What the hell’s going on out there?
I don’t understand what you mean.
Look at them. (Pause.) Look …
What?
Does that look like the right attitude to you to get anything done? Those faces, the way they’re moving … where’s the energy? Where’s the intensity? Where’s the ...
What do you expect?
What do you mean?
Morale’s at an all-time low. (Pause.) What with restructuring after restructuring …
Careful, there. (Pause.) Tread very, very carefully …
I’m sorry?
When morale’s low, productivity’s low.
I know.
Meaning more need for restructuring …
I see.
And these restructurings can go on and on until the company itself disappears. (Pause.) Am I making myself clear?
We just want to know what’s happening.
What’s happening?
Yes, what’s happening. And how and why it’s going to affect us.
What’s happening? What the hell’s going to happen? You’re on the payroll! What is it you need to liven up those faces down there? To get them working with some enthusiasm? Beer? Music?
Information. That’s all.
The above sample taken from the translation Precarious Theatre by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Once upon a time … in a land far, far away …
What?
The DAD lets the storybook drop between his hands. He takes a deep breath and, his voice trembling, starts to tell a tale.
Once upon a time, a very ordinary man woke up without a job or a wage.
Pause. The LITTLE BOY looks up at his father with a tiny scrunched up face.
Why?
Because his factory, the company he used to work for, was no longer there.
Why?
It had gone somewhere else. To another country …
How? Did it fly away? (Pause.) Were there witches?
The DAD smiles painfully.
Yes, that’s it. The very ordinary man knew there were witches involved. A big sinister witch, called Economic Globalisation.
What?
And she had a little sister. Called Offshoring.
Those names are weird. And do they have any superpowers?
Of course. They’ve the power to take the food and the jobs of people from one country and move them to another. From one continent to another.
Why?
Well, so that the powerful become more powerful and earn more and more money.
Oh. (Pause.) And what happened?
Nothing. The very ordinary man knew that nothing would happen. As usual. Only that unemployment would grow in the country where the company used to be. Many people would end up like him, unable to work …
The above sample taken from the translation Precarious Theatre by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
I can’t.
You can’t?
It makes no sense. We’d all end up losing out.
All? Who do mean by ‘all’?
Listen, son. I …
Don’t you think it’s time to get things out in the open? To set things right?
Easier said than done.
The SON feverishly stuffs a fistful of pages back into the files and heads towards the door, muttering.
And you lot are surprised that people don’t believe a word you say.
Where are you going?
There’ve been too many letdowns. The public’s had it right up to here. (He makes a gesture demonstrating his point.)
Wait!
People aren’t stupid, Dad. You know the enemy’s within, that all the time, sing-songs and flag-waving in the world won’t conceal your dirty little secrets anymore.
The FATHER rushes towards his SON.
Where has this come from?
Let me go.
Are you ashamed of me? (Pause.) Tell me. Are you ashamed of me?
No. (Pause.) Of course not.
Do you doubt that I’m a good politician? An honest man?
The opposite.
Well then?
Either you’re a fool for not noticing …
It’s not that easy, you know.
Or you’re implicated …
Me?
Yes, implicated by association. For looking the other way.
What was I supposed to do?
The SON waves the files in front of his face.
You know everything now.
What do you want me to do?
Let the cat out of the bag! The cat out of the bag!
The above sample taken from the translation Precarious Theatre by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Entry written by Gwynneth Dowling. Last updated on 4 May 2011.