with the more sober ones giving friends a ride home and a shoulder to cry on.

“I’m glad I carpooled with you Franklin,” Doug slurred. “I wouldn’t want to hit anyone. Just taking myself out would be just fine.”

Franklin knew Doug’s moods but lately it had gotten worse.

The ride to Doug’s home was quiet. A passed out passenger usually is. Franklin pulled into the apartment complex Doug lived in since the breakup with his second wife. The long hours of the job and trying to stay ahead of the game wreaked havoc on relationships. He helped Doug to his apartment thankful that it was on the first floor.

They thought the firings were over that week. They were wrong. Some bean counter saw that the company was light on its quota of people getting fired. An insatiable beast hungry for more.

Again the manager hunted his prey among the cubicles. People held their breath. He walked past Franklin’s cube and went into Doug’s.

“You can tell me right here.”

“No Doug, come to my office.”

Doug walked towards the manager’s office. A sideways glance to Franklin showed a face of despair.

After five minutes Doug walked back the way he came. Shoulders slumped he passed Franklin’s cubicle and headed towards the Atrium.

“You ok buddy,” Franklin called out.

Doug seemed oblivious to everything around him and kept walking.

Damien went over to Franklin’s cubicle.

“Is he alright?”

“I think he needs to just chill for a bit. Let’s give him a little time and then we’ll go sit and talk with him.

Within minutes an alarm went off and the PA system announced “Security to the Atrium.”

Franklin’s thoughts went to Doug. "This can’t be good,” he said. “Damien, let’s go.”

They sprinted to the Atrium and on arriving saw people huddled about, some in shock, others crying.

Off to the side on the floor was the crumpled and battered body of Doug. He wasn’t moving. Security guards ringed the body.

“No, no…” Franklin turned away.

“What happened?” he asked a woman next to him.

Tears running down her face she told Franklin and Damien how Doug calmly walked through the Atrium and climbed the stairs to the third floor and stood facing the front of the general manager’s office.

“He turned and then just…jumped,” she said between sobs. “Oh my God, why?”

An ambulance arrived and the EMT’s quickly worked on Doug but it was of no use. He was gone.

The site was shut down for the rest of the day and workers were told to go home.

Someone had called the local media and when the company was contacted a spokesperson said it was unfortunate and a tragedy but that the person had been depressed over the breakup of his marriage. Nothing to do with the company.

A week after the funeral Franklin and some of Doug’s co-workers met at the Hillcrest Tavern.

The loss of Doug and the shock of his suicide was still present.

Franklin cleared his throat. It was hard to talk about Doug in the past tense.

“I talked to Doug’s ex-wife after the funeral. Yes, they had problems, but she said he was under a tremendous amount of pressure from work and was drinking more. He got angry at the simplest things. She couldn’t take it anymore. The thing is she said he was fine up to the time this new manager took over. That’s when everything went downhill.”

“But why didn’t we see what was happening to Doug?” Delia asked.

“He slipped away from us and we ignored the signs. We were caught up in our own survival and didn’t see it until it was too late,” said Franklin. “And it was the company’s fault no matter what their corporate mouthpiece said. If our manager is doing it then you can bet others in this company are. They drive people to the brink and over. They have blood on their hands.”

Franklin looked at Delia and Damien. “I think we need to talk to some people about this. We can’t let what happened here happen to anyone else.

“Well, we can contact someone in the media,” said Delia. “This is probably going on in other companies and more than we know. You can bet they are covering it up. They aren’t going to admit they are driving their workers to suicide.”

“Yes, we can do that,” said Franklin. “And let’s start talking to our co-workers about this. Let’s break the silence and make a promise…no one else slips away. No One.”

A soft rain was falling as they left the tavern. They had made a promise and they would see it through.

The end.

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