John Calvin’s one year anniversary for working at CONCorp snuck up on him. It seemed like just yesterday was his first day at one of the most prestigious investment banks in the nation, but a lot happened since then. For starters, he dropped out of college while in the middle of getting his Master’s degree in Business. He had a bachelor’s degree in commerce, but treats this as a liability rather than an advantage in the game that most people call life. All John knew was that the key to success was to make money. Lots and lots of money. John ‘s family could barely afford the $60,000 cost of tuition of Harvard School of Business, drowning themselves in loans. And it was at CONCorp that he had hoped to make up some of that money.

John sat at his desk and stared blankly at his computer screen clicking his favorite pen. A graph weaved its way across the screen like a drunk driver down a highway: swervy and unpredictable. His cubicle was a mess. Papers showing the latest stock analysis of AIG, General Motors, and Intel were strewn across the desk. His coffee cup which read “Harvard School of Business” was faded and worn. His face was unshaven and discoloured splotches lingered under tired eyes. He continued to stare aimlessly at the screen as China Construction Bank’s stock price continued to update.

Mr. Harper, head of the department for which John worked for, sauntered over to his desk. John wasn’t paying attention when Mr. Harper hovered over him like a shadow.

“Ah, checking out the latest stock prices are we Mr. Calvin,” Mr. Harper asked loudly into his ear, so everyone could hear. This shook John awake, who was half asleep.

“Uh yeah, I saw that Siemens’ stock drop a few points last night,” he mumbled, still rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes. He flung open his desk and grabbed a portfolio which was titled “Siemens AG” on its tab. Mr. Harper, ripped it from John’s hands as soon as he closed the drawer. He open the folder and peered inside. He was emotionless as he skimmed the page, almost completely disinterested in what the report said. He peered down at John from behind the folder, who was still looking up at him from his office chair.. Mr. Harper and John exchanged glares as a slight grin came across Mr. Harper’s face.
Finally after what seemed an eternity, Mr Harper responded, “ We’re gonna need you to work late again tonight. This time keep an eye on Intel. They’re supposed to be releasing some sort of new device tonight at midnight, so keep those reports coming.”
Great,another night of working in this fish bowl, he thought to himself as he glared at Mr. Harper as he walked away. John got up, taking his mug with him. He dragged his feet to the break room, where he made another cup of coffee. As the smell of the fresh ground coffee beans filled the room, he peered out the window.
The sun’s rays glimmered off the water of North Yacht Cove as ferries steamed their way across the Hudson. Goldman Sachs’ headquarters was a monolith, with the small CONCorp building in its wake. The coffee maker dinged as the last drops filled the mug. John moved swiftly over to the sugar and cream. He took 5 sugar packets and tore them open, dumping their contents into the coffee. Grabbing a spoon, he stirred the liquid, ensuring all the sugar was dissolved. Throwing away the spoon, he turned and peered out the window again, taking a sip of his beverage. John stood there, frozen like a statue for a few moments. He let out a big sigh, once again sipping his coffee from the faded mug.
He walked slowly backed to his cubicle. Slumping back down in his office chair, he began to clean up from last night’s work. Tonight was his third night in a row of working at the office. Last night he was told to look at the stock prices of General Electric, and the night before that, JP Morgan Chase.
As the last of the employees left to go back to their apartments, John was alone. He began to clean up from last night’s work. Organizing the stock analyses and IPO reports, he stood up and peered around the office.
The 27th floor of CONCorp headquarters, which was was filled with ringing phones and intense conversation, was now empty and vacant. A single fluorescent light hung above him while the others lay dark. The only thing keeping the entire floor from being silent was the light hum of the air vent. John walked back to the break room where he made yet another cup of coffee.
He stood and stared out the window. Goldman Sachs’ headquarters was still bright, the floors still alight with people like himself still working to the early morning hours. He watched as the night covered New York City like a blanket. The coffee maker dinged as the last drips fell into the faded mug. John finished the process of making his coffee as he waltzed back to the picturesque view of Jersey City. He sat down in one of the chairs. This was the first time in a week and a half that John was able to have an actual break. He let out a big sigh after taking a large gulp from the mug, leaning back in the chair and stared out the window.
John reflected on his time at CONCorp. When he walked in on the first day, he expected smiling faces, sports cars, and big wads of cash. Instead he was met with low wages, long hours, and four gray walls that surrounded him. It was at the third largest investment firm in the country that he had hoped to make up some of his faded dreams, but instead his dreams were only suppressed further and further into the back of the mind. Work had consumed his life like an ocean, and he was without a life preserver. John worked as hard as he could to make the enormous amount of money he dreamed about. But only working on an hourly wage did not help those ambitions. His Bachelor’s degree didn’t help. It became a symbol of where he was and why he was there. John was a pawn on the chessboard for the CEO, only a small part of a big business. John was a fish in a fish bowl, and no one cared what he did or who he was.
He got up slowly as the realization of what he truly was washed over him like a waterfall. He slowly walked back to his cubicle, his thoughts still brewing in his head like a thunderstorm on the horizon. he bent down his over his desk. He glanced back up at his computer screen. Intel’s stock had dipped with the release of their new processor. He stood up and looked at his cubicle. The steel desk at which he sat was stained with spilt coffee weeks old. The four gray walls which contained him in all waking waking hours we still blank, unchanged from when he first walked in. The waste basket under the desk was filled to the brim, overflowing with used sugar packets and old reports, their words lost and forgotten.
John backed away from his desk. He stood there still as the air vents droned on. He slowly sat back in his office chair, closing the stock exchange monitor program. He took a deep breath and opened Microsoft Word.
After another 2 hours of work, John retrieved a small box from the stock closet. He proceeded to empty his desk. He placed each object in the small box with care and thought. Before long the only thing that was left to store was his mug. Though he didn’t love the years he spent at Harvard School of business, he cherished the mug. This mug was his life saver and his only friend at the company. He stared at his prized mug like a business man stares at money.
John placed the mug gently into the box, his eyes still fixated on the faded red shield and the black letters. He placed the top of the box on top. Reaching for the power button on the computer, he let out one more big sigh. As the computer ended all of its tasks, a feeling of relief washed over him. As the door of the building closed behind him, he peered down at his watch. 2:30 AM. He smiled at the thought and danced to his car.
As Mr. Harper walked into his office, he prepped his desk for the day’s work. His desk was pristine, clear from clutter or messes. As he powered on his computer he noticed a manila envelope placed directly at the center of the desk. Resignation was written on its front.