Friday, October 4, 2013

Frightening Friday: A Terrifying Work Environment and the People Who Suffered From It

He does not want to go to work either.

You know what really scares me? I'm asking that question because OH MY GOD YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT TODAY IS? It's the first Friday in October. Did you guess that this is the first Friday of Frightening Fridays, because it is? Are you excited? I'm excited. I'm so excited that I actually just jumped for joy and fell down a flight of stairs. I'm writing this from the bottom of it whilst waiting for an ambulance to arrive.

In case you're wondering, the answer to my first question is "falling down a flight of stairs." But now that I've done it, I'm realizing it's not actually that bad, aside from the dislocated shoulder, two broken ribs, and gathering pool of blood. This means I won't have to go to work for at least five hours.

Which reminds me that I still need to tell you today's terrifying tale, which is all about having a terrible job. And maybe you're saying right now, "That doesn't sound so terrifying," but it's also possible that your job involves feeding marshmallows to a herd of baby goats, or perhaps you are a pillow tester for Puffy's Pillow Emporium. Naturally, you're going to enjoy your work. But trust me when I say that the job in this story will give you nightmares until at least the next pay cycle. It's called...

A Terrifying Work Environment and the People Who Suffered From It  

It was a dark and stormy copy machine. Dark because it was covered with layers of ancient coal dust and stormy because no one could find a better way to describe the way that the machine sometimes electrocuted people.

But that is not the most terrifying part of the story.

The president of the company at which our story takes place hated spending money and had purchased the copy machine from a mining company that was no longer in business for reasons that involve a mining company exploding. The copy machine had cost him zero cents. All he had to do was get rid of the family of raccoons that had been living in it and refill the toner. Some people might argue that nothing is scarier than a company president who won't spend money on things. Not a deadly copy machine. Not a clown-werewolf hybrid. And definitely not a company president who will spend money on things but has fingers where his eyes should be.

But that's still not the most terrifying part of the story.

Every day, the company president who didn't believe in spending money on things, especially copy machines that didn't electrocute people, would change his mind. Now, some company presidents change their minds every day: about what tie to wear, whether or not to put raisins in their breakfast oatmeal, or which fancy car to drive to the office. But this company president changed his mind about what his company actually did. An employee might leave work one night a taxidermist and arrive the next morning to become a painter of frescoes. He might start the week selling insurance, spend Wednesday learning how to be a chemist, and finish the week as an underwear model. It all depended on the economy and what was profitable on any given day. At the end of each day, the company president would call his teenage daughters and say, "What's popular on the Twitter today?" And they would tell him. The next morning, when everyone arrived for work at 4:55 AM, he would announce what they would be doing that day. That was how the company spent a very confused and unprofitable day recently as a twerk factory.

But, no, that's not the most terrifying part of the story. Not even that.

The company was haunted. Like, really haunted.

But not by ghosts. By listless, burned out employees who wandered around saying things like, "Is it Friday yet?" and chewing on stale bagels from the day the company was a kosher bakery. They all had dark circles under their eyes and downtrodden expressions from having to learn how to be heart surgeons one time. They lived in fear of the copy machine that electrocuted people and the office toilet that was just a room with a bucket in it and the supply closet that only had broken pencils in it and paperclips the company president had made himself from old electrical wire.

But no. Still not the scariest part.

The employees were not allowed to eat at their desks because of the vermin problem. Even on the day all of the employees were exterminators. And it wasn't just cockroaches and mice. There were cobras and vampire bats and chupacabra. And a religious suicide cult that had started a commune in the elevator. Nowhere you went was safe.

"I guess we should do something about the vermin," the company president said one day. So he made everyone in the company interior decorators and they wallpapered over everything: the mice, the cockroaches, the cobras, the bats, and even chupacabra. Fortunately, the suicide cult just had to be hauled out to the dumpster by then.

And even that is not the most terrifying part of the story. I guess I should tell you the scariest part now before you get bored.


I know. I was scared too. That is why I will end the story here and not tell you the part about the day a mysterious parasite came to Earth and slowly used mind control to take over the company and all its employees. And then nobody noticed for ten years because the employees always acted dead-eyed and listless.

But I can't tell you that part because it's not the most terrifying part of the story. Just know that some heroic guys arrived and harnessed the electrical power of the copy machine to kill all the mind controlling parasites and everyone was saved.

The end.

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