Chapter Text
Tenhold crushed his pink-slip into a jagged ball as his boss -- former boss -- delivered a cutting lecture about professional conduct while talking to customers. "It's a call center, goddammit," he seethed, "customers will fucking shout at you. They'll abuse you and you'll handle it maturely." The paunchy, balding HR Manager thrust his finger into Tenhold's face. "Maturely, you say," Tenhold intoned, "I assure you, the language I used was very mature. I wouldn't repeat it around any schoolchildren."
The manager's children were posing in a framed photograph on his mahogany desk. The three little girls were all fresh-faced smiles and immaculately coiffed hair. Their identical blonde pigtails were curled and adorned with patriotic bows; the photo must have been taken on the fourth of July. When the potbellied manager caught Tenhold staring at the photo, he slammed it face-down on his desk and retreated behind it. "I can't keep you on," he sighed, "I tried, and tried, and tried to mentor you. Help out, you know? I thought you could get somewhere, kid, but that attitude isn't going to work in your favor." Tenhold glanced at the floor sheepishly. He'd been through this song-and-dance thrice already, at various low-skill jobs, but he'd never had a boss who seemed so personally disappointed by his failure. It was embarrassing. Tenhold clenched his fist and silently waited for his dismissal.
"Don't you have something to say for yourself, Tenhold?" his manager asked, "That's not even a rhetorical question. I seriously suggest you head to a counseling center after your visit with the unemployment office, because you cannot communicate productively. I would like you to leave now."
Tenhold left. He didn't have any personal possessions in his cubicle, so it was just him, a damning pink slip, and the sanitized hallways of a corporate park. Perfectly radiant fluorescent lights, brighter than the sun, lined the ceiling and led Tenhold directly to the elevator. Therapy, huh? Tenhold stepped into the elevator and contemplatively watched his reflection in the stainless steel door. "Hello," he said to his mirror image, "How can I help you today?" Tenhold cleared his throat and tried again, "Hu-llo. How may I service -- no -- help -- what am I doing wrong? What do you want?" Tenhold's reflection grimaced back at him. The elevator door slid open and he stepped out into the lobby, which was lit by a single enormous bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. The artificial light stung Tenhold's eyes as he passed under it.
He left the office park and walked to the bus stop.