About half a hell year had now gone by since our union was formed. Our work cycles were uneventful and seemed to be about the same as they ever were with one exception. Our production numbers were going through the roof! We were getting so much more product out during each cycle that the devil had to add on more workers and get more containers for the white and yellow stuff. It looks like happy workers are more productive than unhappy ones. Although we were generally happy compared to half a year ago, we still wanted out.

  It was time to have a talk with the devil. All of the workers who had an opinion about that talk elected me to be the spokesman. You could say that I was now the union steward and that meant I had to take any grievances to the boss and work things out. This was a job that I was not completely comfortable with but was willing to take on. After all, it’s just the devil, right? I had said a few words to him before on occasion, but a regular sit down meeting was a whole different thing. I was nervous.

  Getting the meeting set up was a piece of cake. I could not believe that all I had to do was say “Hey boss. Ya gotta minute?” I turned just a little to my left and there he was practically touching my shoulder. Scared the crap out of me! “Oh…Ok.” I said. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  He was remarkably not annoyed and said “Sure, come on in.” I should have known he would do another door trick. This time the door did not open into a fire filled oven, but instead, a huge modern looking office awaited us.

  I reluctantly stepped over the threshold and immediately felt like I was alive again. The air was warm, comfortable and odor free. There was no overwhelming sense of dread or despair. I stopped just inside the office and inhaled three long breaths of the pure fresh air. The devil then broke my tranquility with his familiar loud voice. “Well…are you just going to stand there or come in and sit down?”

  “Yes, uh, of course.” I stammered. As I walked toward the back center of the room where his desk was, I observed the other objects in the room. There was a large brown overstuffed pillowed couch and matching chair. Nice paintings adorned the walls between the massive windows which spanned from floor to ceiling. “Is that real mahogany?” I asked as I approached his oversized executive desk.

  “Yes. Why? Did it used to be yours?” He chuckled a little as he answered and told me to have a seat. “Would you like a drink?” His polite manner and question puzzled me a bit but I did answer in the affirmative.

  “Sure, why not make it a double since you’re offering.” I don’t think he found my comment amusing.

  He reached for a glass decanter perched on a credenza behind the desk, poured two shot glasses full and said, “Enjoy.” Was it the comfortable earthlike atmosphere in the room or was that the best single malt scotch ever distilled? I had drank some whisky in my days, so I am going to say it was the latter.

  Now it was time to get down to business. My chest began to feel warm as if I were standing too close to a roaring fireplace. It was not my nerves, but instead the good whisky was already in my veins warming my lungs. Ok, where was I? Crap! I had not even started our conversation yet and the only thing I could think about was getting another shot. “Would you care for another?” the devil asked almost as if he could read my mind.

  “Sure. Why not? One more won’t kill me. Right?” Well, you know what I mean. He filled the two glasses about half full. The dark amber liquid climbed the inside walls of the glass indication its high alcohol content.

  “To business,” the devil said as he raised his glass toward mine.

  “To business.” I replied. The glasses touched with a light clink and we swallowed the nectar of the, um, nectar of the grains. Yeah.

  “Speaking of business,” I spoke up with confidence. “Things have been going pretty good around here lately, true?”

  “Pretty good?” the devil asked. “Hell yes! I’m having a hard time getting enough empty cargo carriers for you guys to fill. And I have a gut feeling that you are about to ask for something in return for all the hard work. But, before you do, let me say this. You seem to have a way of inspiring the rest of the workers to really stay in line and get things done. I could use someone like you to kinda be my right hand man. You know, like a permanent position. The perks would be great,” he said. “Perks like fresh air, good whisky. Who knows, maybe even some sleep?”

  “Wow, I don’t know.” I said without giving it much thought.

  Sensing my hesitation, the devil offered to sweeten the pot. “Well, there are other perks that might interest you. Girls, or guys, whatever. Perhaps food? By the way, would you like a nice Cuban cigar? No? Turkish cigarette then?”

  “Hell no!” I replied, “Those things will kill ya.”

  I actually started to see myself as some sort of foreman lackey for the devil. I knew I could do the job in question and I surely wouldn’t mind the sleep. No, wait. The girls. No, it would be the sleep for sure, the sleep. Then that one word from the devil’s temptation pitch came back into my mind. “Permanent.” That was just the opposite of what I had come here for in the first place. I wanted, we wanted a clear path to getting out of hell and having our second chance at getting things right. “With all due respect, boss, I’m going to have to pass on that offer.”

  “What?” he said with a bit of disbelief in his voice. “Are you sure about that? I can make you feel things that you have not even fantasized about yet.”

  Yep, it just got a little weird! “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” My voice cracked a little as I said it.

  The devil placed the glass stopper back into the decanter and put it back on the credenza. It looked like his generosity was over. “Well then, just exactly what is it that you want?” he asked. I did not answer. I had to totally regroup my thoughts and game plan. The clean air, whisky and promise of so much more had my mind all messed up.

  United Hell Force

  The devil settled in his chair, leaned back a little and said, “So are we going to dance or what?”

  “No. But I do think that we could help each other out,” I answered. “The union has decided that we want out.”

  “Union?” The devil asked as one eyebrow raised.

  “That’s right.” I said. “We all feel the same about our situation and are willing to do whatever it takes to get what we want.”

  His response to that statement was loud and angry. “Why you ungrateful little bastard! You come into my office making outlandish demands. You all should be thankful that you have…”

  “Have what!?” I interrupted. “A crappy job in hell? Just barely enough water to survive and the opportunity to work our asses off all for your benefit? Thankful for what exactly?”

  The devil asked me if I was really in any position to make demands or for that matter ask for anything.

  “Yes.” was my answer. Emphatically. I told him to look at it like this. We are getting all the work done that is expected of us, plus we have proven our willingness to stop work if need be. Given the whole marble incident, it is clear to see that we are motivated to act as one unit. And I reminded him that he clearly could not simply fire all of us because the new hires and supervisors were incapable of doing a quality job. This reasoning did not sit well with the devil and he began to pace nervously behind his desk.

  “You just don’t understand,” he said with false sincerity. “I can’t simply start letting people leave willy-nilly. It would mess up the whole operation, not to mention my reputation.”

  I remembered that one thing from orientation day. I was told that I would have to stay in hell long enough to pay for my sins or mistakes made during my lifetime. This was very vague so I asked for clarification. “Just exactly how long must I stay here to make restitution for my particular sins?”

  The devil looked at me and said, “It’s complicated. I would have to dig out your file, work out the formula. It’s a whole big thing. You wouldn’t get it.”

  “Try me!” I said,” I’m pretty good with numbers and math.”

  “Ok, Ok!” he said. “There is no formula! I keep people for as long as I like. It’s my circus, my monkeys. I’m the devil. I can do whatever I want!”

  That last statement about “no formula” gave me pause for thought. Every shred of hope for a better future, for getting a second chance and for eventually leaving hell had just been lost. At first, this realization sent me into instant depression, hopelessness and despair. I had to shake this off because I was about to lose this negotiation and all of the progress our union had made. Suddenly it all became crystal clear to me. This hope of someday paying our debt for our sins and getting that second chance was the only leverage the devil had to keep people working. If word was to get out that there was no second chance, everyone would simply give up. I would keep this bit of information or threat to myself for now and try another tact with the devil.

  “Well, how about if we work out a formula?” I asked calmly. I went on to explain how I thought the formula could work. There could be a point system where every hell bound sinner would be ranked by severity and frequency of offenses. Each point could equal one hell year of service owed and when paid in full, the offender would be released to get reincarnated. This system would, of course, need to be applied retroactively to everyone who has already served any time at all in hell. It seemed fair and straightforward to me, but the devil had other thoughts on the subject.

  The devil gave his reasons for not liking the plan. “Man that sounds like a lot of work on my part. Besides that, I can’t really let the experienced talent go. Nothing will get done!”

  This business about the new help not getting anything done really started to bother me so I asked, “Just what is it with the new help that makes you think they won’t work?”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” he asked. “You have not seen them when they first get here. The first thing that nine out of ten of them ask is “Hey, do we get Wi-Fi here?” What the hell is that about?” he asked in a highly annoyed voice. “Then,” he went on to say, “They ask if they get a gym membership! Well, yes I do have a state of the art fitness facility, but come on!”

  ”You have a fitness facility?” I asked.

  “Of course. Would, you like to see it?”

  Personally I had no interest in working out, but I was curious so I said, “Sure. Why not.”

  Again with the door out of nowhere trick, the devil opened the door and offered for me to come in. How does he do that? I wondered. Also, how does he not get lost in his own domain? The devil was about five steps in front of me and the door almost closed before I grabbed the door knob and stepped into the new room. This room was expansive and full of every kind of workout equipment that you could imagine. The equipment ranged from the most modern machinery to old school bar bells.

  Once my astonishment had settled down a bit, I looked around only to find the shirtless devil pumping iron. Now my jaw really dropped. I mean this dude was ripped, jacked and shredded! Mother of mercy and all things good and natural, I thought to myself. I am not usually that impressed with someone’s physical fitness but this was just about ridiculous. “So what do you think?” the devil asked.

  Judging by what came out of my mouth next, I was obviously caught off guard with his question. “Nice, um, I mean well, sure. Ok I guess.” What the hell was that all about? I’m an idiot.

  “About the room. What do you think about the room? I could offer every worker several cycles off work so they could come in here and work off some stress.” I composed myself and asked, “Do you mean instead of leaving here at some point in the future?”

  “Yes,” he said. I think he was trying desperately to avoid letting any of us go at any time. I had to take this information, well, offer back to the union to see what they thought about it. I told the devil that I would get back to him and asked him to kindly show me the door.

  Rejected

  A meeting was set for our downtime after the next work cycle. I told everyone about the exercise room. Just about half the people were slightly interested in it, but the other half were insulted by the idea. They told me things like we already work most of the time and are not interested in working any harder. Some said that a few cycles off work would not make up for an eternity. One female worker asked if there would be private areas or is the devil just a creeper.

  I decided not to mention the whisky or the offer the devil had made to me. I was afraid that if the workers thought they could get some time off, some drinks now and then or possibly some sleep, they may want to work that into a deal and abandon our original plan. We decided to put it to a vote. Did we want to take a little bit of freedom now and hope that we could negotiate a better deal later? Or did we want to hold firm and demand an exit strategy? The vote was not even close. We all wanted a way to improve our situations permanently. The offer was rejected, soundly.

  Naturally, the task of informing the devil of our decision was left up to me. Was he going to be pissed? Would he open another door and try to dazzle and impress me with some alternative offer? Surely it wouldn’t be another door to a torture room! I thought of all kinds of negative scenarios. I guess it is just human nature to think of the worse possible outcome for anything that is yet unknown. That’s kind of strange. Why don’t we automatically think the best outcome for an unknown situation? Would the outcomes turn out better if we started with a positive thought rather than a negative one? Oh well. I was just stalling the inevitable.

  “Rejected!? What the hell do you mean, rejected?”

  Damn. I knew it would go this way! Then he snickered a little and then busted out laughing. “You should have seen your face!” He said. Wow! Who knew that the devil had a sense of humor, what with his reputation and all you know. He then went on to say that I looked like I was going to cry or pee myself. Ok, that was enough. I repeated that they had rejected the fitness proposal. “Well, I can’t say that I blame them,” he said. “You would have to be a fool to give up so much for so little in return, but it was worth a try.”

  The devil then got a very serious look on his face. He looked about the same as he did the first time I had ever seen him. “Consider this,” he said. “Right now I have a good thing going and I want to keep it that way. Status quo and all that.” He then went on to describe the dynamics of business as he saw it. He said that just about always you will have the top ten percent of workers just killing it working at a high level of productivity. These people need little if any supervision and in fact often take on the responsibility of supervisors just to make sure that the work gets done. This is then balanced out with the bottom producing ten percent of workers. These are the ones who do as little as possible but still manage to keep their jobs. They do still manage to get some work accomplished, so they are kept on. The good workers usually get upset with the fact that management seems to do nothing about the bad workers. The truth is that it is simply not worth the time to deal with the bad ten percent. Now that leaves the middle eighty percent of workers. This is the bread and butter of any company or business. The middle show up all the time, do their jobs quietly and efficiently and then leave. They are very low maintenance but very productive. “The whole thing just works.” The devil said with a satisfied grin on his face. “Here is the math,” he said. “Bottom does five percent, middle does eighty percent and top does twenty five percent. That’s one hundred and ten percent every time! The house always wins, as it were.”

  I could not argue with the math and it was a very familiar scenario. Most of the jobs I have ever had were set up that way. Come to think of it, even the entire economic system worked with similar dynamics. Just look back at America in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s. A strong middle class kept the economy going strong, but as soon as the balance is moved too far left, right or the middle is taken out of the equation, the whole thing falls apart.

  “We can work this out.” I offered to the devil. I presented the agreement clean and easy. First we would start the point system in order to determine the exact amount of time to be served in hell and we would leave when time was served. Second, we require “new hires” to go through training on how to do this work. They could choose not to join the UHF, but if so, they would not be protected or covered under the agreement. This would guarantee a steady, reliable workforce for the devil’s operations. Third, and finally, we would take that time off for the fitness room which was offered to us previously. The devil thought the agreement was completely one sided on the part of the workers and he got nothing. “Not so much,” I replied. “We still do all of the work and also most of the administration of the point system and training. All that you need to do now is to agree.”

  The devil replied, “Now it’s my turn to take some time and think things through. By the way, are you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer to be my right hand man?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “Let us know your answer.”

  Deliberate and Wait

  Four work cycles had come and gone with no word from the devil about the latest proposal. People were understandably becoming annoyed at the silent treatment. The longer it took to get an answer, the more people speculated about a bad outcome. Some even threatened to just quit working to see if that would bring about the much anticipated decision.

  Soon, I began to feel the brunt of everyone’s frustration. I was asked how I felt about the devil’s mood and if I thought that we had asked for too much. One person asked me, “Since you saw him last, can you tell if he seemed amiable to our request? And by the way, is that whisky on your breath?”

  “What the… Wait just a minute” I said. “First of all, amiable? Seriously? And secondly, where in the hell do you think I would find whisky around here?” That was one secret that I would take to my grave. Well, beyond my grave, or something.

 

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