That’s right. Freddie worked at the service charge factory.

And what tough work it was! A typical day would find Freddie slaving away on assembly line #4, attaching service charges to new tickets for bands like The Dirtbombs and Bowling For Soup. Freddie loved his job, for he understood that without service charges, the entire infrastructure of automated concert ticketing would crumble, and artists like Joan Baez and Jason Mraz would not be able to deliver tickets to all of their deserving fans. Without the fruit of Freddie’s toils there would be no Ticketmaster, TicketWeb or The entire concert industry would be in chaos.

Then came that fateful day, after a long, hard shift welding service charges onto tickets for Cher, James Cotton and Sheryl Crow, that an emergency call came down from upper management. They had a rush job. Sarah Brightman had just announced a new tour, and with many shows going on sale immediately, Freddie’s bosses needed the best service charge technicians to work overtime in order to insure that tickets for the angelic-sounding chartreuse would be ready for her faithful followers. However, all of Freddie’s coworkers had left the plant, and were already half-sloshed down at Rosen’s Roost, the after-hours watering hole where all service charge technicians went to lose the tension and drown the anxiety of working in the concert industry.

Of course Freddie covered for them, for he loved his coworkers almost as much as he loved his job. He spot-welded the service charges to each and every ticket. He even soldered the extra convenience fees that were standard for some venues. Plus, in a surge of adrenaline never seen before or since, he even found time to slap on local taxes and additional fees. Freddie was a hero!

Or so you would think. But Freddie forgot one important thing. He forgot to punch back into the time clock, meaning that he wouldn’t be credited for all the hard work he put in for Ms. Brightman. Furthermore, in their haste to seek alcoholic rejuvenation after assembling service charges for Chimaira, Blue and Los Straitjackets, all of his coworkers had forgotten to punch out, thereby receiving all the credit for Freddie’s labors. What’s more, in reward for all that hard work, management gave the workers brand new luxury cars. All the workers, that is, except Freddie.

Freddie was heartbroken! What’s worse, as Freddie drove his 1981 VW Rabbit to work, he gazed upon all the new luxury cars that now belonged to his coworkers. His heart seethed in rage and his anger grew.

Until one day when Freddie snapped, and brought his favorite toy to work with him – a McCulloch, top-of-the-line Pro-Mac power saw – just the thing for taking his anger out on management and inflicting his wrath upon his coworkers for taking credit for what he had done. He sawed the IS SportCross in half, he carved the LS a new rear hatch and he hacked at the LX until it was nothing but a very expensive pile of scrap metal. After which, the guys in the white suits arrived, shot Freddie with a tranquilizer gun, and carried him off to a place where he would never bother anyone again.

The moral of our story? It’s simple. Always remember to take credit for your own work, because if one does not toot one’s own horn, no one else will. Furthermore, always remember that your coworkers, if given half the chance, will always take credit for your sweat and struggle. In short, always remember to watch your back.

But most of all, always remember that dark, tragic day in the parking lot when Freddie’s hatred and rage took control and forced him to carve, chop and slice all those beautiful luxury automobiles. Always remember what happens when a good deed goes unrewarded. Always remember when good employees turn bad. Always remember Freddie.

But most important of all, always remember the Lexus chainsaw massacre.