101. The Power of Keys
© Bruce Goodman 19 January 2014
Leslie (male) had spent years conniving. Since he started work at the firm seventeen years earlier, he had planned to become the boss. He ran other people down. He told concocted stories about fellow work mates to make himself look good. And today! A promotion! He was the boss! He had made it!
His superiors had flown in especially. He was... “crowned”. They gave him a whole bunch of keys; thirty/forty in all. They were the keys to every room, and every thing, at the firm. The keys were power. Power! POWER!
Wine and cheese followed the presentation of the keys. Leslie thanked everyone who worked there: ”You toil hard; you are the ones who make the company great and successful; put your noses to the grindstone, using elbow grease to work your fingers to the bone – for the good of all.”
What he was really thinking as he spoke was, “Eat shit, losers. I’m the boss now. I got the bunch of keys to everything. You’ve got the key only to your one little, insignificant domain.” The superiors flew back to where they came from. Leslie was now in charge. But first, he must have a pee. Too much wine, perhaps. He did his business in the toilet. He accidentally dropped the keys in the pan.
How was he to get them out? He wasn’t going to put his hand into the yellow urine and pick them up. The keys were heavy; too heavy to go up the U-shaped pipe before going down the drain. He would flush, clear the water, and then pick them up.
He flushed. The keys had gone down the sewer pipe.
For the next three weeks, Leslie had to ask each worker to use their key to unlock things, to lock things, to let him in, to let him out. He could hear each one thinking: “Eat shit, loser.”
After three weeks, Leslie changed every lock in the place. He alone had the keys. He alone now held the power.