Replaced

Workplace anxiety

This is a work-in-progress piece of fiction. It might be removed and replaced as I rewrite.

The anxiety started when the heads of department held a meeting with sales representatives from Iterative Intelligent Systems. Mike and his teammates stole furtive glances through the glass walls of the conference room as the reps gave their presentation, the heads of department engrossed by the projected slides boasting the cost-savings and productivity increases the artificial intelligence could offer the firm. He and his teammates watched in silence, stress-drinking too many cups of coffee, but he could tell from their eyes they were all thinking the same thing. The reps from IIS had just put them on the endangered species list. They were about to be replaced.

Mike returned to his desk space and tried to put his nose to the grindstone. After years of putting in the bare minimum, the scores of man-hours spent putting off work until the last minute, he had the anxious instinct to turn himself into the model employee in his final days, like the vigorous, bloody flossing he did right before a dental appointment in an attempt to fool the hygienist into believing he’d done it daily. He dove into his spreadsheets like a man condemned, each client metric moved to a new column another opportunity to save him from the noose.

The stress was overwhelming. It was too much for Mike to take.

He hyperventilated in a bathroom stall, panic rising. He knew, in his heart, that he was replaceable. The time he spent on social media, on mindless browser games, on YouTube playlists wasn’t taking away from his productivity. In reality, there just wasn’t enough work that actually needed to be done. He finished everything that was on his plate on deadline, and with the quality the company expected. The grim reality dawned that his job was rote and mechanical, that it could be done just as well and more efficiently by artificial intelligence. It didn’t matter if he emerged from the stall and worked as hard as his teammates, the cold logic of corporate profits was irrefutable. He was unnecessary. It was hopeless.

He splashed water on his clammy face and dried himself with the minuscule scrap of paper towel the automatic dispenser provided. In the mirror, he saw that he looked like he felt. Like shit.

He emerged from the restroom and came face to face with the head of department.  “Hey, Mike, you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Mike lied. He fought the urge to ask about the IIS presentation. He was sure the head of department wouldn’t tell him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. “Just took a quick five. Getting right back into it.”

“You sure? You look a little pale.”

The panic churned in his stomach. He gulped. “I’m all good. Probably just a little too much coffee.” He immediately regretted mentioning an office perk that a computer system wouldn’t need.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Get yourself some rest.”

Mike felt like he was going to puke. “No, that’s really not necessary. But thanks. But it’s okay. I’m all good.”

The head of department placed his hand on Mike’s shoulder firmly. “I insist. No use being here if you’re not one hundred percent. Take the day.”

Mike was in a revolving state of panic attacks back at his apartment. He was sent home at the worst possible time, an objective demonstration of his dispensability. Everything he tried to take pleasure in was a reminder that it was something he soon wouldn’t be able to afford. The streaming services with the shows to distract him felt like scrolls of subscription fees. The comfort food in his fridge reminded him that it would soon be barren. The walls around him felt transitory, like they would soon fall. He imagined all his things, his accumulated furniture and collectible crap arranged neatly in a storage unit that would eventually be auctioned to the highest bidder.

When he returned to his workspace the next day, he received the email he’d been dreading. The head of department was summoning his team to an all-hands meeting. At the prescribed time, the team shuffled sullenly together to the glass enclosure of the conference room with an unspoken shared awareness that they were going together to the gallows.

The head of department took his seat at the head of the table, his expression solemn. “So, this isn’t going to be easy. I want to say that I have been honored to work with you all. Your professionalism has been unmatched. We have really been able to accomplish a lot of great things as a team, and I want to take a moment to recognize that.” He took a moment to scan the sea of pallid faces. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, management took a meeting with the folks from Iterative Intelligent Systems yesterday and as a result of that meeting the higher-ups have made the decision to take the workforce in a new direction.”

The head of department gulped, steeling himself. “I’m being replaced.”

Mike’s jaw went agape. Teammates gasped. “Heads of department are going to be phased out and replaced by artificial intelligence team leaders, effective immediately. I’m disappointed, to be honest, but I can’t argue with the logic.” A shared, quiet glee percolated the room. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know and work with you all.”

The team’s workload increased under their algorithmic overseer, delegating tasks that worked them to the mathematically determined edges of their ability. As his workload multiplied, Mike’s wage stayed flat. He knew that he wouldn’t have any luck trying to find a job at a different company, all the similar firms had also hired comparable AI managers. Company efficiency spiked, and Mike was spent at the end of his days. He was too tired to enjoy his streaming services or his apartment, but at least he could barely afford them.