Received a cryptic message on the defunct USEC channel. "New Years Present" was all it said with some coordinates for an in-person meet. Now what? My first instinct was to blow it off. It's probably some corporate bullshit, like release-from-liability papers they want me to sign. But aren't they out of business? I mean, if not, I wouldn't be stuck here.
I couldn't help getting my hopes up. Maybe they were going to send me home. So I went.
As I walked there, I kept telling myself not to be optimistic. As an employer, USEC never failed to disappoint, why should this be any different? But I didn't expect "surreal", so they well and truly surprised me.
"Hey, mate! Merry Christmas". Corporate guy with an American accent talking like he was an Australian. Poser? Or maybe he had just done a lot of time in southeast Asia? Who am I to criticize? Me whose mirror reflection is "going soviet" before my very eyes.
"So, mate, we planned out this whole christmas thing for the boys last year, before things went tits up. Seemed a shame to let it go to waste. So, here ya go. Happy New Year, what. "
I was speechless, at a complete loss for words. This was no fruitcake. Ammo case, armored rig, nods, ears, round after round of BP ammo. And grenades - so many. Enough to take Metz. And, the centerpiece, a ridiculous christmas-red drum fed AKMN with sights and suppressor and spare drums.
My silence unnerved him. "You okay, mate?"
I was still overwhelmed. But I finally croaked out a tiny plaintive question. "Can I go home?"
"Ahh, that. Sorry - nothing I can do about that. But THIS should make things a bit easier, eh?"
I nodded. "Thank you."
I don't know why, but I suddenly felt bad for not having a gift of my own to give him. I brought out the Iskra lunchbox I had intended to eat on the trip and held it towards him. "Happy New Year".
He eyed it, half amused. "No, mate, you keep it. Good luck out there."
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