A corporate lawyer has made his fortune fighting worker regulations in Boston, breaking up union strikes in Sri Lanka, and sending Pinkertons to crack tree hugger heads in the rain-forest.
One day though he steps through the wrong, ethereal door and finds himself in the body of one of those he had fought, facing down the corporate guns.
[Twilight Zone Music Plays] -- Anon Guest
Presented for your approval, James Worpyington-Smythe III, council for the corporate persons and their rights to pursue profit. The little people are merely grist for the grinding gears of progress.
Employees got enough of a wage to eke out a living. If they dared fall sick, the could not afford James' services regarding their allegedly wrongful dismissal. Corporations, on the other hand, did not possess messy and unreliable biological processes, could not fall sick. Further, they had nearly bottomless pockets. It was clear which side James preferred to take. Under his direction, armed forces with similar motivations removed the "organic obstacles" to the multi-million-dollar greater good.
The only downside was that he was sometimes ordered to supervise the proceedings.
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