Customer: You weren’t here yesterday.
Clerk: I was. Were you?
Customer: Let me get at it another way. You weren’t the one I spoke to.
Clerk: Perhaps you were at a different window.
Customer: He told me to come back to this window, and to speak to him.
Clerk: Sometimes at night the maintenance workers change the numbers. You should try another
window.
Customer: This is the same window, but he isn’t here. Could he be gone for lunch or to the
washroom?
Clerk: What difference does it make? You’re holding up the line.
Customer: But it’s hard to apply for a waiver, and we had developed a sort of rapport.
Clerk: Oh, I get it.
Customer: What do you mean?
Clerk: We’re monitored all the time for rapport. It’s not allowed.
Customer: And since he showed some sympathy for me, he was immediately removed?
Clerk: Now as to the immediately, I couldn’t say. After all, for all we know, I’m the one you
spoke to. No. I don’t feel any rapport with you.
Customer: You have to say that.
Clerk: Next.
Customer: I’m not finished. But I’ve waited so long, and he told me that I had made only one
small error in filling out the form, and that if I returned it to him today, with that error
repaired, I could certainly get the form approved.
Clerk: Interesting that you say it was a man you spoke to. That should help in determining who
showed you rapport.
Customer: Don’t you mean who it was I spoke to?
Clerk: Are you familiar with the Bureau’s new 10-step rapport-monitoring program?
Customer: What’s in it for me?
Clerk: Surveys show that those who cooperate move through the line faster.
Customer: I’m in favor of that.
Clerk: You’re not expecting preferential treatment, are you? We monitor rapport so that no
Customer should ever fear that he or she is being treated differently from another
Customer.
Customer: No preferential treatment?
Clerk: Now you’ve got it. Denied.
Customer: Wait. Read my form.
Clerk: I don’t have to. No application for a waiver as to time of death has ever been approved.
Customer: But if it’s never approved, why do you have the form? Why do eight clerks come on
before Elimination Hour every night and sing, “You don’t have to die if you don’t want to, at least not on the day they say?”
Clerk: I like that song. It gives people hope.
Customer: Why won’t you approve my form, then? I’m scheduled the day after tomorrow.
Waiting in line over and over like this; it’s so hard.
Clerk: That’s why we have the forms. It gives you something to do while you’re waiting, terrible
thing waiting, best we get the whole thing over with as soon as possible.
Customer: But that’s just the point. I’m applying to die immediately, I don’t want to wait.
Clerk: You must wait. That’s the law. Next.
Customer: But why?
Clerk: Eliminations are scheduled scientifically. There are always good reasons for the selection
of an individual for a day and hour. Perhaps you have something important to accomplish before the date. Don’t spend any more time here worrying about it, just get out and do what must be done, that’s my advice.
Customer: You don’t understand.
Clerk: Of course not. You are asking me to understand something after I’ve told you that it’s my
sworn obligation not to exhibit any rapport with you. I treat you fairly, even kindly, but only within the limits of the Bureau. Are you trying to get me scheduled?
Customer: But I filled out the form correctly. I got everybody’s signature, I got the misspellings
fixed. I answered the skill-testing question, and it’s so easy that I can’t help feeling you’re just another test, and that if I persist, you’ll help me. If you all act the same, and the man yesterday promised my application would be approved, then you must approve it.
Clerk: Take these.
Customer: Why?
Clerk: I’m trying to help.
Customer: Are they poison?
Clerk: Take them. You want me to trust you, you have to trust me.
Customer: All right, so what did I take?
Clerk: Aspirin. Why do you want to die today anyway? Life’s pretty good.
Customer: This from an employee of a Bureau killing me in two days.
Clerk: Make up your mind. Are you mad about living or mad about dying?
Customer: If we just had evidence; it was so much nicer on the other side.
Clerk: What about the fact that no one comes back? Doesn’t that suggest that it must be pretty
swell?
Customer: Maybe it just means that there isn’t any way to get back. You know what the Bible
says: you can’t get here from there.
Clerk: Leave the forms with me, and you’ll be notified in due time of the Elimination Bureau’s
decision…. What, no answer, no plea, no retort, no rejoinder, no parry, no thrust, no crack, no ploy, no quip, no cajole, no threat, no reply, no regret, no comment, no last try, nothing? Oh, you’re not going to cry, are you? Here, permission granted. Go on through, right away.
Customer: I can go?
Clerk: Yes. Stop blubbering.
Customer: Wait. If I had come here and just started crying, could I have gone through right
away?
Clerk: Well, yes, that or shouting.
Customer: But that’s not fair. At least, there should be a sign.
Clerk: I don’t see what fair has to do with it. Giving you this waiver is unfair to every law-
abiding employee.
Customer: At last, I’m being unfair to someone.
Clerk: Go. Your form’s approved.
Customer: A rulebreaker like me doesn’t mind tearing up a form.
Clerk: What’s the point? You’re scheduled for day after tomorrow.
Customer: I’ll spend what time I have in spreading the word. The system’s breaking down.
Clerk: I told you there must be some reason for you to live a while longer.
Theresa Moritz’s stories are published in TheRavensPerch, newpoetry.ca, The Prairie Journal, and elsewhere. One was chosen honorable mention in the 2025 awards of New Millennium magazine, Flash category. Her stories have received two COPA nominations (Canadian Online Publishing Awards), a Pushcart Prize nomination, and shortlisting for the Malahat Review novella contest.
