Setting: A grocery store. You grab a shopping cart and enter the sliding door. The avatar of business itself materializes before you. He is a translucent image of a man straddling the line between Mad Men advertising executive and Al Capone just prior to going to prison. There are no pinstripes on his three-piece suit, but you could swear you can see some.

He floats beside your cart, looking at you. Though he’s only a foot tall, you get the sense that he’s looking down on you in a way that would make Principal Skinner say, “OK, that’s a little too harsh.” He opens his mouth to speak, in a voice you can only describe as “intensely detached.”

Avatar of Business: You have more money.

You: Yeah, it's kinda nice. I can-

Avatar of Business: Give me more of it.

A few seconds pass before you reply. He seems oblivious to your shock.

You: ...excuse me?

Avatar of Business: You have more money. I want some of it.

You: Well, yes, but…no?

Avatar of Business: Give me more money.

Despite his words, his tone seems to imply no threat.

You: I already give you lots of money. Every single week. You take most of my paycheck!

Avatar of Business: But you have more money. So give me more.

You: I pay you a thousand dollars every month for food each month. 5 years ago, I only had to give you half of that. I don't want to give you more; I want to go back to what I was paying you before.

Avatar of Business: You can't do that.

You: Why not?

Avatar of Business: Because then I won't give you food.

His casual disinterest is still confounding you. The feeling occurs to you that, maybe, you should feel threatened.

You: But you won't get my money either.

Avatar of Business: Yes I will. 

You: How?

Avatar of Business: You need food.

You: So I’ll just get it somewhere else, from someone who isn’t just randomly increasing the prices.

Avatar of Business: No you won’t.

You quickly realize that he isn’t just threatening you. He’s showing you how things really are.

You: Again, how can you know this?

Avatar of Business: Because other people selling food increased their prices, too.

AVATAR looks up at you with an intensity he has not thus far shown.

Avatar of Business: Why do you think I raised my prices?

You: I…don’t follow.

Avatar of Business: They get more money. So I should, too.

You: I understand wanting more money; I think we all want more. But you’re not changing anything about what you do, you’re just charging me more for the same thing.

Avatar of Business: Because you have more money.

You: Because I agreed to work harder for it.

Avatar of Business: It doesn’t matter why you have it. They get more money. So I should, too.

You: That logic is still…not logic. It’s an opinion.

Avatar of Business: No. It’s market value.

You instinctively raise your voice as you suppress thoughts of violence.

You: And pray tell, what is “market value”?

Avatar of Business: How much we can get for what we’re selling.

You: And…how is that decided?

Avatar of Business: Oh, that’s simple. It’s an average of how much each product is selling for across all of the different places where they’re sold.

You think for a few seconds before you come to a frustrated conclusion.

You: And who decides how much the product is selling for?

Avatar of Business: I do.

******

Your conversation with the avatar continues as he floats beside your shopping cart. Yes, the avatar is a man. Only someone with thousands of years of easy access to the seats of power could be this arrogant, and yet completely oblivious.

You cringe in disgust as you find the price of paper plates has gone up nearly a dollar.

You: There must be some better reason you’re increasing your prices.

Avatar of Business: Why does there need to be?

You: Well…because…you’re literally taking more money without giving more service.

Avatar of Business: Yes.

You: In fact, I think you’re giving less service. This pack of plates is ten smaller than it was last week.

Avatar of Business: Yes.

You: …

Avatar of Business: …

Though you’re giving AVATAR the meanest facial expressions you can conjure, he seems unperturbed. He looks down at your cart, then up at a shelf, nodding.

You: Aren’t you going to explain why?

Avatar of Business: (shrugging) I wasn’t planning to discuss it any further.

You: So you expect me to just pay more without an explanation for the price change?

Avatar of Business: Yes.

You: Would you even give me an explanation if I asked?

Avatar of Business: I’ve already explained it. You have more. I want more.

You let out a low growl. There has to be more, you say to yourself, but you’re unsure how to pry an explanation out of this infuriating little man.

You: I’m providing you a service, too; you know that, right?

Avatar of Business: Of course.

You: And what would happen if I treated you this way?

Avatar of Business: You mean, if you decided to pay what you wanted for the items you plan to purchase?

You: …yes. How did you know what I meant?

Avatar of Business: What other interaction would we have besides the transaction?

You: Fine. Whatever. Yeah, what would happen if I only paid what I paid before?

Avatar of Business: (reflexively) I would notify the police officer sitting just outside the entrance. He’d chase you down in his muscle car, force you to the ground, put you in handcuffs, and take you to jail. Later, we would press charges, seeking damages of more than a thousand dollars.

You: I only have $200 worth of stuff in the cart!

Avatar of Business: $210. The prices have increased since the last time you were here.

You: You’re going to give me a criminal record because I won’t pay you an extra ten dollars, when I never agreed to pay that extra money in the first place.

Avatar of Business: The price was never open for discussion.

You: Why not?

Avatar of Business: Why should it be?

The weight of your powerlessness begins to dawn on you as you see things for what they are. Not just this store, but the entire system.

You: Because I should have a choice on how much money I give you.

Avatar of Business: You do have a choice. Pay my price, or leave without the item.

You: But that-

Your groans of frustration are loud enough to draw the attention of the other people in your aisle.

You: (stammering) That…that’s not the choice I’m talking about.

Avatar of Business: It’s the only choice I’ll offer.

You: And you don’t see how unfair that is?

Avatar of Business: Of course I see it. That’s how I want it.

******

You stand in the checkout lane with your phone out, transferring money from your emergency savings. You do the mental math on how long it will last, because you know you won’t be replenishing it any time soon. You don’t like the conclusion you come to.

You glimpse the face of the cashier as he swipes the groceries of the person ahead of you. He is scanning feverishly, and he looks exhausted. You gesture at him subtly.

You: At least he’ll have more money, too.

Avatar of Business: (pauses, turns his head slowly to look at you) What makes you say that?

You: You’re going to give him more money, since I’m giving you more, right?

Avatar of Business: Why would I do that?

You: Because…it’s a good thing to do?

Avatar of Business: No it’s not. It would mean I’d have less money.

You: But it is a good thing that I will have less money?

Avatar of Business: Yes.

You: Why?

Avatar of Business: Because you’re not me.

You: I just…I don’t get it.

Avatar of Business: What don’t you get?

You: Why are you so bad? To me, to the people who work for you? Why do you hate us?

Avatar of Business: I don’t hate you. I couldn’t be where I am without you.

You: So why do you treat us so poorly?

Avatar of Business: Because putting you and my employee at a disadvantage makes me more money. There is no malice; this isn’t even out of the ordinary. I have to buy products from people who charge me as much as they can, before I sell them to you

A flash of brilliance occurs in your mind. You have him this time.

You: Wouldn’t it be better if they didn’t charge you so much?

Avatar of Business: Of course.

You: Why do they charge you so much?

Avatar of Business: To make as much money as they can.

You: So why don’t you pay less for the product?

Avatar of Business: I will.

The avatar says the last part with an assurance that borders on arrogance.

You: How?

Avatar of Business: I’ll buy the company that makes it.

Your feeling of brilliance fades rapidly as the full measure of this creature dawns on you.

You: (quietly, sadly) With the extra money I’m paying you.

Avatar of Business: Yes.

You: But you’ll keep the prices the same.

Avatar of Business: (as though it were a great new idea) I’ll probably increase them.

You: And you’ll keep shrinking the product.

Avatar of Business: Of course.

You: And you won’t raise the pay of the employees at the company you buy.

Avatar of Business: (looking down at his fingers as he picks a nail) Many of them won’t be employees after the purchase is complete.

The cashier sighs as he continues scanning the items. You briefly contemplate talking to him. The young man looks like he is just as exasperated as you. 

The two of you could share a moment of solidarity. There are more than two of you, in fact. You’d be hard-pressed to find a customer or employee who is happy that businesses work this way.

But there are police outside. They have guns, and friends with more guns.

You: You’re just greed, aren’t you? Not greedy; if you were greedy, you could change. This is…you’re awful, all the way through.

Avatar of Business: I’m nothing so dramatic. Not a virtue, not a religion, not a law of nature. I’m just the way you’ve chosen to do things.

You: I didn’t choose this!

Avatar of Business: Just a system you created.

You: I didn’t…I would never even dream of something as insufferable as you!

Avatar of Business: Now if you don’t mind, please pay for your items. A line is forming behind you.

The cashier looks up at you with an annoyed expression as the dead-eyed bagger loads the fifth bag of groceries into your cart. You look behind you and see the empty expressions of six other people pushing carts. None of the other 40 registers are manned.

You want to turn to the other customers, to rally them, to compel them to change this. There’s no way one cop could stop all of you. The cashier and bagger both look like they wouldn’t stop any of you if you walked through the front door without paying.

But you won’t. None of you will. More than disgust, you feel the subconscious pressure from the customers behind you, as they curse you for every second you steal from their own busy lives.

Avatar of Business: Thank you for shopping with us! We’ll see you again soon.

You want to tell him he’s wrong as you walk through the door. You want to scream obscenities until they are permanently embedded into the corrugated walls. But you know that you’ll never even meet the ones who need their noses pressed into this mess.

As you load the groceries into your trunk, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s a text from your partner, adding another item to the shopping list.

THE END.

Just kidding.  

This will go on for a long, long time.