Sean had been waiting all morning for his 9 o’clock appointment with his boss. It wasn’t as frustrating as it seemed, at least he wasn’t doing any real work. Don’t think badly of Sean, he was hard working, but his job wasn’t going to save or kill anyone. Unless, of course, the large pile of accumulated files on his desk fell upon an unfortunate co-worker, and then in fact, he would have a killer job. Also, to Sean’s satisfaction, there was the new issue of National Geographic in the waiting room, which he was now avidly reading. Why his boss had a waiting room was one of life’s greatest mysteries since you never saw more than one person at a time in there.
Finally, a beautiful voice announced that Mr Sean Smith was to come in. Everyone knows that kind of voice, it’s the voice of a heavenly being. A tall gorgeous blonde who had only one skill: looking good. And she was a pro at it.
He went into Mr Anderson’s office. His boss was typing something on his computer and it took him a while before he invited Sean to have a seat.
‘What brings,’ his boss paused, looking at an apparently blank sheet of paper, ‘you here Mr Smith?’
‘Well, sir. I was hoping for a raise.’
‘Ohhh, a raise? And on what grounds?’ Mr Anderson leaned back on his chair.
Strangely, Sean hadn’t anticipated that question. He just thought of going in there and seeing if he could get a raise. After all, his boss should know his value, he thought.
‘I really haven’t thought about that, but since you ask, let me think for a minute or two,’ Sean said.
An awkward silence fell upon them. While one looked at his blank sheet of paper, the other moved his eyeballs from upper right to upper left, just like Sean had seen in the movies when someone was thinking really hard to come up with an idea. Sean broke the silence with a triumphant, but very low:
‘Aha! Mrs Gordon got a raise last month and she only archives files.’
‘Oh, but Mrs Gordon has been working here for…’ now it was Mr Anderson’s turn to move his eyeballs from left to right. ‘Well, she was working here before I got here.’ And he made a full turn in his chair. If there was anything that Mr Anderson liked, it was giving his premium office chair a nice spin avery now and then.
‘But aren’t you one of the co-founders? I thought you were, since your name is in the company’s name and all.’
‘Indeed I am,’ smiled Mr Anderson proudly.
Another small awkward silence. This time interrupted by Mr Anderson clearing his throat and continuing. ‘Mrs Gordon has worked here for a long time and we like to reward our old employees.’
‘Old? She looks like she’s a thousand years old, and she only archives files and gets rewarded for that?’
‘Yes, without her, well you know…’ apparently another spin of his chair broke Mr Anderson’s chain of thought, since he didn’t finish his sentence.
‘Know what?’ Sean asked.
‘Our company might crumble to dust,’ he replied in a very serious and ominous tone.
‘She might crumble to dust! Seriously Mr Anderson.’ Sean approached him a little bit, as if telling a secret. ‘Sometimes I see Death, with the black cape, scythe and all, peeking at her from behind a far cubicle, waiting for her to die.’
‘Oh, that’s just Ben from Marketing.’
‘But it’s not like she even archives correctly.’
‘Well, you know…’ again he paused and again another spin of the chair.
‘Know what?’
‘She’s old, Mr Smith. We must give her a break. We must be humane.’
That awkward silence fell for the last time during that conversation, until it was fended off by Sean.
‘So, about that raise?’
‘No, I’m sorry Mr Smith. Perhaps when you’re older in this company. Let’s say 2053, Mr Smith?’ Mr Anderson grinned, showing his dentist’s white teeth under his moustache. Sean left his boss’s office rather angry and sad, but also wondering how much would the company would pay if his paperwork fell, accidently of course, on top of him. Eventually that thought left his mind, mostly thanks to a good afternoon of not working and beating the hell out of pigs with flying angry birds. Not that he was violent towards animals, or people for that matter.
That night, while sitting on the sofa with his girlfriend Karen, Sean had the greatest idea an employee could ever have. Or later, like his friend Mike would say, the stupidest idea ever.
‘I need you to photoshop some stuff for me Ker.’ Karen, or Ker as Sean liked to call her, sighed profoundly as she listened to his explanation. Like so many times before.
While she was on her Mac, probably going to pull an all-nighter, or at the very least a half-nighter, for her boyfriend, Sean was on the phone with his friend Mike from the IT department.
‘Hey, I had this brilliant idea, Mike. You’re going to love it,’ said Sean.
‘Ohhh, boy. Can’t wait for it,’ mumbled Mike in the middle of a yawn.
‘Were you sleeping?’ asked Sean, looking at his watch.
‘It’s ten p.m.! What do you think?’ said a sleepy and grumpy Mike.
‘We’ve talked about this Mike. No self-respecting human being would ever go to sleep that early.’
‘Yes, we have. We’ve talked this over a thousand times and I always say: no intelligent human being would ever invent the snooze button, or concept for that matter. But we digress. What’s your idea, Sean?’
‘Here’s the deal.’ And after a six minute monologue from Sean, Mike replied.
‘That’s the most stupid idea ever.’
‘Yes! I know, brilliant, isn’t it?’
Even later that night, so late, that Mike thought that kind of late was just theoretical (it was 4:45 am), they were on the premises of their company’s building, wearing what were apparently two cheap ninja costumes.
‘So, what we need to do Mike is: climb up that tree, reach the second floor, cut the window with the diamond tip pen and move from there,’ said a very confident Sean.
‘Why can’t we just enter through the front door? We both know the access code.’ In fact every other person within a mile radius of the building knew the access code. It was the famous one-two-three-four code that comes with that lock.
‘Well, where would all the fun be in breaking in if we were just to enter in? No, no! We must do this properly,’ said Sean.
‘Ahh, yes, where would all the fun be in trying to avoid physical damage, from let’s say…’ Mike paused while he observed his surroundings, ‘falling down from the tree?’
‘Oh, shut up, Mike. You’re taller than me, you could probably reach the second floor without the tree.’
‘Very funny Sean. Tall people’s jokes. Haha.’ replied a slightly angry (similar to the birds Sean likes to throw) and even sleepier Mike.
Eventually they decided to just go through the front door, since the window that they cut led to a storage room that was locked from the outside. They made their way into their boss’s office in a very cinematographic way; jumping, diving under the cover of a desk, running and sneaking, all to avoid, what apparently was not missing the chance of using the cheap ninja costumes to the fullest.
They were now in the waiting room and Mike picked up the National Geographic and started whistling the National Geographic theme.
‘Yeah, I read it this morning,’ said Sean. ‘There’s an interesting article on Atlantis.’
‘Where did they find it, this time?’
Sean didn’t answer for he had managed to pick the lock of Mr. Anderson’s office.
‘YouTube, I thank thee,’ said a very proud Sean.
‘So, where’s Karen’s stuff?’
‘In my pen drive, I wasn’t going to print them at home, I’m not made of money, you know. Ok, I’ll start printing the calendar and you, Mike my friend, start messing with his computer.’
After a couple of hours they had almost finished what they had set out to do.
‘Not bad Mike, not bad! There’s only the piéce de resistance. The giant billboard with a futuristic skyline, which Karen will bring to us. Courtesy of her design company, Trains Design. Welcome to the future Mr. Tyler.’
‘Indeed, Mr Smith, indeed. Although I stand firm that this is still the most stupid idea ever,’ said Mike.
‘I know, but I’m fed up with this job, anyway.’
The two of them left the building tired and sleepy, especially Mike, forgetting they still had their ninja costumes on. Which lead to a police car escorting them almost all the way back to their houses Apparently wearing ninja costumes at six in the morning is frowned upon by the local law enforcers.
The next morning, with a complete makeover from his girlfriend and a false beard Sean again sat in the waiting room, reading what appeared to be a National Geographic from the year 2053, complete with 3D images and cheap holograms. Mr. Anderson’s secretary had been called for a special meeting and in her place was Mrs. Helen. Also known as the Cake Lady. Every Thursday she would come in to sell home-made cakes at incredibly low prices. So low that some people refused to buy from her because they thought she was laundering money.
Finally, Mr Anderson came in, passing by Mrs Helen and the aged Mr Smith. Before entering his office, he turned (wishing he had his chair for a more dramatic effect) and froze, looking at Mrs Helen, and was interrupted by Sean.
‘Hello, Mr Anderson. I came for that meeting we scheduled.’
Mr. Anderson was both surprised and confused.
‘We did? And who might you be?’
‘I’m Mr Smith I’ve come for my raise.’
‘Ohhh, come in Mr Smi–’ he didn’t finish his name, for Mr Anderson was thrown off track by his office. The old clock on the wall was now a LED clock. A calendar on his desk, with a 3D image of what seemed to be a panda, referred to this day as the 25th of April of 2053. His computer’s keyboard and mouse had disappeared.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ asked Mr Anderson in a harsh tone. ‘And where’s my chair?’
‘What sir? I’ve come for my raise, like you said. Just ask your computer.’ said the aged Sean.
‘My computer is just a monitor glued with LEDs.’
‘No, no sir. Computers in the year 2053 are that way now, just talk to it.’ It almost sounded like a demand, which compelled Mr Anderson to talk to his monitor. ‘Hello, er… Computer.’ and the monitor lit up and answered in a sci-fi robotic voice from an old movie, a really bad old movie.
‘HELLO MR ANDERSON, WHAT IS YOUR REQUEST?’
Mr Anderson looked at Sean, totally confused but also amazed that it actually worked. Sean helped his boss a little and emitted a silent ‘year, what is the year’. Mr Anderson either was a bad lip reader or utterly baffled by what was happening. He didn’t say anything until Sean said aloud. ‘The year sir, ask him the year’.
‘Er… What year is it?
‘THE YEAR IS TWO THOUSAND AND… SORRY. WINDOWS 18 ENCOUNTERED AN ERROR. PLEASE STAND BY FOR THE BLUE SCREEN IN THREE, TWO. ONEEeee,’ and the computer shut down.
‘Interesting Mr Smith how you did that. But you do realize that I know this is fake. I can see the string from your false beard and Mrs. Helen comes by my office every Monday to sell her premium cakes. Expensive, but worth every penny. Hmmm that chocolate one tastes rather fine.’
Sean thought he was being scammed by Mrs Helen and that, at least, was worth all the effort and stupidity over this entire enterprise.
‘Well, it was worth a try. It was good working here, Mr Anderson.’
‘So you’re quitting?’ asked his boss.
‘Quitting? I thought you were going to fire me after this.’
‘No, unfortunately it is very difficult to fire someone. You should have murdered someone here in the office if you really wanted to get fired. Now, please get back to work, your pile of papers isn’t getting any smaller.’
Sean didn’t foresee this outcome so he just answered with a plain ‘ok.’
‘Oh, and Mr Smith. Bring me back my chair A.S.A.P..’
Sean took off his beard and left his boss’s office. He had thought through numerous outcomes, and this wasn’t one of them. He grabbed his phone, also pimped to be futuristic, and by pimped it meant full of different coloured LEDs, and phoned his friend. He decided they would have lunch in the nearby park. It was quite sunny.
‘So, how did it go?’ asked Mike.
‘Weird, I guess. Didn’t get the raise. So weird but normal’
They sat there silently eating their tuna sandwiches. Sean was the first to eat, well, he was the first to stop eating, since he wasn’t that hungry. He looked up at the sunny sky and said, ‘Mike?’
‘Yes?’
‘Kudos on the blue screen of death thing.’
‘Thanks Sean.’