Monday: 1.53pmLets file that stuff. And then, lets just skim doing the first aid report.
Enjoying the mild intoxication and the feeling of digesting a good meal, you set to work solidly on your bloody nemesis: the filing [4]. You get it all done, and rather than a wave of satisfaction you just get a slight feeling of being glad you’re not doing that anymore. You feel more or less sober. You wonder if it’s still sunny out.
Success! Did some filing!
Task Assigned! Complete a first aid resource usage statement form!
Task Completed! Filed the rest of that data!
Failure Rating: 13.
Morale: -5
Find the boss, punch him face. You can't fire me, I quit!
Still running endlessly through the labyrinthine warrens of GenCorpolis, your anger builds further and further as you search ruthlessly for the boss, vowing on your honour to smite him in the face! However, you can’t find him [2]. Damn.
Fail! Should have got started typing by now!
Task Assigned! Minute a teleconference recording!
Task Assigned! Sign up for some fire training!
Failure Rating: 23.
Morale: 4.
Satoshi raised an eyebrow. First he says he can never thank me enough for saving his life and then yells at me? ...Whatever, guess I should go clean the room up anyway, that's kinda my fault. Then the toilets are my job, so... yeah. With a sigh, he returned to the presentation room with a pair of sanitary gloves to clean it up.
You head back to the scene of your earlier massacre and don your sanitary gloves. It’s a grim sight. Putting the various bits of pigeon you pick up into one of the new extra strength bin bags, you make reasonably steady progress, but your stomach churns [3]. You’re more than halfway through and the end is in sight, but you feel that sick that you perhaps you should sit down. You press on. God, the blood smears are awful.
You spray some GenCorp Bang over most of the walls and start scrubbing. You can’t get all of the stains off though, although you do an OK job. Perhaps no one will notice. Perhaps your janitorial pride won’t mess with you. You’ve got the toilets to do, after all.
Success! Cleaned Presentation Room Green Four 24!
Fail! Just not all that well.
Morale Drop! Too much blood!
Task Completed! De-pigeonificated Presentation Room Green Four 24!
Task Assigned! Unblock the overflowing toilet in Toilet Block H90!
Failure Rating: 14.
Morale: 6.
Despite being yelled at unfairly by his boss, a light came on in PTM's eyes. He'd finally get to cut don a tree! He found himself a cutting tool AND WENT TO WORK ON THAT PLANT! Any environmental protesters would be raged at and called "smelly hippy pansy tree-fondling elves!"
Rushing semi-naked to the Outdoors Janitorial Supply Depot with a glint in your eyes and a smile on your face, you quickly spot a PowerChainSaw. You giggle uncontrollably to yourself as you pick it up and rev it a bit to check it works. It sure does [5]. Strolling down to the offending tree whilst staring it in… where its eyes would be, if it had any, so it knows who’s the boss, you plant your feet firmly on the ground before it.
[insert extra large chainsaw sound here]
[insert maniacal cackling sound here]
[insert sound of large falling tree crashing to the ground here]
Victory! You smite [4] the fell tree whilst cursing its family and its family’s family. You curse it even in the tree afterlife! A young man in a tie dye t-shirt and wearing sandals walks past with a disapproving frown on his face; you rev your chainsaw in his direction. He flees in terror!
Morale Boost! Powder Woodcutter: Bad Treeslayer!
Morale Boost! Carrying a chainsaw!
Success! Felled the bad tree!
Task Completed! Cut down the bad tree!
Failure Rating: 14.
Morale: -4.
E-mail the access requesting user with a memo explaining the proper forms that will need to be filled out to have access granted. Then go out and fix the damn mouse! Bring a spare mouse just in case.
With a what you hope is silent chuckle, you email the user who can’t get on a computer explaining that she needs to fill in the proper forms to get access granted. You even helpfully attach them so she’s got no excuse for her miserable failure, and then mark the problem as resolved [5]. If only all your IT colleagues treated their coworkers’ problems with such alacrity and finesse! You then grab a spare mouse from the spares cupboard and make your way down to the lift to catch it up to Green Forty 93 Department A to fix this silly mouse problem, dancing slightly in the corridor as you go.
But disaster [1] strikes! About 6 floors up the lift breaks down! But you don’t even notice, because you’ve drunkenly curled up on the floor in the corner of the lift to take a nap.
Morale Boost! A pleasant rest!
Fail! At work!
Fail! Haven’t fixed the damn mouse yet!
Success! Resolved the access problem!
Task Completed! Resolved the access rights issue!
Task Assigned! Fix the damn mouse!
Failure Rating: 16.
Morale: 14
Warning! Your Morale is so high that you are beginning to look suspiciously happy! Or would if you were not asleep! Remember folks, we are here to work, not to have fun!Kicking of her shoes Tracy grabs them and runs to the closest bathroom. She cleans off her shoes, gargles some water, and then fashions a facemask out of toilet paper. Returning to the desk she glares at Gloria. "You know it's all your damn fault I threw up. That perfume smells like something that crawled out of a grave!" She then turns her attention to typing up the report that was requested of her.
Quickly removing your shoes you dash to the bathroom and clean them off. Gloria’s stench is in fact so virulent that you feel you should wash your mouth out for even having breathed the air around her – oh wait, actually you just threw up, and
that's why you need to wash out your mouth, but Gloria’s perfume is the thing that stays more strongly in your mind. You come back out of the bathroom with your head wrapped crudely in toilet paper, and when Gloria tries to mock you for it, you let her have what for, as your grandmother used to say.
"You know it's all your damn fault I threw up. That perfume smells like something that crawled out of a grave!"
Gloria takes offence.
“Oh you skinny bitch! Shut up! I… I… I… Gah! You’re always being bitchy to everyone here, and I hate your stupid horse face!”
It’s your turn to be offended, nay, horrified.
“Horse face!?! At least I’m not the SIZE of a horse! At least I don’t SMELL like something that just came out of a horse’s ass! At least I don’t LOOK like a horse’s ass! Arrg!”
Enpurpled with rage, Gloria leaps at you, arms flailing, and knocks you to the ground. She powerbombs you in the stomach and then tries to get you in a headlock with her weighty mass pinning you down. Oh sweet Jesus the stench in her armpits is soul destroying! With superhuman strength you manage to roll Gloria over, just as you start to vomit again! The pair of you roll about on the floor in the sick – she scratches your left cheek until it bleeds; you headbutt her so hard you break her oversized horse-ass of a nose.
She flies backwards against the Main Reception desk, smashing against one of the computers which slides in slow motion off the work surface and tumbles off onto Gloria’s foot, all but breaking it. She screams! Glass shards from the monitor shatter about the floor. Gloria reaches blindly about behind her back and pulls out the baseball bat that security tend to keep hidden there in case of troublesome employees [1].
Morale Boost! Smashed that cow’s nose!
Morale Drop! But she scratched your cheek up!
Morale Drop! There is sick on your clothes!
Fail! Fighting on GenCorp premises!
Fail! Haven’t got that report typed up yet!
Task Assigned! Type up the report!
Task Assigned! Assist reception!
Failure Rating: 16.
Morale: -1.
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Topic: Roll to Work at GenCorp! Tuesday: The End: A New CEO. (Read 65005 times)