Resource Allocation

Corporate mismanagement with catastrophic consequences.

Every hour, on the hour, Janet’s Halloween-themed desk clock cackled like a witch. Alexander bristled. He could do nothing to silence it. Permission had been granted for each department to decorate for the holiday. Managers encouraged it, extolling passive aggressive reprimands for a lack of participation. Alexander received several, with reminders that the department with the best costumes and decorations would receive a free dinner and drinks the following month — after working hours of course.

“Hey Janet, would it be possible to turn off the sound for a bit?” Alexander asked.

“Alex, where’s your Halloween spirit?” Janet asked.

“I’m just trying to finish up a few things before the costume party begins.”

“I have permission, Alex.”

Yes, Janet, you have permission. Our manager, Brad, gave you permission. We know about you and Brad. Everyone does. In your case, participation was encouraged in both Halloween-themed activities and extracurricular activities.

When Alexander worked at home, he put on noise-canceling headphones, zoned out and became twice as productive. Streaming music at work had been banned. No guest Wi-Fi to connect to either. Headphones were forbidden unless a conference call demanded it. Being in the office, available and connected inspired collaboration. A connected workplace. That’s what they called it. Whoever they were.

Alexander nudged the full duffel bag under his desk with his toe. The contents inside were a comfortable reminder, a powerful demonstration of force, the final reckoning for a group of drones that buzzed incessantly around him daily.

“My brother from another mother,” Brad said, sitting uncomfortably close on the corner of Alexander’s desk.

“Hey, Brad, I know I mentioned it a few times already, but it’s Alexander, not Alex,” Alexander said.

“Yeah, we’ve got bigger fish to fry my friend. I hear the accounting department is going all out on the costumes. We need to level-up in technology, and since you never come prepared, I’m going big on your behalf,” Brad said.

“How’s that?” Alexander asked.

“You know the Teletubbies?”

“I… don’t think so.”

Brad brought out his phone and showed Alexander a video of the children’s television show, making sure to highlight which employee would be in the costumes representing Tinky-Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po, the four toddler-esque cast members. They were a five person team, leaving room for one more character in the ensemble. Brad expressed the importance of Sun Baby, a giggling chubby-faced baby head rising up like the sun over the horizon at the beginning of every episode. Alexander’s costume. But Sun Baby had no body.

“You’ll wear the headpiece and an adult diaper,” Brad said. Janet snickered.

“I’m not comfortable doing that,” Alexander said.

“It’s not about you!”

“Can’t I just wear the headpiece? I think it would have the intended effect.”

“Intended effect? This isn’t software, Alex. We’re not designing one of your buggy programs, and I’m not losing out on the free dinner,” Brad said, leaning in close, and then in a whisper, “It’s at the Regent Plaza Hotel, and I’m going to surprise Janet with a key to our room after the party. If you blow it for me, you’ll never get another raise or promotion again.”

Brad stormed off, returned with the Sun Baby costume, reminded Alexander his contribution required wearing the diaper and gave Janet a wink as he strode back to his office.

Alexander stared at the diaper, a quiet emptiness expanding, creating a void backfilled with disillusionment and disgrace. The cursor on his screen blinked rhythmically at the end of a line of code, one of thousands upon thousands he wrote to meet unattainable deadlines. Lost evenings were spent on calls with angry customers in countries around the world, wondering why their software didn’t work as expected. Brad’s doing. He was a terrible programmer, promoted up into management as an alternative.

When darkness descended, a few people got up from their cubicles and made their way into the building’s atrium, cheeks a bright glow, flushed by company supplied alcohol they sneaked back to their desks in the last hours of the day. Janet rose up from her seat, walked over to Alexander’s desk, looked down at the diaper and smiled. Her clock cackled in the background.

“I hope you’re not too cold. I’m sure you’ll be warmed by the heat of your own rays, Sun Baby,” Janet said.

Laughter, the clanking of beer bottles and the increasing volume of drunken co-worker’s voices echoed throughout the office. Alexander could smell them already, the sickening scent of hard liquor mixed with sweat. It enraged him. His frustrations bubbled over, and would culminate into a final act of sweet revenge. Nothing could stop his carefully planned execution. Brad stood over him.

“I’m going to change. We’ll go together. I want to make sure you follow through,” Brad said.

“You don’t have to worry, Brad, I’m coming. I’m looking forward to a free meal, too. A well deserved reward,” Alexander said, picking up the costume and the duffel bag under his desk.

“Well, that’s more like it,” Brad said, slapping Alexander on the back.

The two men walked to the bathroom, where a fuzzy purple headpiece and bodysuit sat lifeless on the tile floor, waiting for Brad to step into it and play the part of Tinky-Winky. Alexander walked quickly into the large handicap stall, threw the head piece and diaper on the ground and gently laid the duffel bag at his feet. Tonight he would find peace, a final reconciliation for decades spent unjustly serving his inferiors.

After several minutes of waiting, Brad said, “Don’t disappoint me, Alex. You’re just as much an embarrassment to me as you are to yourself. There’s no getting around that now.”

Alexander opened the stall door and stepped out to face Brad, who looked confused and then angry upon realizing his future plans with Janet would be ruined.

“So you did bring a costume — a nice one, too, but it doesn’t matter. You’re going to take it off, even if I have to strip you down,” Brad said. With large, comical costumed fingers he reached for his subordinate’s extravagant overcoat, an action met with a painful reaction as Alexander broke several of his boss’s fingers in a blinding movement. Brad tumbled back against the trash can and fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

“It may look like a costume to you, Bradley, but this formal dining attire is 800 years old, a gift from the original wearer, a vampire named Laurentiu,” Alexander said, smiling to show his two pointy incisors.

“But, th-th-that’s impossible. I’ve seen you outside during the day, even going for walks,” Brad said.

“An amazing thing about our kind is we’re tremendously cooperative. Politics, education, technology… science. We’ve modified our genetics. Where once the sun’s rays were an indomitable foe, they are now a source of energy and fascination. Crosses are still an unfortunate revulsion, but I suspect you’re not a religious man.”

“Wh-what are you going to do?”

Screams could be heard in the distance, not shouts of jubilation, but terrified, corporatized shrills filling the halls.

“I’ve invited friends from the old country to the party. Tonight is our night to be served. No need for costumes or judges. We’ll eat for free,” Alexander said.

Brad tried to shield his neck, but succumbed to the inevitable, taking his last breath while entombed in the body of Tinky-Winky.