Bananenbuigerij by Michael Smith

What an induction day that was!

Unemployment had been high for years, and so the surprise arrival of Dutch company ‘Bananenbuigerij’ had been greeted with much enthusiasm in town. Like most of my friends, I’d sent in my application, and was one of those fortunate enough to be offered an interview.

The interview went well. The trio of polite Dutch managers made us all feel very relaxed and welcome. This could be a good company, I thought. It was with much excitement, therefore, that I discovered my application had been successful, and I would be commencing work once the brand new factory had been completed. That had been two months ago, and now all was ready. This was it – day one.

I joined the other new recruits in a large meeting room, low ceiling, strip lights, rows of plush chairs, dais at one end, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeating the room.

Meeting a couple of fellow inductees, I started up the usual banal chitchat one has to endure on these occasions. Eventually, I asked,

“So, does anyone know what Bananenbuigerij actually makes?”

“You mean, apart from large profits?”

“Yes, what is their actual product?”

There were a few shrugged shoulders before an eavesdropper interrupted with an answer.

“I checked them out. They seem legitimate, and doing very well on continental stock markets. Their name is Dutch for Banana Bending.”

We all looked at each other.

“Do you mean, literally?!”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think we’re about to find out. Here comes today’s first speaker. He’s the Chairman, I think.”

We all made our way dutifully to the ranks of seating, avoiding the front row, of course, and sat expectantly as a middle-aged man walked confidently to the lectern. Tall, with an orange tie – yes, he must be Dutch. In perfect English, he welcomed us all to Bananenbuigerij, and hoped ours would be a long and fruitful relationship. I noted that he smiled slightly as he used the word ‘fruitful’, hoping, perhaps, that some of us might understand his attempt at subtle humour. It only served to confirm, however, that our new employment would indeed involve bending bananas.

At the conclusion of his short speech, most of my colleagues (I guess I must call them that now) gave the speaker a rapturous round of applause. The chairman then left the room, with other seriously-suited individuals, to attend meetings of far greater gravity than ours, no doubt in rooms of rich wood-paneling, deep carpets, and superior quality coffee.

The next stage of our busy induction day was described as a Design Meeting, and for this we moved to the cafeteria, and divided into groups. Each group sat round a table; it felt a little like being back at school. On each table were the ominous instruments of corporate torture – coloured pens, sheets of flipchart paper, scissors, and the token gesture of a bag of sweets. We were instructed by Todd (with a vaguely Texan accent) to draw what we considered to be the ‘perfect’ banana (in fact, pairs of fingers on both his hands were used to emphasize the word ‘perfect’).

We set to work and drew a banana. There seemed little else to do. Todd circulated, looking meaningfully at each attempt before offering suggestions in the form of questions; “Is that the true curvature of a banana?” We looked thoughtful, as if this was some form of Philosophy exam. One group, clearly containing those wacky creative types, decided to design their banana using a purple marker. Genius! Why hadn’t our group thought of that, rather than sticking with the unimaginative yellow? They received a thumbs up from Todd, clearly a creative type himself.

Following a coffee break, the lights were dimmed, and we were treated to a smooth video outlining exactly the nature of Bananenbuigerij’s business. We were left in no doubt that for eight hours each day, five days per week, we would be bending bananas.

A rather earnest looking old man was next in line to continue our induction. He described himself as an expert in the finer points of European Food Law. He described, in great detail, how regulations governing the curvature of each banana sold in the EU had been debated at some length in Brussels, before being passed into law. He concluded by promising us that we had compatriots all over the continent, in similar establishments, ensuring that every fruit sold in the EU uniformly matched prescribed regulations. We could feel proud to be part of a mammoth, pan-European venture.

Exhausted by the overload of information, lunch was a relief. There was even a bowl of fruit on each table, bananas to the fore.

The afternoon was given over entirely to an explanation of the measures used to ensure full EU banana compliance.

“Data! We need data!” barked the grimly enthusiastic statistician leading this session.

“It is not enough to measure a mere sample of our bananas. No! We need detailed data on each and every banana passing through Bananenbuigerij. In addition to the bending of each banana, you will be required to measure, to within one tenth of a degree, what we like to call, the obliquity of the banana. You will record these data, submit them daily, and they will then be analyzed; nay, scrutinized, by my team on the third floor.

“Let me make it quite clear, here and now, that for any employee not applying the correct bend to the bananas for which they have been given responsibility, disciplinary measures will be taken, that could, ultimately, lead to termination of their contract of employment.”

I was becoming rather tense at this stage. It had been a long day; I was tired. I didn’t think straight. I just raised my hand, and blurted it out.

“Why do we need to bend the bananas?  Won’t they taste the same unbent?” 

This question was greeted with stunned, unbelieving silence.

… and then security escorted me off the premises.

Michael Smith

Image by pony xie from Pixabay – A big yellow banana