09-30-2013, 01:36 AM
"Right."
"You got this."
"Just don't forget the rules."
"One: Smile. Two: Don't mess up. Three: Be cool."
"Man, I'm feeling better already. You're one hell of a guy, Hekley."
The Goblin strode through the room - being his bathroom, it hardly provided much room for pacing, but he made do as he picked his teeth with a length of thin bone. Despite his postulating in front of his toilet, he felt it was best to make himself as presentable as possible. After all, this could very well be his big day - it's not often you get called to the big office.
"Let's try the smile again. There we go."
Well, the medium-sized office. The size of his boss's office wasn't important, it was the size of the Goblin in it. Admittedly, neither the room nor his boss were particularly large, but his boss had a big role - that's what really matters. Brambik Clutchdagger was Hekley's ticket to a comfier position - and he didn't intend on getting on the wrong side of one of the Undermine's most successful arena magnates. That's not to say he wasn't comfortable in his incumbent position...
"C'mon, that's not a calm face. Aw, for ... C'mon --- again. Yeah, that's better."
... But he had his little desires, like everyone. He was luckier than most, his job as an adjudicator at the Steamwheedle DECAPATORIUM-O-RAMA wasn't so glamorous - obscenely long hours, having to put yourself in harm's way with god-knows what (they outlawed Doomguards in single combat years back, but he'd heard the stories), and the tourists. Oh, the stupid, irritating, asinine tourists. But it wasn't for nothin' - looking around his place, he was proud. His place was on the third level of the Undermine's Deni-zone - the lower you get, the more disturbing the sewage systems get, and the higher you are the more likely you are to get lava leaking in. As far as he concerned, he had it good.
"Okay, we'll stick with that. That's good, pal. Keep to the plan."
Good's good and all, but great's more good than good. For Hekley, it wasn't so much a matter of ambition as job security - he'd work this job for the rest of his life if he had to, but if you have a chance, why not go for it?
He thought that to himself as he slammed the door to his home and briskly made his way.
The medium-sized office of Mr. Clutchdagger was opulent. Made sense, since arenas were big business. He wasn't so much focused on the ornamentals as he stepped in. First step of the plan - make sure your entry's nice. Make eye contact as soon as possible to seem confident. Unfortunately, he couldn't quite find his boss. Why was the desk empty? He scanned across it as he took a step in, the milliseconds agonisingly long. He counted four awards, an empty highback chair - backed with Zhevra hide - and the Goblin's monolithic desk.
"Take a seat, Hekler."
His eyes flit over. Brambik was standing by the window facing the arena itself, on the other side of the room. That crafty bastard. His plans beginning to unfurl before his eyes, he walked briskly - but not too briskly - to a stool and sat down. He was hardly much higher sitting than standing, barely able to see over the desk. Brambik had no such issues as he waddled over, sitting in the chair - gaining at least two feet over Hekley.
"You're early. I like that, Hekler. Early people can be counted on. Actually, that's why I asked you here. Do you know why I've asked you here?"
"I, uh, I certainly don't, sir."
"Good. I hate industrial espionage. Do you know much about our 'exotic animals' line we run at the Death-A-Thon-1100?"
"Yeah, I've --- Worked with it a lot."
"As your employment file shows - which is the reason I've asked you here. That particular line is doing poorly, Hekler."
"Uh... I don't know why that is, boss. We even get Orcs coming for that one."
"I'm reasonably sure it wasn't your failure that caused this. No - it brings hundreds of consumers, but it's very hard to offset the money we're hemorrhaging to bring those animals here. Ever since Kajaro popped, the shipping lanes have been so congested. So, I've got an idea. Know what that idea is?"
"We're going to close the line, boss?"
"No. We're going to move the line to its source. Why move the animals when we can move the customers?"
"That's genius, boss."
"And you'll be the Head Adjudicator there, Hekler. I've already got the boat waiting for you. I've written up a job-specific writ of occupational responsibilities for you, which I expect you to read if you want to keep the job."
"I'm honored you think I can do it. I'll serve to the best of m---
"Good. Be ready to board the boat in the next couple of hours. Don't make me regret this."
He walked out of the office, carefully closed the door and then slumped down next to it. Wiping a pool of sweat from his brow, tucking his dress-shirt back in and easing his neck muscles, he thought that was one of the easiest promotions he'd got in his life.
Luckily, he didn't have many possessions to take with him. The way he saw it - if you needed to buy something to have fun, it's not really fun. He tended to break that adage thrice weekly when it came to his spirits, but that was different. Packing three bottles of Wildberry-infused wine on top of the essentials (like his uniform, toothpick and enough food to make the journey (in case something went wrong with catering), he was ready in just a little under two hours.
The vessel he'd take from the Undermine's docks - the largest in Azeroth - was rocket powered. Well, it was a rocket with a bit of a boat sticking out the end, more appropriately. Apparently they were going to take a stopover in Ratchet to refuel it, then smooth sailing to Gadgetzan's docks.
He didn't know much geography, but he was pretty sure Tanaris was the place where Kodo-beasts come from. Talk about a pushover of a job.
"You got this."
"Just don't forget the rules."
"One: Smile. Two: Don't mess up. Three: Be cool."
"Man, I'm feeling better already. You're one hell of a guy, Hekley."
The Goblin strode through the room - being his bathroom, it hardly provided much room for pacing, but he made do as he picked his teeth with a length of thin bone. Despite his postulating in front of his toilet, he felt it was best to make himself as presentable as possible. After all, this could very well be his big day - it's not often you get called to the big office.
"Let's try the smile again. There we go."
Well, the medium-sized office. The size of his boss's office wasn't important, it was the size of the Goblin in it. Admittedly, neither the room nor his boss were particularly large, but his boss had a big role - that's what really matters. Brambik Clutchdagger was Hekley's ticket to a comfier position - and he didn't intend on getting on the wrong side of one of the Undermine's most successful arena magnates. That's not to say he wasn't comfortable in his incumbent position...
"C'mon, that's not a calm face. Aw, for ... C'mon --- again. Yeah, that's better."
... But he had his little desires, like everyone. He was luckier than most, his job as an adjudicator at the Steamwheedle DECAPATORIUM-O-RAMA wasn't so glamorous - obscenely long hours, having to put yourself in harm's way with god-knows what (they outlawed Doomguards in single combat years back, but he'd heard the stories), and the tourists. Oh, the stupid, irritating, asinine tourists. But it wasn't for nothin' - looking around his place, he was proud. His place was on the third level of the Undermine's Deni-zone - the lower you get, the more disturbing the sewage systems get, and the higher you are the more likely you are to get lava leaking in. As far as he concerned, he had it good.
"Okay, we'll stick with that. That's good, pal. Keep to the plan."
Good's good and all, but great's more good than good. For Hekley, it wasn't so much a matter of ambition as job security - he'd work this job for the rest of his life if he had to, but if you have a chance, why not go for it?
He thought that to himself as he slammed the door to his home and briskly made his way.
The medium-sized office of Mr. Clutchdagger was opulent. Made sense, since arenas were big business. He wasn't so much focused on the ornamentals as he stepped in. First step of the plan - make sure your entry's nice. Make eye contact as soon as possible to seem confident. Unfortunately, he couldn't quite find his boss. Why was the desk empty? He scanned across it as he took a step in, the milliseconds agonisingly long. He counted four awards, an empty highback chair - backed with Zhevra hide - and the Goblin's monolithic desk.
"Take a seat, Hekler."
His eyes flit over. Brambik was standing by the window facing the arena itself, on the other side of the room. That crafty bastard. His plans beginning to unfurl before his eyes, he walked briskly - but not too briskly - to a stool and sat down. He was hardly much higher sitting than standing, barely able to see over the desk. Brambik had no such issues as he waddled over, sitting in the chair - gaining at least two feet over Hekley.
"You're early. I like that, Hekler. Early people can be counted on. Actually, that's why I asked you here. Do you know why I've asked you here?"
"I, uh, I certainly don't, sir."
"Good. I hate industrial espionage. Do you know much about our 'exotic animals' line we run at the Death-A-Thon-1100?"
"Yeah, I've --- Worked with it a lot."
"As your employment file shows - which is the reason I've asked you here. That particular line is doing poorly, Hekler."
"Uh... I don't know why that is, boss. We even get Orcs coming for that one."
"I'm reasonably sure it wasn't your failure that caused this. No - it brings hundreds of consumers, but it's very hard to offset the money we're hemorrhaging to bring those animals here. Ever since Kajaro popped, the shipping lanes have been so congested. So, I've got an idea. Know what that idea is?"
"We're going to close the line, boss?"
"No. We're going to move the line to its source. Why move the animals when we can move the customers?"
"That's genius, boss."
"And you'll be the Head Adjudicator there, Hekler. I've already got the boat waiting for you. I've written up a job-specific writ of occupational responsibilities for you, which I expect you to read if you want to keep the job."
"I'm honored you think I can do it. I'll serve to the best of m---
"Good. Be ready to board the boat in the next couple of hours. Don't make me regret this."
He walked out of the office, carefully closed the door and then slumped down next to it. Wiping a pool of sweat from his brow, tucking his dress-shirt back in and easing his neck muscles, he thought that was one of the easiest promotions he'd got in his life.
Luckily, he didn't have many possessions to take with him. The way he saw it - if you needed to buy something to have fun, it's not really fun. He tended to break that adage thrice weekly when it came to his spirits, but that was different. Packing three bottles of Wildberry-infused wine on top of the essentials (like his uniform, toothpick and enough food to make the journey (in case something went wrong with catering), he was ready in just a little under two hours.
The vessel he'd take from the Undermine's docks - the largest in Azeroth - was rocket powered. Well, it was a rocket with a bit of a boat sticking out the end, more appropriately. Apparently they were going to take a stopover in Ratchet to refuel it, then smooth sailing to Gadgetzan's docks.
He didn't know much geography, but he was pretty sure Tanaris was the place where Kodo-beasts come from. Talk about a pushover of a job.