Seven

Another bright Brooklyn morning, the blue sky masked by the slate grey walls of Acme Telesales. Seated at desk 52, Blaine slipped on his headset and got down to coaxing random New Yorkers into bulk-buying Drain-O-Sure.

‘Good morning, sir. I’m calling about your drains.’

Click.

‘Hello, ma’am... do you have a smell in the kitchen that won’t go away?’

Click.

‘This is your lucky day, Miss – a Drain-O-Sure day!’

Click.

Just as Blaine was about to make the next call, the supervisor strode up, clipboard in hand.

‘I want to see you in my office right away, Williams!’

‘I’ve got five more calls to make before my break. That OK?’

‘No, not OK!’

‘Huh?’

‘You’ve been suspended!’

‘Suspended? What for?’

‘You know what for... for that email to the shareholders... for damn well claiming that Drain-O-Sure’s a con!’

Tugging off his headset, Blaine wiped a hand down hard over his face.

‘But Mr. Seldon, we’re preying on the elderly and the vulnerable. We’re touting a product that’s nothing but watered-down bleach... It’s shameful and it’s probably illegal as well.’

The superintendent whispered into a miniature microphone on his lapel.

‘What’s going on?’

‘You’re being terminated. Right now. That’s what’s going on.’

‘What?!’

‘Clear out your stuff, Williams. Security’s on their way up. I want you out of the building in ten minutes!’