Darnell Johnson sent off the last of his emails for the day and promptly shut his computer. As he released a huge sigh, he contemplated how he ended up becoming another cog in the capitalist machine. Growing up with a single mother and three siblings and moving from bad neighborhood to worse neighborhood almost yearly had quickly colored the way he viewed the world. Darnell wanted to tear it all down and create something new and beautiful in its place so that no one else would have to go through what he did.
For a time, Darnell was a die-hard activist. His athletic skill opened up the ivy league option for him, and he spent his college years engaged politically despite his position on the football team. After graduating, he spent some time campaigning for candidates he believed in and even attempted to run in his hometown. It was then that reality truly hit him. To be anyone, you needed money or power, and money would easily trump power if the amount were similar. Despite his grassroots, clean campaign, the incumbent outraised him by twenty times, and he had no choice but to concede early on.
Eventually, Darnell abandoned his activism, contacted some old college connections, and quickly landed a job in pharmaceutical sales. His charisma propelled his rise through the company, and in a mere five years, he went from making ninety percent of his salary from commissions to being named the Vice President of Sales. The youngest ever, as well as the first ever black person, male or female.
Shaking out of his reminiscing, Darnell finished gathering his things and started to head out for the day. Exiting his office led to the cubicle jungle that made up the main floor. The floor was abuzz with the sounds of sales and marketing representatives proposing and closing deals left and right. For him now, 4:00 was the end of the day, but it wasn’t too long ago that he would have to grind away the midnight oil to ensure he could pay his rent. With an empathetic smile, he set a brisk pace to the elevators to avoid any boring conversations.
While most people in the company were great conversationalists, it was Tuesday. Any news from the weekend was talked about on Monday, and the week hadn’t gone long enough since then for anything interesting to have happened. Unfortunately, the world ignored his wishes as a young twenty-something woman approached him as he passed the break room, mere yards away from the elevator.
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“Darnell! Wait! I know you’re heading out but Chuck wants me to finish this spreadsheet by today and, while I did, I wanted an extra set of eyes to make sure it was just the way he wanted it!” Seeing him thinking of a way respectfully declining, she continued, “You know how Chuck is! It’s always, ‘This line’s logic isn’t sound enough’ or ‘You should make the pivot table like this instead of like that.’ Other than you, it’s impossible to do it right when dealing with Chuck!”
Darnell audibly groaned. Chuck was the Vice President of Marketing and was notorious for having a bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Before Darnell was promoted to VP of Sales, he was known as “The Chuck Whisperer.” Whenever Chuck needed something done, Darnell would be roped into completing it. Darnell never understood why it was so difficult for people to do what Chuck asked, but maybe that was just years of coaching conditioning kicking in.
“You’re right, you’re right. Since it’s Chuck you need help with, and only because it is Chuck, I’ll look it over. Is it up on your computer now?”
“Yes! Thank you so much, Darnell! You are an absolute lifesaver!”
“Yeah yeah. You owe me dinner though, especially since I’m probably going to get caught in traffic now.”
“Only dinner huh? Lower price than usual, but if that’s what you want sure.” With a wink, Sarah turned towards her desk and walked off.
As the two headed to Sarah’s desk, Sarah quickly got back into business mode and rehashed the task she was given and just how annoying it was to deal with Chuck. Darnell simply nodded in agreement, unwilling to engage in a work conversation he’d had with almost everyone in the office at some point.
“Alright, here it is,” Sarah happily stated as she gestured toward her desktop.
Darnell placed an arm down on the desk then, with his other arm, reached down to grab the mouse. As he did this, something inconceivable happened. His hand which had been bracing him on the desk slipped off. Since his entire upper body weight was on that arm, he fell flat on his face. But that wasn't all. When his face hit the keyboard, his body, as unbalanced as it was, rolled off the desk. While he was a fit young man in college, that was almost two full decades ago, and while he wasn’t obese, he did sport a little bit more than a beer belly. Darnell’s body did a total 180 as it continued falling, and the back of his head hit the edge of the table’s leg.
Due to the fragility of the human body, Darnell went braindead on impact. Right before everything went dark, one final thought passed through Darnell’s mind.
‘If Sarah would have turned to get help rather than try to catch me, I would have gotten one last look at her-’