Blood and Toner

Posted: January 13, 2011 by writingsprint in postaday2011, postaweek2011, Weird
Tags: , , ,

Office Samurai

Office Samurai


Quote of the day: “You might want to take a taser and a fire extinguisher into work.” So…

An undisclosed corporate tax firm. April 15th. 11:50 p.m.

I tapped data into the spreadsheets as fast as I could. Behind me, Bob from from southwestern accounts leaped over the wall of my cube and tased the annoying kid from northeastern accounts. By the sound of it he put enough juice into him to make his fillings glow for a week.

“How’s it coming?” Bob asked.

“Not any faster with you asking me how it’s coming,” I said. Enter. Subtotal. Next column. Link data to last year’s actuals. Ignore screaming from the other side of the room.

Bob knocked over another set of cubes to try to build a barricade. The people who worked in those cubes got their work done and ran home before 5 p.m., were dead, or were lying unconscious or being evacuated to the medical unit that was set up next to the ping pong tables in the game room on the 32nd floor. Nothing can describe the carnage that’s the end of the tax season. Extensions? Hah. Penalties? Your customers will break your fingers first. Tax accounting is bloodshed. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

Bob was my wingman. I helped him get done his accounts yesterday. In return, Bob was keeping people from interrupting me, distracting me, or otherwise siphoning off my resources at the 11th hour. Check that, the 11th hour and 52 minutes.

Check numbers. Within roundoff error. Good. Send it. I punched ‘enter’ and got ready to validate the last two accounts.

A round of frenzied screaming rose up from the stairwell, near the vending machines. I recognized the high pitched voices from the Christmas singalong club. “Aw, don’t tell me it’s the Virgin Islands group.”

“Covered in toner and heading for the copy room.”

“Why can’t they just go to Kinko’s?”

The building shook and there was a red light of fire reaching up out of the corner of my eye. “That’s why.”

“Who is it?”

Bob tried to look while not leaving his guard down. He was armed with a letter opener in one hand and the busted-off arm of a paper cutter in the other. His tie was wrapped around his head, kamikaze-style. “Looks like the company with the big green square. They’ve set up a perimeter around the entrance.”

I chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

A melee erupted by the copy room. I heard fire extinguishers going off as the Legacy department – which had the least electronic filing, and the most paper – fought off the Virgin Islands. It was getting bloody.

“Watch my back, man,” I said to Bob. Even if they didn’t come after us, if that ruckus made its way here… “Five more minutes.”

Punch it. Subtotals equal summary sheet. Send. One to go.

(Picture found on Flickr after a Google search for “office samurai.)


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