His employer once gave an exhaustive address about garbage. Preaching values through allegory, nothing to do with the value of their labor, only the landfill bound widgets they’d be constructing for mass consumption every hour of each day.
The wealthy man in a dressed down working-man costume asked his employees about breakfast, whether they preferred to be the pig or the chicken in the breakfast parable he’d heard from another corporate dictator. Gerardo snapped out of a daydream. You see, says the plant owner, the chicken provides eggs for breakfast, but the pig sacrifices himself for the meal; bacon, ham, sausage.
Gerardo raised his hand
“Yes, you in the back. Pedro is it?”
He was Pedro to the wealthy man. Sure, whatever. Gerardo stepped up to the mic.
“I'd be the chicken. I’d produce far more food and participate in more breakfasts than the pig.” A few coworkers applauded. He thanked Gerardo for his remarks.
A month later he discovered the plant was closing down, moving to El Salvador by years end. The company counts on El Salvador for their breakfast. Their standard of living is lower claimed a coworker. “It makes sense,” he said. Another claimed he’d do the same if he were the owner.
“So, Why don't you move down there?”
“Brother, I wouldn’t move down there. It’s just a job. Besides, that’s fantasy. Terry and I just bought the house last year.”
“Where you gonna go?” Gerardo asked his coworker, ignoring thoughts of his own fate. “Back to Discount Tire? Weren’t you a manager there?”
Gerardo looked every bit the part of a worn out middle aged man, tummy, grey stubble, and deep crows feet at the corners of his eyes. His stint as a high school teacher wore out. His children were grown. Their mother had long moved on and built a new family. He had a golden retriever with a white face and arthritic joints. Like his neighbors, his house was in need of repair. Their street cracked and potholed.
There had to be a better way to make money, he thought. One without being a martyr, the pig for breakfast. Making meth amphetamine was not a viable option. Selling his belongings wouldn’t fetch much coin but could help lighten the load in case he had to move once his last paycheck cleared.
He complained to his friends and wrote his case in the comment feed of his favorite lefty politics shows on YouTube. No replied or commented. He wrote a few more comments on subsequent shows until he noticed casper0678 began liking his notes, a thumbs up each time. “You’re a true Marxist @ Gerrytheone” Casper wrote in response to a long diatribe Gerardo posted. He considered sending a direct message, but turned his focus to the shoes he bid on earlier that evening. He loved a particular style of sneaker designed to have a '1980’s nostalgic patina. He owned 6 pairs in various colors.