MARKeting (1)

1.

Clarence worked in one of the most mundane and frustrating fields ever to grace the round surface of the Earth: consultation marketing. While many would have considered telemarketing to be worse, they would have been incorrect because, thanks to the spam filtration features of the late 2020s, telemarketing rapidly devolved into a bunch of chatbots calling one another. While no one was exactly sure what they talked about, it was widely speculated that some insurance companies had managed to sell policies to the other ones so that the bots could make themselves look good on quarterly performance reviews.

            Consultation marketing, on the other hand, was still staffed by red-blooded humans doing their best to sell things to other red-blooded humans. These humans were underpaid and highly motivated by economic turmoil, a series of commission checkpoints, as well as the chance to ring a very large gong hanging at the end of the office. It was an environment of sharks dressed as minnows, and a place where ‘pump up those numbers’ was as common to hear as a simple ‘hello’.

            Clarence walked through the familiar halls of Stratos Consulting Group. He did not feel pride in his job, but he did feel the security of a steady paycheck. In the main room, or The Pit as some people called it, cubicles were arranged in neat rows with low walls made of what appeared to be rejected carpeting material. At the far end of the office, slightly raised to provide a better view, was the overseer’s office, closed off but denoted by a floor-to-ceiling pane of glass. No one could hear what was being said inside, but based on the amount of time The Overseer spent shouting on the phone, it seemed terribly important.

            The route to his desk was familiar, like a lab rat pacing the same maze to find the same stale piece of cheese. He passed by coworkers he was only vaguely familiar with. There was Jen from marketing. Well, they were all from marketing, but Jen was marketing for marketing, which was very important. At least, that’s what she told him at the last company social. Something about how the brand of a marketing agency was important to make other brands more receptive to being marketed to themselves.

            Clarence thought it sounded a lot like a corporate snake gnawing on its tail for sustenance, but as long as the snake stayed alive, he didn’t mind.

            Next, he passed the Georges, two men who couldn’t look more different. He highly suspected HR placed them next to one another for a quick laugh. George H. was tall, handsome, clean cut, and very good on the phones. George I. was short, pudgy, and fantastic at debugging automated phone lines. He was also the steward for the company’s brand-new AI Assistant, Mark, short for marketing. Mark was quickly becoming everyone’s favorite coworker. There wasn’t a single meeting he wasn’t invited to, and he sat in every conversation, hallway or otherwise, thanks to a series of microphones and speakers placed at five-foot intervals around the office.

            Finally, Clarence passed John, the coworker he disliked the least. Raising a family wasn’t cheap and was getting more expensive by the day. When John worked, he looked like a man barely hanging on to the edge of a life raft, clambering to stay afloat, but never quite giving up. While some people played the Food Investment Index, a corporate commoditization of basic necessities created in 2027, John lived and died by its hand. Feeding two mouths required wealth that only the top sales prospects could achieve. John did so through grit, perseverance, and a small ration of cocaine he kept in his desk drawer.

            As Clarence passed, he mouthed ‘good morning’, seeing that John already had his earpiece in. Likely, he had been there for hours despite the official day shift starting promptly at nine o’clock. By the time Clarence sat at his desk, it was three minutes till, and by the time his computer ran through its lengthy boot sequence, he was nearly late. Thankfully, he entered his password before the clock shifted and avoided another demerit. He looked at the side panel of his cubicle, where several red frowny faces hung on a lanyard, reminding him of past tardiness. Most days, they were simply a minor annoyance in his peripheral vision, but if it ever came time for a performance review, they would surely play a starring role.  

            The computer hummed to life, and Mark was the first program to open. Mark started automatically and couldn’t be shut down. It appeared as a small chat window with a generic, masculine face staring back at him from a tiny square in the top right corner. “Good morning, Clarence. How may I help you today?”

            The window couldn’t be minimized by design, but Clarence resized it every morning to the smallest possible dimensions the program allowed. This squished the generic face down to a bizarre puddle-like visage that always made Mark look unhappy, but Mark was an AI, and Clarence didn’t care about the feelings of a program that valued alliteration over genuine thought.

            It had been almost a year since Mark’s full implementation in the workforce. Everyone was required to have the program and mandated to use it as a check on any human-crafted responses. HR handed down several memos as reminders that human responses were often flawed, and Mark helped smooth over such indecencies. As such, Mark had access to every call, every e-mail, and every single click on every machine in the office. Unprompted, it would offer advice. The true trick was learning to ignore it, although Clarence suspected he was the only one who even tried. Everyone else was happy with the convenience.

            Clarence pulled up his call sheet, a list of marketing businesses that had, in some distant past, expressed even the vaguest interest in having marketing help themselves. From experience, Clarence knew this could be as simple as someone saying: ‘Marketing for marketing businesses?’ at an industry dinner. No contact information would even need to be exchanged. The in-person associates for Stratos were ruthless in their efficiency. All it took was a single second of capitulation, and the e-mails would flood their inbox the following day.

            Each mail was technically different, but with Mark, everything eventually bent in an arc toward corporate normality. The text would read something like: “When we met last night, I just knew I had to circle back with you. Even the strongest businesses need other businesses to help. Let’s chat about how Stratos can add value to your company at your nearest convenience.”

            If that didn’t work, the associate would find their personal address and show up with a series of company-paid gift baskets. They started with small, cheap things: chocolate bars from the local bodega, water that came in fancy bottles but tasted the same as tap, fruits so bizarre that no one truly knew how to eat them, and more. These gifts escalated to a point predetermined by Mark based on the company’s value as a business. If the gift baskets didn’t work, the employee would set a follow-up date, but they never gave up.

            Clarence pulled up the auto-dialer for the first name on the list and was about to connect when a priority e-mail came through, freezing all other actions on his computer. Priority mail, anything from supervisors or above, illuminated as a big, red envelope on the screen. Clarence felt his heart speed up. The office had just finished its midyear review cycle, and he wasn’t due for another performance check until the beginning of the following quarter. Probably another demerit for ‘poor working relationship with Mark’.

            Clarence took a deep breath and opened the email. There was no point in waiting, eventually, Mark would read the email aloud, a far worse outcome.

Subject: Follow-Up: Office Meeting Request

Clarence, this is your skip leadership officer, Margaret.

            Clarence had never met Margaret and could only conjure a vague image of her face. He imagined it was sour but filled with enough Botox to appear youthful and wealthy.  

It has come to our attention that you have been engaged in several calls without adhering to the advice of your assistant, Mark. As this is not your first notice, we thought it best to discuss these matters in person. Please report to Office 10-B for an informal review. Pending this review’s completion, your lead sheets will be unfrozen, and you may resume working.

Looking forward to our discussion.

Best, Margaret

Sent from my Phone

            Clarence read the message over a few times.

            “Do you understand the content of this message?” asked Mark in the same neutral tone it always used.

            “Do you understand the content of this message?” mocked Clarence before he could stop himself.

            “I’ll provide you a summary. You are to report to Office 10-B due to repeated misconduct.”

            “Thank you, Mark.” Clarence couldn’t be sure, but he thought he sensed a tone of smug satisfaction in the AI’s reading. It wasn’t there, of course, but it felt that way all the same.

            “Do you require directions to Office 10-B?” asked Mark.

            Clarence took small joy in flipping the power switch on the back of the monitor and taking off his headset. Mark could of course follow him the whole way through the office, but at least Clarence wouldn’t have to listen to him talk. He stood from his desk, ignoring the perplexed stares from his coworkers and made his way through the cubicle grid. Office 10-B was one of several meeting rooms lining the building’s far wall next to the leadership pods. If nothing else, he would have a nice view for their chat.