The Curmudgeon Chronicle -#198

THE CURMUDGEON CHRONICLE ©

AN IRREVERENT VIEW


Time Line: December 10, 2006
Date Line: Flemington New Jersey

The Chronicle has written Christmas articles every year. We exposed who Santa Claus was; why we celebrate in December instead of April, the putative birth time of Jesus; the genesis of Rudolph, and other events related to Christmas including Christmas movies, TV programs, and we even tipped a cat-hat to Dr, Seuss one year.

We thought we had said it all and you would not have a Christmas Chronicle this year, when we happened to find a time capsule with instructions to open circa 2006, and here it is:

Bob Scratchit, senior design engineer for Micropuff was at the office late on the day before Christmas. He knew a lot of outsourcing was planned and he was trying to keep his job. He hung around in the hope of seeing Mr. Portals, owner of 20 zillion shares of Micropuff, to talk about his son “Killer Tim Scratchit” star quarterback of the local high school football team, an enterprise much loved by Mr. Portals.

When Portals passed through the office on his way out, he saw Scratchit and asked, “What the Hell are you doing here? It will be Christmas Eve soon. Are you a Union spy who doesn’t care about Christmas?”

Scratchit said, “Sorry to startle you sir. Its only one day in the year and I want to complete next week’s schedule. I do all I can to be sure that Killer Tim has every advantage I can provide so he can lead the football team to victory. I mean you can get some of those Indian guys on a computer, but they can’t run or pass like Tim, or blindside and crack the opposing quarterback’s ribs without getting caught. There are some aspects of American talent that can’t be replicated anywhere else and we have to do everything we can to preserve those skills!”

Portals rubbed his chin and replied,” Good point Scratchit. I am going to remember that when we review the employment plans for the coming quarter. We need to pay more attention to the kids in India and Korea than we have done in the past. What do you think about a diet of raw meat and cod-liver oil for starters?

“By the way seeing as you are Killer’s father, you might consider a move to Altoona PA when the next round of employment rationalization takes place. My pal is opening a new Wail-Mart there and should have a job in the stock room for you. Merry Christmas Bob and my best wishes to Killer and the rest of your family.”

Portals left for his country club where he was met by a group of five peers to compare bonuses and option grants. Two of the group were forced to leave, having gotten less than $500,000,000 in compensation for the year. The remaining four (including Portals) proceeded to get loaded and the following conversation took place, as best as Portals could recall.

“Peer 1: I remember the past, A time when we were all sentimental. We gave all employees a cut of the profits, paid for their health care and provided them with a feeling of security and purpose. We even supported entire towns!!

“Peer 2: I can see the present more clearly than the past. It’s a dog eat dog world out there and the biggest dogs get to have the best dinners. We can’t let anything interfere with that since we are now the biggest dogs around. As for that tripe about security and purpose, I quote the Teamsters Union when I say, “Its not my job Man!

“Peer 3: I can see the future clearly and I know that if we go on like this we are going to have a world of trouble. We won’t be able to make anything, or protect ourselves and our money will be worthless. We might even have to go to work ourselves!!.”

On that note the gathering broke up and Portals went home to bed. When he awoke on Christmas morning he flung back the bedclothes and rushed to the phone. He dialed Scratchit’s number and said, “I have been thinking about our conversation of yesterday and I have decided something.”

“What is that Boss?”, asked Bob

Without taking a breath Portals said,

“I am firing you as of this moment and calling my buddy at Wail-Mart to blacklist you. You gave me the damnedest nightmare you little bugger. I dreamed I would have to go to work for a living in the future. That is an outrage and I don’t forget things like that.

“Merry Christmas Pal.”


Charles Dickens**

**
Mr. Dickens appended a short note to the text:

Dear Future Reader:

I know this could not possibly happen in your country and in your time, but perhaps you will consider it risible, living as you do, in a Utopia beyond the contemplation of we mortals of the 19th Century.

CD

Merry Christmas

H. S.
(and the Chronicle staff)