![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
naughty-bangles.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: CSI2
Fandom: Original
Prompt #419 Splatter + On Friday, I become a starship salesperson from one of Seventh Sanctum's writing prompt generators
Rating: PG (I think)
Author: naughty_bangles
Status: 1/?
On Friday, I became a starship salesperson. I had been in and out of a job for so long it sounded like the opportunity of a lifetime. Hardly what I wanted to do as I grew up, but as long as it paid the bills, and didn't sound too dangerous, I was game.
So I became a starship salesperson. On Friday, I came to the main office building of Galactic Transportation Dreams, my new employer, and introduced myself and my situation to a young woman at the reception desk. She looked at me up and down, and told me with a bored expression to go to Human Ressources on the second floor. I thanked her for her help and let her go back to the 3D-screen on which she was watching some kind of horror flick. As I walked toward the elevators, I mused at the possibility of working as a receptionist if that job didn't work out. She didn't make it look an impossible job to do.
I took the elevator with three busy-looking persons in suits. They all supported a frown competing with one another, as if they were engaged in tacit challenge. I didn't dare speaking to any of them outside of requesting a push on the second floor knob from the one closest to the control panel. I was hoping they weren't salespersons themselves. I didn't want to join their little frown contest.
I was the only one to exit on the second floor. I stepped out in a nondescript corridor, with light grey walls and a carpet two or three tones darker. No sign indicating where was what, no indication whatsover next to the grey doors on each side of the corridor. Nobody to ask where were Human Ressources. I took a few steps, wondering what to do now. Should I keep walking, hoping to find the right office, or should I knock at one of the doors to ask for directions?
I opted for the first solution.
I took the right turn at the end of the corridor, the left one after that, and somehow, I ended up in front of the Human Ressources office, indicated by black plastic letters glued to the door, so small that you had to be already standing in front of them to be able to read them. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants and knocked on the door. A three-colored device flashed its yellow light, telling me to wait. I stood there for a good two minutes before the green spot lighted up, letting me inside.
I was greeted by a woman in her forties, her dynamic attitude enhanced by the striking blue hair she supported. It was a fine shade, turquoise with darker strands artistically scattered in between, the kind of color you only get through a good hairsalon. I wasn't about to get such a fantastic hairdo for myself.
"Payne, that's it?", she asked, gesturing for me to take a seat. "You're here for the salesperson position, right?"
"Yes, I am. I've been sent by Recruiting Unlimited", I replied, monitoring my voice to sound casual, but not too much, like my job consellor had trained me to do. I hated it.
"Right, right." She looked down at a file on her desk, and the glimpse of a picture I could catch indicated me it was a copy of my file at Recruiting Unlimited. "Well, everything's in order. Welcome to Galactic Transportation Dreams. Here's the handbook on the model you're gonna sell, the Configurable Short-range Intergalactic Investigator", she said, handing me a thick stack of papers bound together by a range of plastic rings. "And this -", she gave me a sticky post-it note she had just written on, "is the location of our main showroom. That's where you'll have to report every morning for your assigned missions. They're expecting you."
I sticked the post-it note on the first page of the handbook, and got up when I saw the HR woman doing so. She extended her hand above her desk, and I shook it.
"I wish you a profitable career with Galactic Transportation Dreams", she told me with a bright smile, and I barely had the time to thank her before I found myself outside of her office again.
All in all, it went well.
I glanced at the note still stuck on the handbook, deciphering her abrupt handwriting. Next stop, Tabernacle Grove.
Tabernacle Grove associated with trees only in its name. The place was a fully urbanized area located in the outskirt of the town, where countless top-100 firms had implanted offices and showrooms. Galactic Transportation Dreams owned a large open-aired piece of land, where were parked dozens of models of personal spaceships. What looked like nothing more than a little cabin stood next to the parking lot, and I figured it was my destination. The concrete floor under my feet, as I was walking to the building, was spotless, a miracle for an outdoor installation.
I passed an automatic glass double-door and entered an agreable waiting room complete with the same reception desk as the one in the main office building, and what looked like the same receptionist. She smiled brightly when I came in, ready to welcome a new customer.
"Welcome to Galactic Transportation Dreams. How may I help you?"
I walked to the desk and put my handbook down. "Good morning. I'm Payne. I'm here for the salesperson position." I tried to sound confident, but my introduction still came out halfway like a question.
Her bright smile dimmed a little. "Ah, yes, the salesperson. Heath will see you in a moment." She gestured toward the waiting room, and I took it as an invitation to sit down. I claimed the closest seat to the desk, and opened the handbook on my joined knees. I hadn't had the opportunity to read it yet, obviously, and now seemed a good time to start – as well as to convey my made-up motivation for the job.
The first few pages of elogious and partial descriptions of the CSI2 were quickly followed by technical diagramms of the model, using codes and terminologies I didn't understand. I wondered if I was expected to learn all this by heart and be able to explain. I wasn't an idiot, but those pages were aimed at engineers, not salespersons. On the other hand, if a client asked a question about the CSI2's specifications, wasn't I suppose to answer it? And, more important, how was I suppose to ask about what I had to know without sounding like a whiny unprofessional tourist?
I hadn't found any answer yet when a man, not much older than me, walked briskly into the waiting room, eyes set on me. No need to be Sherlock Holmes to guess it was Heath. I stood up and extended my hand.
"Heath, I'm Payne, the new saleperson."
He shook my hand once firmly. A quick look over told me he was probaby an adept of the "dress for the job you want, not the one you have" school of thought, and from his neat and expensive suit, I would say he was aiming for the top. If he was working to get a promotion in the near future, then I might obtain some advancement while they were at it. A better job, a better paycheck. I was all for it.
"I see you already got the handbook. Perfect. Everything you need to know about the CSI2 is in there." He started walking toward the main door, and I followed promptly. "I'll show you your product. Everyone here is in charge of a single model. Consider now the CSI2 as your baby."
I spoke my agreement, hoping it was a good model. My results were going to depend entirely of its success with the public, so it better be an awesome spaceship, or I would be out of a job faster than I thought.
We walked through the concrete floor, going past several personal ships before Heath stopped near a white and blue one-person vehicule. I recognized it immediately from the color pictures in the handbook.
"Here's the thing. This one is a demonstration model, for clients who would like to have a try. It's your responsibility to make sure it's safe and working at any time, and of course, that clients bring it back after the try-out. It's brand new, nobody has flown it yet. I suggest you try it today, to have a better idea of the functionalities. You'll start door-to-door tomorrow anyway. First half of the day, you're out demarching people, and the other, you're here, waiting for clients. One off-day per week, but you'll see this with Danika at the front desk. Do you have any question?"
He wasn't even looking at me, eyeing the ship proudly instead. I did too, willing to show my interest in my new "baby". The vehicule did look out of the factory, except for some brownish splatters down its body.
"Who should I call to have the hull cleaned up?", I asked then, pointing at the unwanted spots.
"Ah", Heath replied, his smile disappearing at the sight of dirt. "That's unfortunate. Like I said, casual maintenance is up to you. We only have a mechanic, and he's here only for the malfunctions. There are cleaning tools in the basement."
He gave a last look at the splatters and walked back to the office, leaving me with the ship. I sighed, not too enthusiast at the idea of beginning my new job with cleaning details. I had a hard time believing nobody had flown it before, not with dirt already smearing the otherwise shiny hull. I would wonder away later, though ; now was cleaning time.
Fandom: Original
Prompt #419 Splatter + On Friday, I become a starship salesperson from one of Seventh Sanctum's writing prompt generators
Rating: PG (I think)
Author: naughty_bangles
Status: 1/?
On Friday, I became a starship salesperson. I had been in and out of a job for so long it sounded like the opportunity of a lifetime. Hardly what I wanted to do as I grew up, but as long as it paid the bills, and didn't sound too dangerous, I was game.
So I became a starship salesperson. On Friday, I came to the main office building of Galactic Transportation Dreams, my new employer, and introduced myself and my situation to a young woman at the reception desk. She looked at me up and down, and told me with a bored expression to go to Human Ressources on the second floor. I thanked her for her help and let her go back to the 3D-screen on which she was watching some kind of horror flick. As I walked toward the elevators, I mused at the possibility of working as a receptionist if that job didn't work out. She didn't make it look an impossible job to do.
I took the elevator with three busy-looking persons in suits. They all supported a frown competing with one another, as if they were engaged in tacit challenge. I didn't dare speaking to any of them outside of requesting a push on the second floor knob from the one closest to the control panel. I was hoping they weren't salespersons themselves. I didn't want to join their little frown contest.
I was the only one to exit on the second floor. I stepped out in a nondescript corridor, with light grey walls and a carpet two or three tones darker. No sign indicating where was what, no indication whatsover next to the grey doors on each side of the corridor. Nobody to ask where were Human Ressources. I took a few steps, wondering what to do now. Should I keep walking, hoping to find the right office, or should I knock at one of the doors to ask for directions?
I opted for the first solution.
I took the right turn at the end of the corridor, the left one after that, and somehow, I ended up in front of the Human Ressources office, indicated by black plastic letters glued to the door, so small that you had to be already standing in front of them to be able to read them. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants and knocked on the door. A three-colored device flashed its yellow light, telling me to wait. I stood there for a good two minutes before the green spot lighted up, letting me inside.
I was greeted by a woman in her forties, her dynamic attitude enhanced by the striking blue hair she supported. It was a fine shade, turquoise with darker strands artistically scattered in between, the kind of color you only get through a good hairsalon. I wasn't about to get such a fantastic hairdo for myself.
"Payne, that's it?", she asked, gesturing for me to take a seat. "You're here for the salesperson position, right?"
"Yes, I am. I've been sent by Recruiting Unlimited", I replied, monitoring my voice to sound casual, but not too much, like my job consellor had trained me to do. I hated it.
"Right, right." She looked down at a file on her desk, and the glimpse of a picture I could catch indicated me it was a copy of my file at Recruiting Unlimited. "Well, everything's in order. Welcome to Galactic Transportation Dreams. Here's the handbook on the model you're gonna sell, the Configurable Short-range Intergalactic Investigator", she said, handing me a thick stack of papers bound together by a range of plastic rings. "And this -", she gave me a sticky post-it note she had just written on, "is the location of our main showroom. That's where you'll have to report every morning for your assigned missions. They're expecting you."
I sticked the post-it note on the first page of the handbook, and got up when I saw the HR woman doing so. She extended her hand above her desk, and I shook it.
"I wish you a profitable career with Galactic Transportation Dreams", she told me with a bright smile, and I barely had the time to thank her before I found myself outside of her office again.
All in all, it went well.
I glanced at the note still stuck on the handbook, deciphering her abrupt handwriting. Next stop, Tabernacle Grove.
Tabernacle Grove associated with trees only in its name. The place was a fully urbanized area located in the outskirt of the town, where countless top-100 firms had implanted offices and showrooms. Galactic Transportation Dreams owned a large open-aired piece of land, where were parked dozens of models of personal spaceships. What looked like nothing more than a little cabin stood next to the parking lot, and I figured it was my destination. The concrete floor under my feet, as I was walking to the building, was spotless, a miracle for an outdoor installation.
I passed an automatic glass double-door and entered an agreable waiting room complete with the same reception desk as the one in the main office building, and what looked like the same receptionist. She smiled brightly when I came in, ready to welcome a new customer.
"Welcome to Galactic Transportation Dreams. How may I help you?"
I walked to the desk and put my handbook down. "Good morning. I'm Payne. I'm here for the salesperson position." I tried to sound confident, but my introduction still came out halfway like a question.
Her bright smile dimmed a little. "Ah, yes, the salesperson. Heath will see you in a moment." She gestured toward the waiting room, and I took it as an invitation to sit down. I claimed the closest seat to the desk, and opened the handbook on my joined knees. I hadn't had the opportunity to read it yet, obviously, and now seemed a good time to start – as well as to convey my made-up motivation for the job.
The first few pages of elogious and partial descriptions of the CSI2 were quickly followed by technical diagramms of the model, using codes and terminologies I didn't understand. I wondered if I was expected to learn all this by heart and be able to explain. I wasn't an idiot, but those pages were aimed at engineers, not salespersons. On the other hand, if a client asked a question about the CSI2's specifications, wasn't I suppose to answer it? And, more important, how was I suppose to ask about what I had to know without sounding like a whiny unprofessional tourist?
I hadn't found any answer yet when a man, not much older than me, walked briskly into the waiting room, eyes set on me. No need to be Sherlock Holmes to guess it was Heath. I stood up and extended my hand.
"Heath, I'm Payne, the new saleperson."
He shook my hand once firmly. A quick look over told me he was probaby an adept of the "dress for the job you want, not the one you have" school of thought, and from his neat and expensive suit, I would say he was aiming for the top. If he was working to get a promotion in the near future, then I might obtain some advancement while they were at it. A better job, a better paycheck. I was all for it.
"I see you already got the handbook. Perfect. Everything you need to know about the CSI2 is in there." He started walking toward the main door, and I followed promptly. "I'll show you your product. Everyone here is in charge of a single model. Consider now the CSI2 as your baby."
I spoke my agreement, hoping it was a good model. My results were going to depend entirely of its success with the public, so it better be an awesome spaceship, or I would be out of a job faster than I thought.
We walked through the concrete floor, going past several personal ships before Heath stopped near a white and blue one-person vehicule. I recognized it immediately from the color pictures in the handbook.
"Here's the thing. This one is a demonstration model, for clients who would like to have a try. It's your responsibility to make sure it's safe and working at any time, and of course, that clients bring it back after the try-out. It's brand new, nobody has flown it yet. I suggest you try it today, to have a better idea of the functionalities. You'll start door-to-door tomorrow anyway. First half of the day, you're out demarching people, and the other, you're here, waiting for clients. One off-day per week, but you'll see this with Danika at the front desk. Do you have any question?"
He wasn't even looking at me, eyeing the ship proudly instead. I did too, willing to show my interest in my new "baby". The vehicule did look out of the factory, except for some brownish splatters down its body.
"Who should I call to have the hull cleaned up?", I asked then, pointing at the unwanted spots.
"Ah", Heath replied, his smile disappearing at the sight of dirt. "That's unfortunate. Like I said, casual maintenance is up to you. We only have a mechanic, and he's here only for the malfunctions. There are cleaning tools in the basement."
He gave a last look at the splatters and walked back to the office, leaving me with the ship. I sighed, not too enthusiast at the idea of beginning my new job with cleaning details. I had a hard time believing nobody had flown it before, not with dirt already smearing the otherwise shiny hull. I would wonder away later, though ; now was cleaning time.
