Short stories series #4

War-weary and battle-scarred.

The phone rang and Meg was jolted into the presence. “Boss wants to see you at once.” That was the crisp voice of the boss’ secretary. Meg knew what was coming. She had known for some time that things were not what they appeared to be. There had been ripples here and there. There were tale-tale signs that not everything was right. People around you could be devious and scheming. She thanked the secretary and hurried to the boss’ office even though she was dreaming up her next feature article after having done the required legwork. Bosses couldn’t be kept waiting as they held the hilt while employees held the blade of the double-edged sword of employment.
She knocked on the heavy door of the boss’ office. She could almost hear the ominous sounds of her painful heartbeat. The old geezer greeted her with a smile. Bosses almost always did. The crocodile would lie in shallow water, smiling and welcoming fish into its jaws as described in How Does the Little Crocodile in Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. And the usual pleasantries were exchanged. Bosses were all the same the world over. First of all, before they started firing the shells, they would massage your ego with sweet words of praise. Meg knew this was just the calm before the storm. “You have been turning out very good work and for that I thank you.” Meg just nodded because those words didn’t mean anything to her. She was waiting for the real, biting words. Then the storm broke. The attack was relentless.
“I’m not too happy with one of your articles. It was critical and it angered some people.” Many more harsh words were uttered after that. After the sweet words were forgotten, the harsh ones remained forever in Meg’s memory. She had tried to explain but her boss had not allowed her to. They were all the same. If they had to think of their staff as individuals it would make their job very complicating. It would be easier to lump people up as writers, animators, graphic designers, engineers or whatever. They forgot that these people could not think and feel alike. Meg’ boss wasn’t interested to understand how her mind worked. She was, therefore, defenceless.
Meg did not argue. That’s the way it always had been with the employer-employee relationship. If the feature article had been critical why did the editor have it published? He should be held responsible. Meg knew that people could not accept the truth and that was why they could never achieve excellence. She was a writer and she had always taken pains to turn out the best pieces. Why couldn’t the rest? Some writers could send in mediocre feature articles and these were still published. She was just trying to maintain standards and save the magazine. Discerning readers would stop buying it if many of the articles carried so many language and factual errors. The editor had not been doing his job and had very cleverly put the heat on Meg’s article. He must have approved of it so that he could use it as his first line of defence.
“I want you to promise never to even allude to anything people might not like and never to criticise anybody ever again. You can’t do as you like. We have rules in this country. You’re paid a damn good salary so you had bloody better work hard.” Such words gave the boss the psychological advantage.
Meg just nodded. Anybody listening to the tirade would think that she had not been working while in the employ of the company. If that was the case why didn’t the boss give her the boot? There were veiled threats of termination of employment. She swallowed her pride and just listened to all the crap dished out to her while wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow her in. After her boss was satisfied that the message had sunk in she was dismissed. She left the office in a daze, mutilated and her self-esteem laid to waste.
Meg staggered back to her office, licking her wounds. She felt violated. Her intentions had been misunderstood and taken out of context. All she cared about was improving standards and maintaining professionalism and now she stood accused of harming others. She was now sure that this so-called freedom of speech in the country was a farce. Everything written and published was under surveillance. She had the experience and the know-how to run a great magazine which would sell. The only problem was financial backing. If she could she would start her own magazine, be her own boss and give the old geezer a run for her money. She would have to seriously think about that after having been so thoroughly mauled that day. She had now been asked to prostitute her art in order to please some people. No artist true to her or his art would do that.
That night Meg cried herself to sleep. She could not sleep for hours as her mind was actively recalling the events of the day. She tried to blank it all out but she could not. She fell into a fitful sleep, resolving to find the money so that she could start a magazine of her own and she would make it the best ever. A high quality would certainly be her first priority. People must get their money’s worth or the venture would have to fold up. So many magazines had failed and the bosses ended up in debts and bankruptcy. Dared she take the plunge? She had felt war-weary and battle-scarred working for people who did not understand her all this while and it was time to break free. Now she understood what a paradigm shift meant. There should never have been a paradigm in the first place because it limited people’s thoughts and caused their minds to reject things that were unfamiliar to them. She entered the shadowy world of sleep in the wee hours of the morning, psyching herself up that she was free as long as she did not allow others to control her thoughts.
It was a public holiday the next day. Meg woke up late but the dawn of a new day gave her hope of better things to come if she put her mind to it. She could get the financial backing if people had confidence in her but again they might want to have a say in what her magazine published. Lots of people had their own agenda so nobody would do anything on purely altruistic grounds. It would be better to come up with a viable working paper and to try applying for a loan from the bank. That move would also be fraught with danger for if the magazine failed she would end up indebted but that was a chance she would have to take. The saying “faint hearts don’t win fair ladies” would apply here. Well, as “hope springs eternal in the human breasts” and as people must have dreams Meg would take that chance to achieving personal integrity.