Malco--The Cubicle Call

*tick, tick, tick, tick* Tom sat at his desk, staring aimlessly at the computer monitor, matching the rhythm of the clock with his ballpoint pen against his gray desk. Nothing but ringing phones and other average Joes complimented the noise of the office clock, which hung on the wall next to the “Number of Customers Served” board that hadn’t been updated in months. After a few seconds, the light on Tom’s phone flashed, and he picked up, ready to give the customer his “full” attention. “Thank you for calling Stockade, my name is T” is all Tom got to say before being interrupted by a stern voice. “Direct me to Management. I don’t have all day.” Tom, so very concerned by the man’s urgency, replied “Yes sir, of course. If you could just tell me your 10digit account number I could” “Do you know who this is? ” retorted the man, who continued, “Derek, Derek Bro c ade ? CEO of Stockade , the company you are currently employed under?” “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to” “Don’t be sorry. Just means I don’t call around enough. What’s your name kid?” “Tom. Tom Quest, sir.” he replied cautiously, worried not to speak out of tone. In a teasing voice, the other line repeated, “‘Tom Quest, sir’. Sir? How old do you think I am Tom? Matter of fact, don’t even think about answering that. Well, since we’ve already stalled my progress today, I might as well act like a good CEO and ask questions that make it seem like I care. How do you like working in my company Mr. Quest? Be honest.” Considering his options, Tom started and said, “The pay’s decent, the work environment is friendly and” again, cut off for the fourth time this conversation. “I said honest Tom. Honesty is the best policy. You know who said that? I did, just now. So go ahead.” “Well, to be honest Mr. Brocade, I hate working in the cubicles. I hate having to answer phone calls and being bossed around by the nation’s “top 1%” on how to manage their money and stocks, my boss’ breath always reeks of coffee and cigarettes, and Jared and Tritia from Financing are always in the cleaning closet ‘sleeping’” ranted Tom. “Whoa slow down there Questlove, I’m not your girlfriend and I definitely didn’t ask for your life story. But your complaints are taken into consideration. Now pay very close attention Tom. Were you following the news this past December?” asked Mr. Brocade. After a moment of thought, Tom did recall the news headlines going into the new year. “Yeah,” he thought to himself, “you bought out Ronald Grump and Grump Towers”. “ You acquired Grump Towers, I believe.” “Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Now listen here Mr.Quest. You have a name that sticks out to me, and a personality that seems semidecent other than the boohoos, which is more than I can ask for after dealing with these corporate chumps my whole life.” he said sarcastically. “ I was currently going to ask your boss about his personal favorites at the office, but I don’t think I have to. I’m going to make you an offer that any sane man that works in a cubicle would accept. And you will accept. Okie dokie?” “ Questlove? is this guy serious?” At any rate, Tom wasn’t sure if he was being pranked by the guys at the other branch again, or if this really was Derek Brocade. So, pretending to be a sane man that works in a cubicle, and going with the benefit of the doubt, he simply replied, “Okie dokie.” “Good,” Brocade said excitedly, “so here’s the job. Grump Towers is currently under renovation to become my personal man cave. I think I’ll call it the Bro tel. Get it? Hotel? Brocade? Nevermind. I need an assistant in managing all the busy work that comes with my nightlife, social life, and money life. And since you’ve taken my time, you are going to pay it back. Through “servitude” to a very wealthy man. By servitude I mean a better paying job. You’ll be working out of the top floor with me, and I could care less if you took breaks at the many beautiful night clubs and restaurants Mr. Grump has so kindly gone bankrupt from. So, let’s go on a “quest” together shall we, Mr. Quest?” Tom was confused, sweating, and oddly excited. He felt like he was about to become a Robin to Batman, C3PO to R2D2, or Donkey to Shrek. Still dumbfounded, all he could usher out was another, “Okie dokie”. “Awesome sauce. Now, about Jared and Tritia…” Mr. Brocade trailed off.