Sin And Salvation In The Church Of The Corporation

Sin And Salvat= ion In The Church Of The Corporation

© John Armato 1996<= /span>

Recently I changed jobs. I wasn’t looking, = but when one of the world’s largest international communication firms contacted= me three years after I interviewed wi= th them, I was pretty flattered. So w= hen they asked if I was happy at my current job, I told them, yeah, I was happy= —but I could always be happier.

Six weeks of courtship ensued, along with a vague sense of adulterous guilt. I don’t know if it’s my Catholic upbrin= ging, my gently neurotic family history, or just a general character flaw that ma= kes me think I’m responsible for everyone else’s happiness, but I’m prone to inordinate loyalty.

So instead of feeling like I had a rather flattering choice between jobs, I fe= lt more as if I were having some sort of lapse of faith in my current employer. After all, hadn’t they g= iven me everything I’d asked for? Didn’t they give me a raise and promotion? Did= n’t I get every other Friday afternoon off? Wasn’t every day casual day? For God’s sake, what was wrong with me?

Exactly. For God’s sake.

It didn’t hit me until I told my boss that I had another offer and that I inte= nded to take it. But then his reaction,= and his boss’s reaction and his boss’s boss’s reaction made me thi= nk “This must be what it’s like when someone tries to leave one of those really hard-core churches.”

The day after I told the three of them, I was ushered into the conference room = to receive The Sacrament Of The Counter Offer. And it felt like this corporate trinity was offering me as much redemption as it was cash. “Repent= and all will be forgiven. But stray fr= om the flock and be awash in sin.”

My sin was my being tempted to turn my back on the Gospel according to the corporation. But as long as it was= only temptation—and not action—there were nothing but hands stretching out to gu= ide me back and to usher me into the confessional where I would be absolved and once again profess my faith in the one true company. Didn’t I know that this was the right way? The way of truth, light= , and future stock options?

As I contemplated redemption at their hands, members of the church made their = way to me, one by one, to offer counsel and affirmation. One scary person even told me how much = I was loved. My name, it seemed, had been added to the prayer list.

As this increasingly surreal and hyper-sincere requiem for my soul played out = from one cubicle-shaped chapel of capitalism to the next, I half expected to fin= d a bake sale in the break room, raising funds for the counteroffer.=

But in the church of the corporation, it’s not your soul they’re interested in. Rather, the high priests live = in fear that once a former true believer begins to voice his doubts, the rest = of the congregation might follow.

Clearly the only way to staunch the floodwaters would be to rebaptize the sinner as soon as possible. Then, not only w= ould there be no one to lead the flock astray, but the flock would find new conviction. Then, one of their own= would have resisted Satan Incorporated’s mountain-top promises and rediscovered salvation in the bosom of the corporation.

Coincidentally, the church of the corporation was blessed with a surefire opportunity to ma= ke such a rebaptisim happen. Right sm= ack dab in the middle of my deliberations came the annual company retreat. This was the equivalent of a tent reviv= al, wherein visions of the promised land would be shared, credos recited, elders anointed, and the tally of a year’s worth of collection plate receipts joyo= usly announced. If I wasn’t touched by = the spirit there, then maybe I just wasn’t one of the chosen people.=

Eventually, I was left to wrestle with my demons on my own. They had done all they could do.

I knew if I decided to bite into the apple and leave, I would be seen as the victim of a failed exorcism. And t= hose who remained would either invoke the wrath of hell upon me during those lon= g, last two weeks—or perhaps they would dispense with the two weeks entirely a= nd simply cast me out of Paradise.

You see, to the devout member of the church of the corporation, the only thing worse than leaving the church entirely is changing denominations.

And that is exactly what I decided to do.

When I told a friend how relieved I was when I finally made a decision to take t= he new job offer—how I felt like a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulde= rs and how I had achieved a peace of mind unknown in the turmoil and agonizing decision-making of the previous days—he said it sounded like a salvation experience.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I just wasn’t me= ant to be in that old job. Sure, I still = had a vague sense of guilt and a few second guesses, but they were diminishing. I was bothered less and less by the loo= k of sadness and confusion that clung to the faces of each of my former fellow parishioners as I followed my faith elsewhere.

I had found a new way. A new community. A new congregation. The soul of my career was to be refresh= ed in the church of a new corporation.

I was excited, but exhausted. I sile= ntly wished never again to be at the center of such struggle between sin and salvation in the church of the corporation.

The coldness at my back became more bearable as I walked humbly toward the ligh= t.

Better Offer, get thee behind me.

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