It was already 10am when Tyler Jordan walked into the warehouse at 1010 Timberline Lane. He was drunk again. Of course no one had any idea that was drunk and he was pretty sure even if they did know, they wouldn’t care.
Things looked to be busier than normal which struck him as a bit unusual. Tuesdays were an off shipment day but judging by the amount of people currently milling about he thought maybe he’d missed a memo or something.
Bobby Brigsbey looked up from a large wooden shipping crate on the concrete floor about 50 feet away. Keep walking. Just don’t make eye contact.
“Tyler! Hey Tyler” Shit! Too late!
Bobby struggled briefly to get to his feet; almost tumbling over as his oversize pant leg caught beneath his shoe. He’s like Chris Farley from Saturday night live! Tyler sighed, stopped walking and waited. There was ‘no getting away from Bobby’! Wasn’t that what he always said? If he wanted your attention he was going to get it one way or another.
Bobby, out of breath looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Swollen purple sandbags hung below his squinted eyes which seemed to be almost pleading for help. He’d gotten within a few feet of Tyler and decided that he had enough and leaned against a concrete support. After a few deep exasperated inhales Bobby finally got on with what he had to say.
“Tony’s out.” The words stung and Tyler sighed. This wasn’t the only bad news though.
"So are Nick, Cedric and Navid.”
Bobby paused searching for words that would perhaps cushion the blow "We’re sending out 20 units today …”
Tyler interrupted him. “Did you say 20 units?” his head throbbed and he wasn’t so sure if it was from the alcohol. That number had to be some kind of mistake. 20 units? On a Tuesday? Bullshit. The most they’d ever sent out in a single day was 6 units and that was with a full crew. He regretted coming in at all. Tuesdays are easy. The words came back into his head. Just sleep at your desk again.
“Need you on install” Bobby said meekly. Sonofabitch!!
Sensing Tyler’s displeasure with this news Bobby feigned an apology and hobbled away.
When he arrived at his desk he was surprised to see that someone had already left him a gift. On the far side of the wall to his left was a table which he filled with crap he really didn’t have any idea what to do with. On it now sat 4 small boxes stacked on top of one another. The top box was opened and he looked inside.
It was obvious that whomever had put this together was in a rush. On top there were printed instructions of some sort which he put to the side. Below that in a clear sealed bag was a tiny flash drive.
His office was surrounded by windows that looked out into the warehouse. A bustle of activity today! Wonderful.
Ahead of him he saw two men wheeling one of those wooden crates towards the office. He put the bag containing the flash drive onto his desk and went out to meet them. The two men were wearing white lab coats, white pants and white shoes. The people down in the warehouse referred to these people as “The suits” and they creeped him out.
Neither of them had name tags but it didn’t matter because neither of them would be talking. There was a running joke that these people were mutes, or deaf. Back in January Tommy Noonan had even bet him 150 bucks that he could get one of them to talk by the end of the summer. He never did pay up but Tyler really didn’t expect him to. It was a fools bet.
“Morning gentleman” They’d gotten as far as the other side of his office but ignored him and continued wheeling their payload past him. “Okay! Guess we’re walking” They walked slowly, Tyler in front with the steersman. This was good because he wasn’t in any rush.
“You guys have a good weekend?” Neither answered nor seemed to acknowledge he’d said anything. “Yeah I’m pretty drunk too. Got any crack cocaine?” Nothing.
They unloaded the crate which was roughly 7 feet in length on the floor of his office. The last 2 feet extended through his door into the warehouse. The man who’d been pushing the load handed over a tablet which glowed brightly. He tapped on the Cyborg Inc. logo, entered his password and then scanned his thumb after it prompted him to do so. After signing the bottom of the screen with his finger he handed it back to the man. The two of them seemed to approve and promptly left. He tried pushing the crate further into his office so he could shut the door but it was no use. His desk was blocking it from going any further. Sighing rather loudly he took 4 advil.
He’d had worse hangovers sure. Knowing the amount of work ahead of him though seemed to make this one a bit worse. He drew the blinds and eased his way into the chair promptly falling asleep. It was a short nap though. He only awoke because he heard the screams and when he drew the blinds he saw Bobby Brigsby running towards him- on fire.
Things looked to be busier than normal which struck him as a bit unusual. Tuesdays were an off shipment day but judging by the amount of people currently milling about he thought maybe he’d missed a memo or something.
Bobby Brigsbey looked up from a large wooden shipping crate on the concrete floor about 50 feet away. Keep walking. Just don’t make eye contact.
“Tyler! Hey Tyler” Shit! Too late!
Bobby struggled briefly to get to his feet; almost tumbling over as his oversize pant leg caught beneath his shoe. He’s like Chris Farley from Saturday night live! Tyler sighed, stopped walking and waited. There was ‘no getting away from Bobby’! Wasn’t that what he always said? If he wanted your attention he was going to get it one way or another.
Bobby, out of breath looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Swollen purple sandbags hung below his squinted eyes which seemed to be almost pleading for help. He’d gotten within a few feet of Tyler and decided that he had enough and leaned against a concrete support. After a few deep exasperated inhales Bobby finally got on with what he had to say.
“Tony’s out.” The words stung and Tyler sighed. This wasn’t the only bad news though.
"So are Nick, Cedric and Navid.”
Bobby paused searching for words that would perhaps cushion the blow "We’re sending out 20 units today …”
Tyler interrupted him. “Did you say 20 units?” his head throbbed and he wasn’t so sure if it was from the alcohol. That number had to be some kind of mistake. 20 units? On a Tuesday? Bullshit. The most they’d ever sent out in a single day was 6 units and that was with a full crew. He regretted coming in at all. Tuesdays are easy. The words came back into his head. Just sleep at your desk again.
“Need you on install” Bobby said meekly. Sonofabitch!!
Sensing Tyler’s displeasure with this news Bobby feigned an apology and hobbled away.
When he arrived at his desk he was surprised to see that someone had already left him a gift. On the far side of the wall to his left was a table which he filled with crap he really didn’t have any idea what to do with. On it now sat 4 small boxes stacked on top of one another. The top box was opened and he looked inside.
It was obvious that whomever had put this together was in a rush. On top there were printed instructions of some sort which he put to the side. Below that in a clear sealed bag was a tiny flash drive.
His office was surrounded by windows that looked out into the warehouse. A bustle of activity today! Wonderful.
Ahead of him he saw two men wheeling one of those wooden crates towards the office. He put the bag containing the flash drive onto his desk and went out to meet them. The two men were wearing white lab coats, white pants and white shoes. The people down in the warehouse referred to these people as “The suits” and they creeped him out.
Neither of them had name tags but it didn’t matter because neither of them would be talking. There was a running joke that these people were mutes, or deaf. Back in January Tommy Noonan had even bet him 150 bucks that he could get one of them to talk by the end of the summer. He never did pay up but Tyler really didn’t expect him to. It was a fools bet.
“Morning gentleman” They’d gotten as far as the other side of his office but ignored him and continued wheeling their payload past him. “Okay! Guess we’re walking” They walked slowly, Tyler in front with the steersman. This was good because he wasn’t in any rush.
“You guys have a good weekend?” Neither answered nor seemed to acknowledge he’d said anything. “Yeah I’m pretty drunk too. Got any crack cocaine?” Nothing.
They unloaded the crate which was roughly 7 feet in length on the floor of his office. The last 2 feet extended through his door into the warehouse. The man who’d been pushing the load handed over a tablet which glowed brightly. He tapped on the Cyborg Inc. logo, entered his password and then scanned his thumb after it prompted him to do so. After signing the bottom of the screen with his finger he handed it back to the man. The two of them seemed to approve and promptly left. He tried pushing the crate further into his office so he could shut the door but it was no use. His desk was blocking it from going any further. Sighing rather loudly he took 4 advil.
He’d had worse hangovers sure. Knowing the amount of work ahead of him though seemed to make this one a bit worse. He drew the blinds and eased his way into the chair promptly falling asleep. It was a short nap though. He only awoke because he heard the screams and when he drew the blinds he saw Bobby Brigsby running towards him- on fire.