I've got something to show you...
El Jefe sounded very chuffed as he tugged at my sleeve to get me up from my desk. His face was red and shiny with happiness which was at stark odds to the rest of the IT monkeys in my department who were being worked until they died of javascriptitis.
I raised a demonically handsome eyebrow at this Elephant Man who purported to be my boss. Didn't he know I had lots and lots of work to do? I mean, he fucking should, it was all his work that I was doing.
Come...Come!!
He exhorted at me like a fifteen-dollar hooker whose arm was tiring after the first two minutes of pumping the ham piston.
Alright, alright. Keep your hair on man.
I got up and followed El-Jefe, groaning inwardly as he lolloped toward the stairwell. That notorious place of dark deeds and vapes. A cleaner had run out screaming once when she found what looked to be a shit in a condom between the fourth and fifth floors.
Say what you want about the felons that worked in my place, they were fucking imaginative.
I caught the door before it slammed and roused the shouty ire of Sheena Ribena - a random manager of something who seemed to be paid solely to have a purple rage face and shout at anyone who crossed her path.
Slipping through the doorway I stopped abruptly before I ran into El-Jefe who was lurking on the landing waiting for me.
Idly, I wondered if he was going to pull out a condom and demonstrate how to shit in it.
Right, you know as well as anyone that there is a lot of grumbling about not getting a pay rise last year?
He barked questioningly at me as if I were a penguin and he optimistically had a haddock in his pocket.
He couldn't resist a little chuffle of delight as he followed up by prodding me with a finger that Thanos would be proud to own.
What, have you bought me out here to slip me an envelope with a couple of thousand bucks in it?
I perked up, I wasn't above a dirty bribe. As long as he didn't want me to get the Tutu out again.
An envelope? Oh. Ha. You mean like the Mafia? Badabing badabang.
He mimed gunning me down like a dog in the street.
Now it was my turn to chuffle as his attempt to mime a gunning made him look like a dwarf masturbating a man on a massage table.
Well, no. Not quite a brown envelope but... I am here to tell you that the management have been listening. They are aware of the complaints about pay and working conditions.
He paused for dramatic effect.
And I can tell you... They have acted.
He looked at me expectantly.
I looked back and tried not to make him explode through sheer mind power.
Come. I will show you.
He gamely tried to race up the next couple of flights of stairs but only managed two steps before his pendulous belly started threatening to break free of his shirt and start its own band called Loose Meat.
Eventually, with much huffing, he led me to the door that led to the East wing on the seventh floor.
Are you ready?
He placed his hand on the door handle to the office beyond and pushed it open.
TADA!
The office beyond the door appeared to have had all of its desks removed. In place were lots of colourful, circular rugs and beanbags.
It looked like a mash-up between a sex-room for Google employees and a nursery for psychotic children.
I made a boak noise.
Boss, what the fuck? We want more money. Not fucking beanbags?!
I waved the beanbags away as if they were tall skinny men trying to sell me sunglasses on an exotic beach.
There is no money. This is it. I tell you what though. You could have that blue one?
El-Jefe squeaked hopefully, pointing at a perky looking blue beanbag.
I tutted and turned to head back to my desk whilst it still existed.
For fuck sake, fucking beanbags!?
