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Reality Check

I heard a man’s voice as I walked down the hall. It came from an office up on the right.

“This decision was made after much careful, and thoughtful consideration.”

The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. There was something slightly robotic about it.

“The company has taken great pains to make sure your departure, and transition to a new exciting opportunity elsewhere, go as smoothly as possible.”

I slowed down as I drew near the office. It was Wilson’s new office. What the hell was going on? First a new office, and now he’s firing someone?

I listened in as he continued. “It has been determined that you will receive one day’s pay for every year that you have been employed by the company.”

What the hell was he talking about? One day’s pay. That was cruel.

I stood outside his door and kept listening, wondering who the poor soul was who was getting sacked.

“It’s a generous severance package. It’s all outlined here, in the papers contained in this envelope,” he said. “Oh, you look upset.”

I strained to hear a response but there was none. Maybe he, or she, was in shock. Or too stunned to respond.

Wilson went on with his slow torture. “Please sign here. Oh wait, back up. Your health benefits will remain in place for 30 days following your separation from the company. Your separation, geez that doesn’t sound great does it?”

Good heavens, what was Wilson doing? The man should not be firing anyone. This was like letting a four-year-old drive a car. I grew agitated, even angry, and started to pace the hallway out of sight.

I heard him start up again.

“Okay, how about we say, ‘your bennies?’ Your bennies will be in place for a month after you’ve been canned?”

That was it. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to act. I had to put an end to this cruelty. I burst into Wilson’s office yelling, “You insensitive clod. Stop it right there.”

I froze in my tracks. Wilson was alone in the office, behind his desk wearing some sort of medieval looking helmet that covered his eyes. It was large and clunky and wrapped around his head like something from a horror movie.

“Huh,” he yelled, bolting up from his chair. “Who’s there? Who’s there?”

He was spinning a little this way and that way, and looking toward the ceiling like a guy trying to track a UFO.

“Wilson, it’s me,” I said, hoping to stop all the drifting and moving. Now he had his hands out in front of him, pawing the air and yelling. “Is that you?”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “Settle down. Stop moving, I’m getting dizzy.”

He thumped into the side of his desk, knocking over a big can of something called Honest Al’s Colon Cleaning Green Tea. It dribbled out into a pool of murkiness onto his desk.

I sprang into action, raced around the desk and helped him sit down and get out of the helmet. Then I hit the men’s room, and raced back with some paper towels to sop up the iced tea.

Wilson was disheveled and disoriented when I got back. He glanced down at his desk. “My can of Al’s,” he said. “That was like nine dollars.”

“I’ll buy you another one. It’s my fault. Want to tell me what on earth were you doing?”

He looked at the helmet on his desk. “It’s a virtual reality headset. Haven’t you heard? We’re all going to be trained with these.”

He moved the paper towels around to help absorb more of the mess.

“The company just signed a deal with some tech startup to use VR for training purposes. A lot of the big companies are going that way now. Walmart, Wendy’s, a bunch of other places. They train employees to deal with everything from having to lay someone off, to handling customers.”

I looked at the headset. There was a long cord that ran from it to Wilson’s laptop. “Does it work?”

He shook his head and looked off to the side. “I don’t know. I mean, my session was pretty intense. I picked an intermediate level training module. I had to let some woman go. She got really upset, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I tried to be her friend, and make fun of the word separation, but that didn’t work. She started crying. I probably failed.”

“They grade you?”

“Oh yeah. It’s a training course. You have to show you can keep it together,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll eventually be a ruthless, cold-blooded employee terminator. It’ll take some time, but you’ll get there.”

“Ah, thanks,” Wilson said.

He took a little sip of his colon tea, and pointed at the helmet.

“Want to give it a try? There’s a training module I came across from Walmart’s program, but I’m too afraid to do it,” he said.

“Sure,” I said, sliding the headset over my eyes. “I mean, how realistic can it be? Like an irate customer or something.”

I heard Wilson tap a few keys and say, “Oh, even better.”

The screen flickered to life and I was suddenly facing a huge, angry mob. There were people of every shape and size, their faces tense with nasty scowls. My shoulders jerked and my body tightened as they screamed and ran at me. My instincts took over and I screamed.

“Stop, stop. You’re going to trample me.”

I stood up. I think. I’m not sure. I was disoriented, waving my hands to try and hold off the advancing mob.

“Everybody calm down. What’s the matter?” My mind raced. I had to figure this out. “Do you have a return? Is that it?“ I asked. “Do you have your receipts?”

A big burly guy flew past me, screaming. “Shut up, jerk.”

Now they were all coming at me. Someone threw something at me. I turned, or I think I turned. I had the sensation of running. But their voices were louder now, they were gaining on me.

“Get out of the way,” someone yelled.

I did the only thing I could think of. I ran. But I hit something hard. A wall, virtual or otherwise. “Ow, my knee,” I yelled. Then the screen went black.

I heard Wilson laughing as I took off the headset. Sweat dripped from my forehead. Why was I looking at the ceiling? Had I fainted? I realized I was on the floor on my back across his office.

“Oh, good heavens,” I said, my heart racing.

“That was the, ‘How to work Black Friday’ module. You got a minus seventeen.”

“Welcome to Walmart,” I said.

Published inFiction/Satire