Termination Man: a novel by Edward Trimnell Read Free Book Online Page A

one here wants to harm you in any way. TP Automotive is a family-friendly company, after all. The last thing we want is some sort of scandal.”
    “Which is why,” Bernie Chapman broke in—the lawyer held up a printed sheet of paper in one hand; in the other he brandished a pen. “You would do everyone in this room a favor––and most of all yourself––if you would sign this voluntary resignation agreement.”
     

Chapter 4
     
    To no one’s real surprise, Kevin Lang immediately caved after that. I’ve observed more than a few employees in his shoes, and I can tell you that almost all of them do exactly the same thing: They sign the voluntary resignation agreement.
    It is easy for disgruntled employees to talk tough and threaten. It’s also easy for them to imagine the sorts of threats that will get a rise from corporate managers. Therefore, most of them talk about filing lawsuits or starting boycotts. The first of these always gives managers and HR department reps pause; the latter is effective if the employer sells directly to consumers.
    The rise of social media has given angry employees and ex-employees yet another means of striking back at the hand that feeds them, and occasionally slaps them: Twenty years ago, if you had beef with your employer, you had almost no chance of taking the fight into the public square unless you convinced a journalist or a big-name attorney like Howard Steinkeller to take up your cause. Now you need only go home, boot up your computer, and air your grievances on YouTube, or on one of the numerous free-access blogging sites that have proliferated on the Internet. The playing field has been leveled—a brave new world of Internet-driven democracy. Or so they say.
    This new attitude of empowerment fuels the courage of the Kevin Langs of the world—until they discover that their employer ( whom they previously believed to be operating within a strictly delineated code of conduct ) has upped the ante and raised the stakes on them. Like I said, I’ve seen it before: An employee comes into a termination meeting, full of confidence in his newly empowered state—and then he finds himself confronted with his own darkest secrets. Let me tell you—Kevin Lang wasn’t the first of them to experience this reversal. And he won’t be the last.
    What amazes me more than anything is the surprise on their faces, as if they believed that a corporation worth $10 billion or $30 billion wouldn’t have the foresight to protect itself in this new era of the lawsuit and the Internet. It’s public knowledge that today most companies’ human resources departments actively investigate the activities of both current and prospective employees on social networking sites like Facebook. So why should it be a shocker when a company that wants to quietly fire someone digs up evidence of a predilection for marijuana or online porn?
    Or—in the case of Kevin Lang—the secret life of a Baptist minister’s son who is struggling with his sexual identity?
     
     
    The rest of the meeting with Kevin Lang was anticlimactic. After he signed the voluntary resignation agreement, two security guards—who had been waiting for him just beyond the door of the meeting room—escorted him out of the building. They were two burly men who looked like ex-marines. Each one bore a discreetly holstered sidearm. I happened to know that neither of these men was a regular at GLFS; Beth had called the security firm to request them especially for today’s big event.
    The security guards you see in company lobbies are contract employees dispatched by security firms. As a rule, these men and women fall a notch or two below the standards set by law enforcement agencies. More than half are well past their prime s , pencil-necked, or challenged by their expanding waistlines. The majority of them would be lucky to nab a shambling eighty-year-old shoplifter. 
    But the corporate security firms also keep “special duty” guards on their