Silence For Sale
January 31st, 2009 by (Michy)
I am a writer.
My voice is my fingertips, when I type out my poetry, prose, books, blogs and articles. Without my voice, I am a body without a soul.
Without writing, I am nothing.
Everything that I am or every will be stems from those simple words: I am a writer.
Being a writer, I’ve had occasion to write things that might not be popular, true things that might not be flattering.
Hypothetical Scenario: You are a writer, and you write something. You are contacted by someone with an offer of payment to remove the thing you wrote, because that thing, though true, puts something in a very negative light.
The amount of money is, to say the least, considerable, and by far much, much more than you could get selling that piece of writing.
Do you do it?
Can your silence be bought?
Several years ago, before I decided to lose my sanity and do for a living that which I already was inside: writing/er, I worked for about four weeks at a Christian broadcasting station, as a bookkeeping manager. This station was, well, odd. I try not to judge religions, and while I live with the Tao philosophy, I’m most closely resembling a Christian in ‘faith’.
And these Christians weren’t anything like Christians I’d ever known.
No judgement here, nope, none: they were weird.
First, they didn’t celebrate Christmas. I was told this before I was hired. They said I would not get Christmas Day off work and I had to be okay with that before they hired me. They said you didn’t have to be Christian to work there, and in fact, there was a Jewish lady who worked in the main office. Even if you were Christian, you didn’t have to be their faith.
There were a few other things they said too, but there is one thing that really stood out to me. Well, two actually, but they were so similar.
On my third day there, I said something, and one of the other ladies working in the office asked me, “How’d you manage to make that happen?”
I shrugged, and said, “I dunno. Just lucky, I guess.”
Now, this is a comment that is more of a colloquialism. When one says it, I’m not sure one truly has taken the time to sit down and analyze and determine if they truly believe in luck and if luck was what resulted in the occurrence. Still, I nonchalantly said it.
My supervisor, the office managing director, came up behind me and said, “We don’t do luck here.”
Real snotty like.
Another time, I said something about Murphy’s Law. Now come on, do you know anyone who practices Murphy’s Law as a religion?
Same supervisor said, “We don’t DO Murphy’s Law here.”
Okay, to be fair to me now, I’d had it up to here with this lady, and her oh so holier than though attitude and her no one can do anything right snottiness, and her… well, you get the idea.
So what did I do?
I responded by saying, “Well, you may not do Murphy’s Law, but he damn sure will do you.”
I should have held my tongue. I should have stayed silent.
This was a long time ago. I was younger, cockier, stupider, braver… and that job paid 14 bucks per hour and I was a single mom.
(shaking head) I got fired. Well, not really fired. See, they had hired me through a temp agency, and they simply didn’t ‘extend’ my contract.
Yeah.
So, what is the price you will accept for your silence?
Well, for me, I know it’s not 14 bucks per hour with benefits.
But that’s not the real silence. When I was ‘not extended’, they called me into the office and asked me to sign a non-disclosure agreement. The agreement stated that I would not reveal anything I had learned or seen while I worked there.
I think the big thing they wanted me to keep quiet about what how much money those ‘donate now to keep us on the air because we’re so poor’ church shows REALLY make on an average day.
Let’s put it this way – they made more in donations on an average day than I used to make in a corporate job in a month, by almost double.
Uh huh. Poor church my tooting behind.
So do you think I signed the agreement?
I did. But not before I asked, “And if I break the agreement, what, you’ll send some thugs to my house to break my legs?”
I think she was glad they didn’t extend my contract.
So the question: what is the value of your silence?
If you’ll excuse me, I have to go hide in the bathtub now until I’m sure the Christian thugs from the television station think I’m not home and go back to… wherever Christian leg breaking thugs go.
Love and stuff,
Michy
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