May 11, 2018

Flash Fiction by Daginne Aignend: "Targets"

Daginne Aignend is a pseudonym for the Dutch writer, poetess, photographic artist Inge Wesdijk. She likes hard rock music, fantasy books, is a vegetarian who loves her animals. She's the Poetry Editor of Whispers and has been published in many poetry journals, magazines and anthologies, in the 'Tears' Anthology of the NY Literary Magazine to name one. She has a fun project website www.daginne.com





Targets




Eight O' clock sharp, he would enter the office, like every day since the last 50 years. His work has 

been a part of his life since, forever.

After finishing High School they employed him at 'Forsureance' as the errand-boy, some kind of Jack 

of all Trades, helping out whenever he was needed at the office.
He was a reliable and punctual young man and after two years he was promoted to the sales department of the insurance company which gave him much pleasure, having real contacts with his clients.
For sure, a lot has been changed. Computers, cell phones simply didn't exist. If someone would have told him back then that communication would take place between computers in the future, he probably would have called that someone a fanciful daydreamer who had read too many science fiction stories.
But he adjusted in every new situation, took in every novelty and innovation, the compliant person as he always has been. Motivated, because he loved his job.

He couldn't recall the moment when he first heard of the expression 'targets'. He didn't understand the meaning but soon realized he had to score. 
Instead of giving his clients an honest advice how to invest and increase their savings, he has to sell them unnecessary insurances and talk them into the dangerous financial jungle of the stock exchange. He couldn't get used to this way of working, too much pressure and especially, too much disloyalty towards his clients. Some of them really became good friends through the years.

He looked forward to the day of his retirement and spending some more time with the wife and to visit his grandchildren. To enjoy the little things in life again.

---

His wife found his lifeless body in his favorite armchair. After years of hunting down his monthly quotas, the grim de-stress factor finally made him its target.

~Daginne Aignend

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