Rejected

Beads of sweat gathered on Albert’s forehead as the boss rattled off the testing procedures at breakneck speed. He stayed silent, too afraid to interrupt, knowing his work visa could be revoked for any reason, sending him back across the border. Still, he was determined to do a good job.

The boss patted Albert on the back, flashed a quick smile, and said, “You’ll do fine.” Before Albert could ask any questions, the boss had already rushed out of the lab.

Leo took a long swig of his Royal Crown Cola, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and said, “Don’t worry. If you’ve got questions, just ask me.”

“That’s very kind of you. I must say, I’m happy to be in your country. I’ll work hard, I promise.”

Leo smirked. “My country? I’m on a work visa too. Everyone in this lab is.”

Albert blinked. “Really? I thought I’d be doing hard labor. It’s surprising they’ve given me so much responsibility. I’m going to make sure every battery is fully tested. Nothing will slip through that isn’t perfect.”

Leo chuckled. “Yeah, well… we’ll see about that.”

The job was easier than Albert had imagined. The lab was air-conditioned, the chairs were comfortable, and all they had to do was test batteries and stamp each batch either ‘approved’ or ‘rejected.’

At the end of his first week, Albert received his paycheck. It was more money than he had ever seen. He rushed to the bank, wiring half of it home to his mother. The next day at work, he bought two cans of Royal Crown Cola and handed one to Leo in gratitude for showing him the ropes.

By the third week, Albert encountered his first batch of failed batteries. He reached for the reject stamp when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Put it down,” Leo said.

Albert frowned. “The batteries failed the test. I’m supposed to reject them.” He pulled his hand away and prepared to stamp the form.

“Do you want to stay in this country?”

“Very much so. Do you know there are these two guys who make ice cream? Ben and Jerry. It has peanut butter, chocolate, and pretzels. They call it Chubby Hubby. This is a very great country.”

“You stamp that form reject, and no more Chubby Hubby for you.”

Albert gave Leo a confused look. “I have to do my job. These batteries failed.”

“Look, the reason everyone in this lab is on a work visa is so we follow orders. Reject a batch, and we get deported.” Leo shook his head. “If they used regular workers, someone could blow the whistle. Hold a press conference and disclose what is going on. For us, the minute they suspect we might cause waves, we are deported back over the border.”

“Then why test them?”

“Government regulations. Just stamp it approved.”

Albert hesitated. “What happens if a bad battery slips through?”

“It might catch fire. But that’s rare.”

Albert noticed the boss walking by. He called out to him, and the boss strode over, frowning. “Problem,” the boss asked.

“This batch failed the test. Should I reject it?”

The boss squirmed. “Are you sure you did the test correctly?”

“Yes, I checked twice.”

The boss leaned in slightly. “Look, I won’t tell you what to do. Testing’s your responsibility, not mine. But remember—a batch of batteries is worth more than a year’s salary. If you’ve got doubts, talk to Leo. He knows how things work around here.”

Albert swallowed, his hand hovering over the stamps. Leo pointed to the ‘approve’ stamp. Albert picked it up and glanced at Leo and his boss. The boss smiled, and Leo nodded his head. Albert stamped the form approved.

The boss patted him on the back and walked away.

#

A month later, on his way home from work, Albert heard the news. A jetliner had crashed. Investigators believed a lithium battery had caught fire in the cargo hold, spreading flames throughout the plane. All one hundred and seventy-two souls aboard were lost.

That night, Albert stared at a pint of ice cream as it melted.