Dearest gentle reader, it has come to this author’s attention that all is not glittering in the oil patch, particularly within the cold, steely walls of Chevron.
While the company boasts of record-setting efficiency, measured by colorful scorecards that are all the rage this season, the loyal workers—those remaining, at least—are being squeezed until they are positively breathless, expected to drive performance while looking over their shoulders.
'Tis whispered that the infamous leader, the Cryptkeeper himself, MW, cares not a wh-t for the human cost of his grand ambitions, treating seasoned staff as mere overhead to be deleted, rather than the lifeblood of the enterprise, as he searches for his next low-cost geography “Diamond” of the season and incessantly prods his subjects to most expeditiously dispatch labor abroad.
With thousands of souls reportedly cast out in a relentless drive to slash costs, one wonders if the "Human Energy" touted in this company’s advertisements refers to the energy it takes to flee the sinking ship, or perhaps, the sheer audacity of laying off much more than the reported 20% of the workforce, while demanding more with less.
The atmosphere, by all accounts, is less "energy giant" and more "relentless harvester," leaving one to wonder who, if anyone, will be left to turn out the lights in Houston.
Fear not, gentle reader, for there is much more merriment to share. The ton demands it, and we shall oblige. I leave you with this juicy riddle: who is the Diamond that shines so bright—albeit unnaturally—that he lights up the dark halls of the Houston dungeon and is—dare we say this—in an entanglement? One hint: Chicklets