Fiction

Why Amazon Raised its Minimum Wage to $15 an Hour

Jeff Bezos entered his office at the Amazon MegaWarehouse, breathing a sigh of relief as he locked the door behind him — the hardest working CEO in the world rarely gets a moment of time to himself. Looking around, he took in the room’s grandeur as he had thousands of times before. Not only did he have full view of the entire warehouse through the one-way glass walls and floor, but the central command centre enabled close-up surveillance of any point within it. He grinned, shook his booty, and rubbed his hands together. He’d been looking forward to this during his long week of hard work, in which he had at last ascended to his rightful place as the world’s richest person. Such an accolade only could have been achieved by a man of his once-in-a-generation brilliance.

Before getting started, however, he needed to check out the latest news.

“Alexa, show me the Washington Post.” The feed from his personal news outlet was immediately projected onto the gigantic screen before him.

He scrolled through the headlines. Jeff Bezos World’s Richest Person. Amazon Creates Millions of Jobs. Amazon Workers DO NOT Want a Union. Russian Fake News Propaganda Campaign Against Hero Jeff Bezos Exposed. Governor Cuomo Offers Jeff Bezos Public Rimming in Exchange for Warehouse in NY. Why We Need War with Iran. His grin was as almost as wide as the gap between his personal wealth and the GDP of the entire country of Uruguay.

One in particular caught his eye: Donald Trump Says Amazon Should Pay More Tax; Patriotic Americans of the Resistance Defy Him by Buying More Amazon Products.

“Excellent,” he exclaimed correctly. “He’ll stand no chance against my candidature in 2020.”

But that was for later. Right now, he had more important matters to attend to. “Alexa, scan the warehouse for time thieves.” His grin now ascended beyond the confines of his face.

It only took two seconds to find a dishonest miscreant. “Alert! Alert!” Alexa righteously exclaimed, “unproductive worker found in Sector C1-A. Culprit: Shelf Stacker #42069. Presenting video.”

There it was: a lazy employee audaciously taking a phone call right there on the warehouse floor, despite the fact that he was being paid a fair and just market-dictated rate of $7.20 an hour in exchange for his labour. This scene would have shocked a lesser man, but Jeff Bezos wouldn’t be the world’s richest and thus most virtuous person without the mental fortitude to withstand such trauma.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” The grin was no more. “Alexa, zoom and enhance, I want to hear just what this ungrateful slob thinks is so much more important than serving my benevolent Amazon, Inc. by carrying that seventy-eight-pound box to its designated location.”

A shrill, screeching, beastly voice played over the room’s loudspeakers. “Yes, ve vill start in five minutes. Dey hev no idea about de union or de strike. Da, fifteen dollars an hour, dis is de demand. We vill bankrupt this company and ruin America, tovarich. KAKAKAKAKAKAKA!”

“Dear Obama!” Bezos said, mouth agape. “REAL Americans would never speak of unionisation. The evil Russian communist subversives have infiltrated our company!” It seemed that Vladimir Putin, who uncoincidentally has the same first name as the founder of communism, Vladimir Lenin, was not content only with stealing Hillary Clinton’s turn. His clutches knew no bounds, and he now sought to destroy America’s very livelihood.

Alexa didn’t need to be told what to do. 0.443 seconds after Bezos finished his sentence, the Chief of Police was on the line. “Master Bezos, sir! What is the issue?”

“Unionisation, I repeat, unionisation.”

“That’s terrible, sir. Anything else?”

“Russians.”

“Oh my, sir. Anything else?”

“Uh, well, some of the people unionising are probably black.”

“Dear god, sir. We’re on our way!”

The future of America hung in the balance. Luckily, it was in the capable hands of our boys in blue.

Thirty seconds later, a police M1 Abrams crashed through the wall, crushing an unsuspecting Russian-compromised communist subversive undertread.

“Stop resisting!” yelled the driver as he continued along.

The pawns of Big Labour were taken by surprise. They huddled together communistically in the middle of the warehouse floor, pissing themselves in unison. Their inability to control their bladders during work hours was a telltale symptom of lazy layaboutery.

“Get on the ground, now!” the police tank blared through its loudspeaker, offering the lazy do-nothings mercy that they did not deserve.

All obliged but one: the swine that Bezos had earlier caught red-handed. “I vish to speak vith Mister Bezos.”

Jeff Bezos flew down from his office with the jetpack handcrafted for him by his best friend and fellow visionary genius, Elon Musk, landing directly in front of the instigator. He crossed his arms and was extremely sure that he looked very cool. After all, the photographers in his publicity shoots had always assured him so.

“Mister Bezos, ve demand a…”

Suddenly, the tank fired, righteously euthanising one of the lethargic labourers who was face down on the ground with both hands behind his back. “He had a gun. Carry on.”

“Uh… Anyvay, Gospojin Bezos, ve demand a living vage.”

Jeff chuckled. He knew this pinko fool was no match for his intellect. His grin finally returned, this time longer than a line of Silicon Valley technology employees at an Amazon, Inc. Whole Foods store.

“You see this?” he asked, holding up a piece of paper. “This is a graph that shows the amount of people living on a dollar a day worldwide. Do you notice how rapidly it’s decreased since the 1970s? Evidence based policy!”

Unfathomably, the Ruski shrugged, daring to reply. “A takzhe? One dollar a day is very low bar, da? Ve demand fifteen dollars an hour!” He was oblivious to how ridiculous this request was.

For the first time in his life, Bezos felt self-doubt. The graph was objective proof that capitalism is the way forward for humanity, showing definitively that everyone benefits from the hard work of trailblazing geniuses like himself, even people who live in weird countries like Africa that don’t even have Amazon Prime. This useful idiot’s communist indoctrination was clearly strong. It was time to bring out the big guns.

Of course, Jeff Bezos had just the thing. He cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, looking his pathetic and illogical adversary straight in the eyes.

“Animal Farm.”

Immediately, the communists disintegrated marvellously into nothingness, unable to withstand such incredible doctrine. America was saved.

Bezos graciously thanked the officers for their service. They lined up and stood at attention as he shook each of their hands, saluted them, and handed them a 20% off voucher for donuts on Amazon.com. He flew back up to his office to a thunderous, donut-anticipatory applause.

“Alexa, get the governor on the line.”

“Master Bezos, what is it you wish?” the governor greeted.

“I need you get me a few thousand contracted replacement staff for my warehouse, stat. All hard workers, at least fifty-percent women, and none of those whiny millennial babies who think eighty hours a week is excessive.”

“Of course, right away, my lord. This will make Amazon even more of a leader in job creation and diversity. Please don’t leave our state.”

Jeff hung up, his grin now eclipsing the distance from Earth to he and Elon’s future Mars colony. His gaze was now fixed on the comically oversized red button before him, conveniently marked ‘RAISE MINIMUM WAGE TO $15’.

“I’ll be damned if some union schmucks think they can make me, The Benevolent Mr. Bezos, raise MY company’s minimum wage. I choose to do it myself.”

He slammed his face against the button.


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