This choice: ...a dull remote control. • Go Back...Chapter #6...a dull remote control. by: Unknown Everyone watched in confused silence as he rummaged around in the very unfeminine rucksack he'd brought with him for whatever it was that seemed to have excited him so much. A few drops of sweat trickled from a few bros as they all waited for the big reveal. What actually came out was less than exciting. It could only be described as a small, unassuming device, bulky and rectangular but only as large as a stapler, with cheap tin on the outside and a dull silver array on its side.
"Is that it?" Ryan shouted from the back. A few sniggers spread around the employees.
Michael huffed and rolled his eyes, deviating from his peppy, upbeat demeanour to show a rare moment of frustration. "This," he said, holding the device in the air triumphantly like a door-to-door salesman giving his pitch, "Is the Pocket Swapping Companion, or the PSC for short. Though there’s only this prototype in circulation for now, we hope to have dozens more, if the scheme put in place for the Rotherham branch succeeds, for each branch of Wilko across the whole country."
"But what does it do?" Rose asked.
"Another great question! Wow, being manager's going to be a cinch with you guys!" None of the group responded to the awkwardly slotted in flattery, not even a simple groan. Michael cleared his throat. "Wow, tough crowd. Anyways, the PSC was made with the intention of improving employee morale by allowing you all to replace one of your undesirable traits with one from one of your fellow coworkers, effectively swapping something with one of your work-buddies! One zap and boom! A whole new you! Isn't that exciting!"
Without warning, murmurs began to spread across the room like wildfire, increasing in volume and intensity as the employees within laughed off the absurd idea before begining to wonder whether the statement was truly valid. Swaps? Replacing undesirable traits? Surely he was joking.
Michael strutted back towards his bag, clacking his heels on the floor with a near flawless practice of precision, and pulled out a small box with a single slit in its top face as well as a great big stack of paper and a pack filled with pens. He came back and set them down before Emma. “Emma, would you mind giving these out for me, please?" Michael cooed, nodding his head in the direction of the employees.
Emma fought the urge to lash at out stirring within her. "Not at all, Boss," she spat sarcastically as she snatched the box from his dainty hands and started distributing the material across the rows. Her sarcasm seemed to be lost on Michael though as he stood upright and clapped his hands gleefully.
“Ok!” he chirped. "The rules are simple; you all get a slip of paper and a pen. These are here to record whatever you want to trade with someone else. But be warned; all swaps done are irreversible. Ergo if you, say, swapped hair colours with one of your mates sitting here today, you wouldn't be able to retain your natural hair from your swapped counterpart. You may trade with someone else later for a similar colour later, but be warned; any swaps done are locked for a minimum twenty-four hours. If you suddenly get cold feet don't expect a trade back until we reconvene this afternoon for initial assessments and more suggestions."
"That's bullsh*t." Michael heard someone say under their breath. He scowled and surveyed the room. The assessed staff became unmoving, stiff as stone, as he searched for the culprit. Having Gemma’s condescending glare just aided the sense of intimidation gripping each of their hearts.
“Would whoever said that like to repeat themselves, louder this time?”
A moment passed. Suddenly Liam burst upwards from his chair. “Sorry but I can't take this sci-fi crap any longer. I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm going back to work." He threw his hands into the air as he shimmied past Allie and Natalie to get out. Soon there were other rumblings from the rest of the staff, with some of the other sceptics stretching their legs and preparing to follow him.
"No!" The followers suddenly got jelly legs and flopped back into their seats. Liam turned round in fear. He gulped as Michael stared a hole straight into the back of his head. “None of you are allowed to leave until after our first round of exchanges. New company policy, officially enacted right now by me. Failure to stay for the entirety of this meeting will result in a black mark on your disciplinary record and a fine of one week's pay."
"So what? I'm not allowed to try to work anymore?" Liam chuckled awkwardly to little response.
Liam’s legs nearly collapsed as Michael quickly closed the gap between them. He shivered as Michael placed a manicured finger on his shoulder and effeminately brushed his blonde hair out his eyes. "Maybe I wasn't clear enough, Liam." she purred, a subtle menace laced within her voice. "Y'know, I did all of my research on all the personnel within this branch before I came down to introduce myself to you all. I've especially heard a lot about you, Liam. Lazy, uncooperative, problematic with any and all constituted authority. Mutually despised by your coworkers."
Liam pshawed. “That’s not true, right guys?” Silence. “Is it?”
Michael leaned his head onto Liam’s shoulder, waving his hand around to prove his point as he continued, "In fact, it's only a miracle that Emma saw enough use in you to keep you on Wilko's books. Well I'll be the first one to get this out of the way and tell you that I won't make the same mistake as my predecessor. I have no loyalty to you and I don't care how much you'd plead and cry for your job. Let me tell you nice and clear so you can get it through your thick skull right now and not misconstrue any of the words I say; you are expendable. I could pick up anyone strutting down the street right now and offer them your place. It'd probably be less hassle if I’m being honest.”
"So when I tell you that nobody leaves here without me saying, I mean it. Understand?" Liam nodded in terror. Michael giggled eerily as Liam rushed back into us seat. Michael stretched his gloss lips into a smile once more, its reoccurrence seeming more menacing than it had before, and playfully drummed his fingers in the air. "Glad we're on the same page now, guys!"
"Now, chop chop, ideas into the box! I can't wait to see what you guys suggest!"
  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024. All rights reserved.
Adeptus Astartes has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
