While they wanted to bump up the profits, the founder was adamantly opposed to outsourcing. “What’s the good of hiring cheaper labor in India if we lose customers who are pissed because we don’t provide a living wage for our workers?
Kieran stabbed at the keyboard, but nothing happened on screen. The mouse pointer swirled endlessly and somehow seemed to scold him. “I’ll have a quote on your policy in just a moment, Mrs. Stenson,” he said into the microphone in his most calm voice, but in his anxiety his native accent came through, blurring vowels.
“Where are you calling from?”
She was going to hang up nay moment now. He already knew he would lose this sale.
Still he cast his hopes toward her through the phone on the thread of his voice. “ComCorp does thank you for your time and all your years of service with us, ma’am,” he crooned.
Fifteen jobs had been outsourced, and fifteen hardworking citizens were sent home. The fifteenth of them was Sylvia Clement, and she had been toiling at her career for a solid twenty years. She hated the fact that she would have to go home, to her ailing father and her wife on disability, and let them know that their income had been cut in half. Maybe they would have to sell the house. Maybe, Sylvia feared, she would have to pretend she was twenty-two again and start entirely from scratch.
There was silence, then murmuring, then even some hesitant applause. Dave stared at his lawyer, as his mind struggled to process the information it had just received. He had been denied custody, but allowed visitation rights one day a week. He wanted to complain, to object, but he could only stutter useless gibberish as the judge proclaimed his duties and obligations as blandly as if he was
describing cleaning duties outsourced to a staffing agency.
It wasn’t their style to be dirty in public. In fact, they hardly ever held hands in front of people, yet here they were in the library, Ikkaku with his pants around his knees. They were supposed to be working on a term paper, but had abandoned the work when Ikkaku got riled up by Yumichika’s ‘better-than-you’ talk.
Now they were playing a game where Yumichika would torture him slowly and only give him what he wanted every time he found a ten-letter word or a four-syllable one. Ikkaku seriously thought he was going to die, because he couldn’t shut up his own moans and on top of that, Yumichika was giving him that look that drove him absolutely nuts.
We’ve outsourced that position, said the manager.
Outsourced waitstaff? That’s ridiculous.
I know, he said. We’ve saved over fifteen percent year over year.
But where is my food?
Well, that’s an unfortunate consequence, but the rest of our experience has remained unchanged, right?
While they wanted to bump up the profits, the founder was adamantly opposed to outsourcing. “What’s the good of hiring cheaper labor in India if we lose customers who are pissed because we don’t provide a living wage for our workers?
Kieran stabbed at the keyboard, but nothing happened on screen. The mouse pointer swirled endlessly and somehow seemed to scold him. “I’ll have a quote on your policy in just a moment, Mrs. Stenson,” he said into the microphone in his most calm voice, but in his anxiety his native accent came through, blurring vowels.
“Where are you calling from?”
She was going to hang up nay moment now. He already knew he would lose this sale.
Still he cast his hopes toward her through the phone on the thread of his voice. “ComCorp does thank you for your time and all your years of service with us, ma’am,” he crooned.
Fifteen jobs had been outsourced, and fifteen hardworking citizens were sent home. The fifteenth of them was Sylvia Clement, and she had been toiling at her career for a solid twenty years. She hated the fact that she would have to go home, to her ailing father and her wife on disability, and let them know that their income had been cut in half. Maybe they would have to sell the house. Maybe, Sylvia feared, she would have to pretend she was twenty-two again and start entirely from scratch.
OUTSAUCED:
(Definition) -To take one’s ketchup and squirt it all over your frienemies, declaring “Dude! You’ve just been OUTSAUCED! BOOM!”
There was silence, then murmuring, then even some hesitant applause. Dave stared at his lawyer, as his mind struggled to process the information it had just received. He had been denied custody, but allowed visitation rights one day a week. He wanted to complain, to object, but he could only stutter useless gibberish as the judge proclaimed his duties and obligations as blandly as if he was
describing cleaning duties outsourced to a staffing agency.
It wasn’t their style to be dirty in public. In fact, they hardly ever held hands in front of people, yet here they were in the library, Ikkaku with his pants around his knees. They were supposed to be working on a term paper, but had abandoned the work when Ikkaku got riled up by Yumichika’s ‘better-than-you’ talk.
Now they were playing a game where Yumichika would torture him slowly and only give him what he wanted every time he found a ten-letter word or a four-syllable one. Ikkaku seriously thought he was going to die, because he couldn’t shut up his own moans and on top of that, Yumichika was giving him that look that drove him absolutely nuts.
This is a horrible word…….Out sauced-when theres too much sauce …..couldn’t care less about the real word