The Performance Review: an Agon in One Act

[The usual office, this one for a manager at a conservative company with a door but no window, flat screen monitor, posture chair, etc. Steve is sitting in the posture chair. Steve is large but solid, not fat, resembling the human wrecking ball Steve Ballmer of Microsoft, although this resemblance is purely coincidental, Steve's probably a great guy and the author has never worked at Microsoft, and after this, never will.]

[Steve scares his reports but they still underproduce and underperform.]

[Steve is cursing at a pile of performance reviews, with the words "performance review" in 72 point Arial so the viewer sees it.]

Steve: GOD dammit! (pianomissimo).

[Steve walks to his open door and calls an invisible Tom.]

Steve: Tom, I need to see you in my office for a minute.

[Tom enters. He is quite tall, and rather thin. Not quite a geek, being a father now, he used to be a geek. Now he's overwhelmed and regrets listening to the headhunter and taking this particular job.]

Tom: Whussup?

[Steve frowns. He hates it when people talk black, and he really hates it when his fellow white men talk trash, talk "black", although Steve enjoys no particular fellowship with his fellow white men, except at Hooter's on Friday...sort of, and only if the Knicks are winning for a change. If pressed he says it is not "authentic" for white men to talk "black", except he doesn't say "authentic", he says "real" but he means "authentic". Clear? Right, on we go...]

Steve: Close the door, I need to do your performance. And siddown, because you're not gonna like this.

[Now it is Tom's turn to frown. He's a father, all right, of two adorable kids. He would never think to ask for any slack, any lowering of his obscene hours maintaining the wiring data base.]

Tom: Oh (managing stress by breathing slowly).

Steve: I have rated you "mediocre overall".

Tom: [Stirs with surprise and physical discomfort, keeps his cool. For now.] Why? I have always received "excellent" reviews. [You can hear the scare quotes. Both men are allowing themselves to be spoken through and to by a language which they did not create.]

Steve: Excuse me, Tom. This is the first review I've done of your work, and as you must know, Earl is out. He was terminated, and one reason was his slapdash performance reviewing.

Tom: But...uhm...

Steve: Now, you got most of your assignments done on time, and your code is OK according to Willie, and everybody on the team likes your mentoring, but at last week's system walkthrough, our customer people got a look at you, and I'm sorry to say they were not happy with what they saw, or your behavior in Atlanta.

Tom [panicking, sweating, blinking, eyes water and tear up]: My behavior?

Steve: Yup. Peter Jones stopped me in the hallway after the meeting. He said that if he ever sees your face again, we're off the job. Those were his exact words. You OFFENDED him, Tom, and this conduct is UNACCEPTABLE.

Tom [almost shouting]: but HOW!? We had solved each problem on his list!

Steve: well, this confirms my opinion when I met you. You're unpromotable and you have no people skills. Look, Tom, you called Peter's suggestion that we go back to using Visual Basic 6 to enhance the Sarbanes-Oxley compliance system "as out of date as the Dutch empire". Peter Jones was LAUGHING at you behind your back, but he was also very angry.

Tom: Why, for Christ's sake?

Steve: Peter said, "Where did you get those clowns? That Tom individual, pretentiously shooting off his bloody mouth about oxymorons to make God knows what point! He's a jerk!" You OPENED YOUR MOUTH in a critical meeting, and I thought I told you to SHUT UP during these meetings, and SPEAK ONLY WHEN THE CUSTOMER ASKS YOU A QUESTION. You ALSO said that the existing Sarbanes code has to be rewritten for one of your stupid reasons, which you fabricate on the spot to fit your fucking agenda!!!

Tom: Oxy-what the fuck was Peter talking about?

Steve: This is a BUSINESS office. You don't fabricate nonsense in a BUSINESS meeting in a BUSINESS office in a company competing with China. What the hell were you doing, talking about the Dutch empire to a man with Peter Jones' education and prestige? It's a contradiction in terms! Holland, you idiot, is a little country!!! What the hell were you DOING, talking to a Brit about Holland? Who do you think you are? You ever been to Holland? It's a democracy, they have a President, it's TINY!

[At this point, our hero, who is Tom, literally grabs his penis through his Gap twill pants and rolls his eyes back in their sockets in a frightening way, bursting into what Hegel called the "sudden glory": laughter, and although he is sitting, in Steve Dylan's words, "uselessly alone", "the tears on his cheeks" are now "from laughter", like Delilah's.]

Tom: BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA BWAHHH HAA HAA HAAHH HA omigod fuck me HA HA HA HA I can't stand it HA HA HA BWAAAAAA HA HA

Steve: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING AT? I'D FIRE YOUR FUCKING ASS IN A HEARTBEAT FOR INSUBORDINATION!

Tom [suddenly calm is Tom]: Steve? Open Mozilla.

Steve: What!?

Tom: Humor me.

Steve: Justa sec [Steve is truly puzzled, and fears that Tom is trying to show he can't be fired]: Justa sec...

Tom: Go to wikipedia.

Steve: This better not be a waste of time...

Tom: Type "Dutch empire" and hit the search key...

Steve: Yeah, yeah, yeah...

[While they speak, a series of nacreous glows illuminate Steve's red and angry face, at time giving him an interesting roseate tone.]

Steve: OK.

Tom: Dutch empire? And Holland is a what, what does it say...a constitutional monarchy?

Steve: Uh, yeah. I don't care. You're fired.

Tom: Fired? I quit. I've got a job in Jakarta. Used to be called Batavia. During the Dutch empire.

Steve: Yeah, well, you smart byotch, you got ten minutes to clear out your office and shove your useless knowledge up your ass. You SHOULD have been reading that copy of Who Moved My Cheese I gave you...

[Tom is wiping his eyes and sniggering...]

Steve: At that time, Security will come by to collect your ID and the laptop. Karen will send you the Cobra forms...

Tom: Don't bother, I can't afford Cobra...

Steve: Don't interrupt me. You will be paid only for the time you worked, and I will personally see to it that you get a poor reference from HR, and are not paid from now, the next ten minutes being one quarter hour of personal time...

Tom: That's illegal...

Steve [now in a psychotic monotone, a dead voice from the moon] I don't care, sue the company. Call the police. Dial 911, they need a laugh. Now get out.

[Fade to black.]

[As they used to tell us in art school, this work is really only part of a series that needs now to be done, of the ten thousand ways to leave a company.]

Disembodied announcer's voice: Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This has been a work of fiction, but, unfortunately, this isn't The Twilight Zone.

[Credits roll with music: theme from The Twilight Zone.]