Sufferance

n. Patient endurance, especially of pain or distress.

n. Suffering; misery.

n. Sanction or permission implied or given by failure to prohibit; tacit consent; tolerance.

Aristotle Amadopolis stood by Burns' desk and said, "You should really try a new management style. It can do wonders for worker productivity."

"Oh? And just what would you propose I change?"

"You could have a game room and give them more breaks to use it."

"More breaks? I'm afraid your grasp of business is slipping, Ari."

"More breaks, but also longer hours. They are more willing to work hard for longer hours knowing they can spend some of that time playing games. At the Shelbyville plant, we now have virtual reality arcade games, including most recently Ms. Pacman."

"Ms. Pacman, you say?" Burns rubbed his chin. "Legal has been trying to persuade me to switch to releasing virtual hounds on employees during work hours. I couldn't retire my hounds, though. Chasing irritants and viciously tearing into them is what they live for. And I prefer to stick with tried and true methods. The VR headsets may still inflict pain, but nothing can replace the satisfying sound of teeth gnawing at flesh and bone."

"Virtual punishments are more effective than you may think. When my employees are caught slacking, they are put into the gladiator simulator and forced to confront virtual lions. At first I worried they would intentionally start slacking for the adrenaline rush, but the virtual pain receptor technology is remarkably effective."

"Any other 'innovative solutions' you care to proselytize about?"

"You could do as I have done, and start a program to pay for employees' continuing education."

"Oh, who cares? Half of my employees are barely literate, and things are just fine."

"Then what is that red light flashing for?" said Amadopolis, gesturing to a bright red light on the ceiling flashing.

"Warning. Situation critical."

"And what is that warning message for?"

"Oh, this again." Burns stood from his desk and opened the monitor screens along the wall. He pressed a button to activate the intercom system and said, "Stewart! Quit flapping your feathers and get on it!" Visible on the monitor, Stewart the duck startled and then scurried through a hall over a couple of different monitors, then reappeared at Homer Simpson's station, where Homer was sleeping in his chair. Stewart flapped his wings and jumped onto the console and pecked at a button. Homer woke up as the red light was replaced by a green light, then fell back asleep.

"See?" said Burns. "It's as I said, everything is fine."

"Whatever you say."

"Anyway, I've tried these management fads – fun hat days, plentiful tartar sauce, paid sick leave – but the benefits don't last. No, Ari, it's not in some trendy management style, but personnel. That's what makes the difference. Surround yourself with top-level talent willing to do your bidding, then fill the rest of the drone positions with the cheapest labor you can scrape off the sidewalk."

"I've taken a cue from you in that department. Meet Gary Mullins, my new assistant. Mullins!" At his call, a man in his early forties with black hair wearing a suit and tie walked into the room. "He'll do nearly anything for me. Mullins, get me my tea."

"Right away, sir," said Mullins, walking out again.

"Nearly anything, you say? I suppose that makes you the envy of most men."

"Don't try to tell me your... Smithers would do absolutely anything for you."

"That's where you're wrong, Ari, and I'll prove it." Smithers walked in with a tray of tea. "Ah, Smithers, I was just talking about what a loyal, faithful assistant you are."

"I aim to please."

"Good, then sort these invoices in alphabetical order." He handed Smithers a pile of invoices an inch thick.

"Right away, sir."

"And do it while riding this in circles around my office," he said, pulling out a unicycle. Smithers looked at him in confusion, but a glance at Burns and at Amadopolis and back at Burns clued him in.

"Of course," he said with a smile toward Amadopolis, but when he turned to face Burns again, he creased his brow in annoyance. He rode the unicycle around while sorting the invoices, then handed Burns the stack about a minute later. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

Burns sipped from his tea. "No, I think I've proven my point."

"And what point was that?"

"That I have the most top-notch assistant in the business. Your Mullins can't possibly outmatch my Smithers."

Mullins strode in confidently with Amadopolis' tea. "Here you are, sir," he said, then startled when he turned his head toward Burns and spotted Smithers, spilling some of the tea. "Waylon?" said Mullins.

"Oh, uh, Gary..."

"You know each other?" said Amadopolis.

"We've met," said Mullins. "On a –"

"A party, at a party."

"Right."

Burns eyed Smithers suspiciously and said, "Since when did you attend a party without me?"

"Oh, it was awhile ago."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Amadopolis said, making his way to the door, "but I have to go shake the dew off some grape leaves."

Once he'd left, Mullins said, "Waylon, can I talk to you in the hall?" Smithers looked to Burns, who waved them away. They left the office and closed the door behind them. Unbeknownst to them, as soon as the door shut, Burns rushed to it and turned the doorknob gingerly to open it a crack without making an audible sound. He peered through the crack in the door.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Gary," said Smithers, wearing a goofy, affectionate smile.

Mullins wore a similar expression. "It wasn't that long ago. And we didn't meet at any party."

"I know, but I don't want to advertise my social life to my boss."

"Are you afraid he'll fire you?"

"No, no – actually, I'm always a little afraid he'll fire me, but not for that reason. I mean, I used to worry about it, but no, I know he doesn't have a problem with it."

"Good." Mullins kissed Smithers with a caress of his cheek. "Maybe we can meet up tonight."

Smithers' eyes lit up and he said, "See you at eight." As Smithers turned toward the door, Burns scuttled back to his chair just in time, grabbing a newspaper off his desk and acting nonchalant as Smithers walked back in.

"Oh, Smithers, you're back," he said, laying the paper flat over his desktop. "There's a documentary series playing at the local art theater about prohibition times at six. Care to join me for five hours of felonious fun?"

"Actually, sir, I have some plans tonight."

"Oh. I thought it would be fun to revisit prohibition times. Some of the best times of my life were had during prohibition... both times."

"I'll get my coat."

Amadopolis entered the office with Mullins close behind. "So, Burns, you still up for dinner tonight?"

"No, I have other plans."

Smithers turned to Mullins and said, "I'm sorry, Gary, we'll have to cancel our plans tonight. I'm running an important errand for Mr. Burns."

"You aren't running any errand! You said we're going to see the documentary tonight."

Smithers laughed nervously. "Right, of course. We'll have to leave soon if we want to be seated before it starts."

As they left, Burns posed smugly to Amadopolis and Mullins. "I told you he couldn't possibly top Smithers. I'm the only one allowed to top Smithers."

Mullins said under his breath, "So we've heard."