Without a word, they shouldered their way through the door and past Mel, who was taken aback by the sudden, bold intrusion into his home. “Uh… excuse me, but what the hell are you doing just barging into my house like this?”
They stopped and Mel saw that Mary and Jim were dressed in business attire—a dark suit and white shirt for Jim, navy blue suit for Mary. Jim carried a large canvas bag while Mary carried a briefcase. “We need to speak to you in your study,” Mary said. Without another word, she turned and headed down the hallway to the study. Jim followed her.
The two burly guys stepped up to Mel. “Please, Mr. Howard,” one of them said. He looked like he’d be a Navy grunt or a linebacker.
“Who the hell are you?” Mel asked.
Both men were wearing dark sunglasses; their features were stony.
“Mr. Howard?” Mary Barnhill called from his study.
Mel strode down the hall to his office, his sense of privacy violated now. He didn’t give a good goddamn that he knew Mary and Jim, that they worked for his employer—he wanted them the hell out of his house!
When he reached his office he saw Mary and Jim were waiting for him. Mary had opened her briefcase and taken out a sheaf of papers. “You signed a loyalty oath with us, Mr. Howard. You have violated this loyalty oath by operating a part-time business on the side that is in direct violation of Wiedenhammer’s stated goals.”
Mel started; he had no idea what the hell they were talking about. “What?”
“A loyalty oath to Wiedenhammer,” Mary explained. Mel saw that the papers she was holding up appeared to be Human Resource documents. “All employees signed them about six months ago, yourself included. Remember?”
Mel searched through his memory banks. He supposed at some point he signed some kind of paper—employers always required you to sign stuff; Policies and Procedures documents, Health Care information, Insurance papers, Non-Disclosure Agreements. It was all part and parcel for getting a job. But a loyalty oath? Mel shook his head. “Let me see that,” he said, reaching for the paper.
Mary handed it to him and Mel scanned it quickly. He remembered this now, but vaguely. His supervisor had placed it in his mailbox with a note: Something else we have to sign if we want to keep our jobs. Mel had scanned it quickly at the time, and he read it more carefully now. The heading of the document was Non-Competitive and Conflict of Interest Agreement, which had not raised any red flags for Mel. Non-Competitive and Conflict of Interest Agreements were standard operating procedure for most companies. They stated that as long as you were employed with whatever company you held a job with, you were prohibited from disclosing trade secrets or other secret information to competitors. You were also prohibited from engaging in business practices for your own financial gain within the same industry, which would put you in direct competition with your employer and which could, potentially, create a conflict of interest between employee and employer. It was a way for the company to keep their business practices and development secrets closed, which was understandable. Mel had quickly signed it and put it back in his boss’s In basket. He fostered no desires to work in the Plastics industry, which was Wiedenhammer’s market; they made plastic bottles for the pharmaceutical industry. He could not care less about plastic, screw-top lids, child safety proof lids, and everything that went with it. He had no interest in the product or the industry. He was a salesman for Wiedenhammer because he needed a job to pay his bills, mortgage, and to obtain medical insurance and retirement benefits. Aside from that, he had no interest in the industry his employer was involved in. He was working on Mel’s Books as a side business with the hopes of supplementing his retirement income when that time came. He loved books; loved the smell and feel of them, and as a salesperson he was good at selling them. It made sense to direct his interests and talents together.
Now he scanned the document again, trying to process the legalese. “What’s a loyalty oath? This is a standard non-competitive—”
“Paragraph eight, section two,” Jim said, quietly.
Mel flipped a page and found it. The sub-heading was entitled LOYALTY OATH.
Why didn’t I see this before?
He had gone through this document before; such a boldly stated sub-heading would have jumped out at him then as it did now, but he was certain—positive—it hadn’t been there before. He saw the scrawl of his signature at the bottom of the page indicating he had, indeed, signed the document. He read the paragraph in question.
Section II: LOYALTY OATH
Under no circumstances shall an employee of Wiedenhammer Products, Inc engage in any extra-curricular business activity that falls outside the scope of Wiedenhammer’s goals and objectives. As referenced in Section I, Paragraph 2, a conflict of interest occurs when an individual’s private interest interferes—or even appears to interfere—with the interests of Wiedenhammer. A conflict situation can arise when an employee or officer takes actions or has interests that may make it difficult to perform his or her work for Wiedenhammer. Therefore, by signing the overall Conflict of Interest Agreement, the undersigned hereby agrees to this loyalty oath to the company, that they shall be prohibited from engaging in any extra-curricular business and private activity that falls outside the scope of Wiedenhammer’s goals and objectives.
What kind of bullshit is this? The way this is worded could mean…
Mel looked up at Jim and Mary. “What the hell is this?”
“You are a salesman for Wiedenhammer Products, Inc,” Mary said. “It is what you do. By engaging in your part-time bookselling business on eBay and the rest of the Internet, you are violating our Conflict-of-Interest policy.”
Mel felt his anger flare. How dare these… these morons barge into his house, on the fucking weekend and demand that he cease his business! What he did on his own time was nobody’s business—especially Wiedenhammer’s. “It’s Saturday,” he heard himself say. “And I’m in my own house. You’re trespassing. Get the hell out of here or I call the police.”
Strong arms grabbed Mel by each shoulder and he struggled as the two large men held him. “Get your fucking hands off me!” he yelled.
Jim opened his canvas bag and pulled out a gas can. He unscrewed the cap and began dousing the bookshelves and office furniture.
“Help!” Mel yelled. He struggled against his captors. Jim continued dousing the room with gasoline.
Mary stepped toward the hallway. “You leave us with no choice,” Mary said. “Quitting your position is not enough; terminating your position is out of the question. You are a part of the Wiedenhammer team now. We’re doing this for your own good.”
“I’m going to sue your company so bad, you’ll be homeless!” Mel shouted.
“You’re part of Wiedenhammer, Mr. Howard,” Jim said. He placed the empty gas can on the floor and extracted a book of matches from his coat pocket. “You can’t sue us.”
“Bullshit!” Mel yelled. He strained against his captors and received a sharp blow to his kidneys for his efforts. He doubled over in pain.
“You have violated the company loyalty oath,” Jim said, opening the book of matches. Mary exited the room and went down the hall to the living room. “For that, we must destroy your little side business, which is in direct opposition to Wiedenhammer’s goals and objectives.”
“Fuck your goals and objectives!” Mel shouted. “You’re destroying my property!”
Jim lit a match. He held it before his face, looked at Mel. “Get him out of here,” he said to the two goons. The men holding Mel moved him out of the room and Mel yelled and screamed, twisting in their grasp. Mel watched, horrified, as Jim tossed the lit match on his gasoline-soaked desk and it burst into flames.
“You will pay for this!” Mel yelled. He was yelling so loud it was hurting his throat, but he didn’t care. He continued to fight the two big men who dragged him down the hall into the living room.
Mary was standing near the front door, talking on a cell phone. She finished speaking, hung up, and looked at Mel. “A memo of today’s incident will be forwarded to Herb Enders, your supervisor—”
“I don’t care!” Mel shouted. “I quit! Do you hear me, I quit, and I not only quit, I’m going to sue your ass so bad you won’t be able to sell it in downtown Denver on a fucking street corner!”
Mary frowned as Jim entered the living room. The sharp smell of smoke filtered through to the living room and Mel felt his chest heave. The two goons maintained their solid grips on his arms. His right side burned from where he’d been hit. “Regardless, the appropriate disciplinary action will be followed up Monday morning—”
With a sudden burst of inspirational energy and fury, Mel lashed out with his right foot. It connected solidly with Mary’s stomach. She doubled over violently and gagged; Mel felt a momentary rush of glee at the sight of the Human Resources Manager doubled over in pain, and then he felt a crashing blow to the back of his skull that brought him to his knees. Another blow blasted into his back, between his shoulder blades, and he fell to the ground on his stomach, and then his body became a solid mass of pain as blows and kicks were rained down upon him.
“Enough!” The voice was sharp, commanding, and the blows ceased immediately. “Get him out of here!” Strong hands gripped Mel’s arms and pulled him toward the front door. Mel couldn’t see straight; he was nauseous, dizzy, a wave of terror and anger pouring through him simultaneously. He couldn’t tell what part of his body hurt most and he didn’t care. All he was aware of was being dragged out of his house, seeing the flames devour his office and destroy his property, his records, his business, his fucking house, and then he was dumped on his front lawn and the shock came, and like the waves of a giant tsunami it crashed into him harder and harder until he got hold of his senses five hours later at the hospital.