The Promotion

Karen’s promotion was not without its casualties. The young salesman who had broken records had also inadvertently broken her heart when he failed to show the appropriate amount of interest in her. A sexual harassment accusation and a few out of character outbursts in the company’s main showroom later and he was wandering the streets looking for food in bins while muttering something about Karen being a cunt. It was her show now. She’d get the job done. It was simply unacceptable for people to get away with hurting the feelings of others. That fucking guy was paying the price.
In her eyes everything was broken and needed to be fixed. First on her list of wrongs to right was the mechanics. She marched down to the service part of the car yard like a lunatic chasing the last bits of sanity remaining in an already overrun mind. Around the open bonnet of a car stood the mechanics like doctors around a patient. Hello, I’d like to talk to the head mechanic please, she said and Old Jack looked up from the surgery he was about to perform.
That’s me, he said.
Can I have a word?
Sure.
That calendar, she said and pointed at a topless woman that someone had decided would best represent the month of March.
What about it? said Old Jack.
That woman. I find it offensive. That’s not how real women look.
She’s real.
HOW DARE YOU! she said and the other two mechanics looked up from the car’s engine.
Anything else I can help you with? said Old Jack.
I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER! she said.
Aren’t you the manager? said one of the other mechanics.
Well in that case, you’re all fired! she said and she stomped back to sale yard to solve more problems. Old Jack and the mechanics downed their tools and like doctors abandoning a patient in the middle of an operation, they left the car there to die. Don’t worry, fellas. We’ll be offered jobs again when this place goes tits up and that should happen within the week, said Old Jack.
At the sale yard she charged up and down the rows of cars like a rabid dog looking for something to bite. Bits of foam appeared at the corners of her mouth because her feelings had been hurt too many times to count. Life had a way of weighing her down until she felt as if she couldn’t hold it up anymore. Righting wrongs was tearing her apart but it had to be done. She only wished she’d be around to hear people talk about how her martyrdom made the world a better place. More hurt smashed into her like a cannonball into the side of ship and parts of her were now splintered, never to be put together again. PHILLIP! she said and a young man appeared from inside and without saying a word, stood before her as if waiting for instructions. Why are these cars priced differently? she said.
What do you mean?
Exactly what I said, FAGGOT!
Um, well these cars are new and those ones are old, he said.
Well that makes no sense.
You kind of hurt my feelings when you called me a faggot before, said Phillip.
That was your fault because you made me angry, she said.
Ok.
Anyway, make all these cars the same price, she said.
Excuse me?
MAKE THEM ALL THE SAME PRICE! she said with a stare that would have scared the toughest of dogs out a butcher shop. Her logic was solid. Who said women were illogical? She had just busted open that assumption like a broken nose. Placing more value on newer cars was inherently unfair. She sympathized with the older cars, because as an older woman, she had been overlooked by a plethora of arseholes in favor of younger women. All women were of equal value, regardless of their age and therefore the same FACT applied to cars. She was proud of herself. She knew the sisterhood would be talking about this forever. Phillip ran back to the office to do up the new signs. Don’t waste cards doing up new signs you fucking dunce! she said.
Sure thing! said Phillip.
Just do one sign. Make it say, “Everything and Everyone has EQUAL value”, she said and ran her hand over a rust bucket that had had $1500 on it. You are beautiful too, she said in a whisper that only she and the car could hear.
A month later and not a single car had been sold. Looking for someone to blame she tried to point the finger at the mechanics, but they were long gone. When it was suggested that her radical pricing system was the result of their current state, she promptly fired the hateful voice of reason that was attempting to derail her utopia. Things consistently spiraled out of control. She accused Phillip of sexual harassment but this time it didn’t stick because he was clearly gay. A phone call from the Chief Executive and an order to close the doors was one of the most hateful things she had ever been subjected to. But it’s not fair, she said into the phone.
Not fair is raping the arsehole of a well functioning company. I’d fire you but you’re already out of a job, he said and hung up. A combination of tears and snot ran down her face like sea foam floating to shore. Fuck that guy. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Phillip locked the front doors under the threat of death, but she stabbed him nineteen times anyway. He called her a bitch as he bled out on the floor, but was lucky enough to survive another fifteen minutes to see her shot in the head by a police sniper. It had been Phillip who had called them. Great shot, said the police sergeant to the sniper.
What kind of fucking idiot makes used cars the same price as new cars? said the sniper.
A Karen, said the sergeant and they both shook their heads in disbelief.

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