Holy Water (5 page)

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Authors: James P. Othmer

Tags: #madmaxau, #General Fiction

BOOK: Holy Water
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Right. Real American tragedy. This goddamn outsourcing. Soon we will outsource ourselves to death as a nation. Anyway, tell him and you

re fired too.

 


What about Nanoabsorbers™?

 

Giffler looks at the ceiling for cameras,
mics
. He bends down, cuts his flat hand across his throat.

Already causing problems in white mice.

 


Too much sweat?

 


No.
Massification
.

 


What?

 


Growths.

 


Tumors?

 


Your word. I

m sticking with
massifications
.

 


Which technically is not a word.

 


Which technically is why I have a particular affinity for it.

 


But it

s the same ingredients as always, reconstituted.

 


All I know is something went
kaflooey
and they

re pulling the plug. Your entire division is being
rightsized
.

 


Layed
off. Fired.
Wrongsized
.

 


Think up a better word for it, a more employee- and economy-sensitive phrase that big business and cable hosts will embrace, and we

ll make millions. We

ll write a book.

 


Pillow-fucked,
redundafired
,
gangBangalored
.

 


Should have seen it coming. Asia rising. China. India. Shit, I

ve already got our nanny making our two-year-old watch every Chinese-language and Bollywood piece of shit she can get her hands on.
Bend It Li
k
e My Big Fat Crouching Hindu Wedding.
To understand those cultures is to be eternally wealthy.

 


So why not me?

Henry speculates about the package the others have been given, wonders if maybe being an outsourcing victim
is just the fashionable kick in the ass his life needs right now. A chance at a fresh start. Away from focus groups, team meetings, armpits, or worse: Giffler.

 


Because you were right is why. You
are
a bit of a knowledge worker. Your previous job, the one you were doing five minutes ago, was not a knowledge job per se. Anyone can stand here and whack off while chicks apply things to their naked sweaty pits. I did it for years. But your supplementary skills, they can

t be replicated.

 

Henry stares through the glass. He thinks one of the participants is saying she feels dizzy, but because she

s saying it while looking into her armpit it

s hard to read her lips.

You know,

he says,

there are probably employees who would volunteer to be, you know,
rightsized
, if the package were enticing enough.

 


Indeed there are. And those are precisely the ones we cannot afford to lose. Those who want to leave us of their own volition but lack the courage or bank account to do so are indispensable. Beloved.

 


For instance, I know someone who would love that, um, opportunity.

 


Not gonna happen, Tuhoe.

 


So where am I being transferred to? Dental? Bath and Body? Chemical Weapons?

 


Here

s a hint: two thirds of the earth is covered with it.

 


Bullshit?

 


Hint number two: two thirds of the people on this great planet can

t get enough of it.

 


I

m being transferred to the Department of Bacon? Please,
rightsize
me, Giffler. Downsize me.
GangBangalore
me. Offer me a package. Make me a victim of whatever euphemism for shit-canned Human Resources can come up with.

 

Giffler laughs, but shakes his head.

 


Water?

 


Yes, sir.

 


We don

t even have a water division.

 


Do now. Like . . .

Giffler counts on his fingers.

Like six. They

re buying up companies like there

s no tomorrow. Like when they had to play catch-up with the whole trans-fat scare. Twenty-grain this. Organic that. Some number-crunching
muckety
-muck must have told the C-
suiters
between lap dances at their favorite upscale gentleman

s sports cabaret that water was the future. A tremendous quote-unquote long-term growth driver. So they

ve been on a tear.

 


Water? I

m not—

 

Giffler waves him off.

We

re talking the sustenance of billions. It

s over my head, but they told me that by 2025, five billion of the world

s nine billion people will be facing a scarcity of clean water. So there

s big money to be made. Every time you take a shower, a drink, or a shit, someone
somewhere

s
going,
Ca-
ching
!

 


I have no background in water.

 


Not true. Did you not minor in geology at Northeastern?

 


Christ, Giffler.

 


If Americans continue to use their current average of one hundred gallons per day, thirty-six states will have significant shortages by 2013.

 


So I

d be focusing on what, the Southwest? Arizona, Califor
nia?”

 

Giffler shakes his head.

There

d be some traveling.

 


I hate traveling. You know that. I hate flying. I hate leaving New York. Where, then?

 


I

m not at liberty to say. But you might want to gain some proficiency with chopsticks.

 


Japan?

 


And get your malaria, your bird, your swine flu shot. Your Ebola booster, if there is such a thing.

 


I will not go to China.

 


Not China or India per se. From what I hear. Wonderful cultures, though. On the rise. My guess is that someplace that is impoverished, polluted, riddled with disease, and even more economically flawed than we are would be your quote-unquote territory. But what do I know?

 


I have no knowledge of the industry, the languages. I know nothing about those cultures. I hate travel. Plus you know that I have a huge problem with germs.

 


These are some of the most fertile economies in the world
we

re talking about. It is the Asian century, Tuhoe. You

ll probably just be a relationship placeholder until they figure out what they

re really gonna need, but think of how you can exploit that on your resume.

 


Placeholder?

 


Let

s call it investor relations. VP of global water, investor relations, let

s call it. Talk about fulfilling. You could actually be doing something that makes a difference.

 


So it

s what—desalinization? Ultra-filtration? Some new way to help people in the third world have access to fresh water?

 


Bottled, actually.

 


We

re going to give them bottled—

 


No. Not them. You

re going to help them learn customer relations and set up a customer call center for a U.S.-based bottled water company. More back-office stuff than anything. But still, terribly important.

 


Which company?

 


Oh, you know. The one that fucking hippie lesbian couple started in Vermont.

 


Happy Mountain Springs? They

re privately held.

 


Were. Apparently even save-the-planet hippie lesbians have their price. Of course, they

re contractually obligated to stay on as the face of the company for three years and let us use their likenesses.

 


Why do you need me if you

re outsourcing it?

 


Someone

s got to
set up
the outsourcing. Teach the locals how to perform as
cluelessly
as our customer service people in Lincoln, Nebraska—for a quarter the salary, of course.

 


Jesus, Giffler.

 


Let

s call it
presourcing
. Much more 2010, much more marketable than outsourcing.

 


I

m not gonna do it.

 


Fine. Just remember that refusal to accept a plum assignment like the one that has just been hypothetically proposed to you would constitute a breach of contract that would result not in a rightsizing, or laying-off, or the gift of a package or parachute, golden or otherwise, but in a good old-fashioned

You

re fired and Luther here
from Security is giving you six minutes to clean your sorry personals out of your desk and get your ass out of the building.

Hypotheti
cally, of course.

 


What about you? What are they doing with you?

 


Me? I

m firing people, mostly. But until the day comes when I must outsource my despicable self, I

ll be your U.S.-based boss and life coach.

 


I

m not gonna do this, Roger. I

ve got so much shit going on at home. I can

t. . . My wife and I aren

t even . . .

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