(as in business. Not crime.)
(This time.)
(The only crime here is no spell check. Sigh)
(This time.)
(The only crime here is no spell check. Sigh)
Edited by Phenelopy on 6/28/2013 1:24 PM PDT
Wee-Fix-It: The Commision
She waited until the annoying gnomess and her escort had walked out the door and down the boardwalk a ways before she scowled, leaned across the table and swatted her gnome partner sharply on the back of his head. “Anthel, have ya finally gone and lost yer everloovin’ tictok min’?”
She sat back up and adjusted her big blond wig. He sat at the bargaining table almost in a daze, oblivious to the slap, staring out the warehouse office door after the departing gnomess. In disgust, Phenelopy rose from the bargaining table and took a lap around the newly accepted project.
All over it were clear signs of abuse: Burn marks, water damage, worn down moving parts - even exorcism symbols chalked around its sides.
It clearly had had a rough year; Phenelopy didn’t need the travails told to them by the gnomess to see that.
As she made her way around it, Phenelopy threw her hands up, “How ya’ plannin’ ta meet that deadline? We’re running late on the Belthone project, as it is, and <that’s> gonna keep our hands tied up for the next three, four weeks.” Phenelopy’s voice continued to gain volume. “And that’s not taking into consideration the heap of trouble we’ll be gettin’ in, if one of them goons hears of this commission,” she waved her right hand in the direction of the docks and Ratchet proper.
She sat back up and adjusted her big blond wig. He sat at the bargaining table almost in a daze, oblivious to the slap, staring out the warehouse office door after the departing gnomess. In disgust, Phenelopy rose from the bargaining table and took a lap around the newly accepted project.
All over it were clear signs of abuse: Burn marks, water damage, worn down moving parts - even exorcism symbols chalked around its sides.
It clearly had had a rough year; Phenelopy didn’t need the travails told to them by the gnomess to see that.
As she made her way around it, Phenelopy threw her hands up, “How ya’ plannin’ ta meet that deadline? We’re running late on the Belthone project, as it is, and <that’s> gonna keep our hands tied up for the next three, four weeks.” Phenelopy’s voice continued to gain volume. “And that’s not taking into consideration the heap of trouble we’ll be gettin’ in, if one of them goons hears of this commission,” she waved her right hand in the direction of the docks and Ratchet proper.
Edited by Phenelopy on 6/28/2013 1:23 PM PDT
The gnome fellow shook his head to clear it and rose from the table. “Hush, sweetie, hush,” he waved his hands gently to bring Phenelopy’s volume down; it’d be the end of their business, at best, if one of the “goons” were to walk by and hear her screams.
“The Kor’kron are here. They’ve got plenty keeping them busy here abouts, and they will be coming into Ratchet for a little R&R for the foreseeable future. It’s a fact, clear as day. So we just gotta keep this job outta their sight. And their hearing, right?” He looked pointedly at her, until she nodded curtly.
She moved aside as he walked over and, with his shirttail, polished the name plate affixed to its top. “I’m telling you, this is HERS. The very one,” he exclaimed. “We’ll have to tell Belthone that we’re having trouble getting his parts in through Ashenvale. That’ll sound plausible, and then set his stuff aside for THIS.”
Overcome with exultation, he hopped/danced around their newest project.
“THIS,” he paused to tap its top then continued his hop/dance, “THIS is IT. Our big break. If we do this right, handle this right - with polish, pizazz, and professionalism -” he punctuated the p’s by flinging first his right hand, then his left, then both out to full extension while twirling, “we’ll be set, I tell you, SET!”
As he hopped around to her side, he grabbed Phenelopy’s two hands in his and wheeled her into a rollicking, tango-slash-waltz around the desk. Her wig tilted jauntily to her left as they twirled through the office.
“The Kor’kron are here. They’ve got plenty keeping them busy here abouts, and they will be coming into Ratchet for a little R&R for the foreseeable future. It’s a fact, clear as day. So we just gotta keep this job outta their sight. And their hearing, right?” He looked pointedly at her, until she nodded curtly.
She moved aside as he walked over and, with his shirttail, polished the name plate affixed to its top. “I’m telling you, this is HERS. The very one,” he exclaimed. “We’ll have to tell Belthone that we’re having trouble getting his parts in through Ashenvale. That’ll sound plausible, and then set his stuff aside for THIS.”
Overcome with exultation, he hopped/danced around their newest project.
“THIS,” he paused to tap its top then continued his hop/dance, “THIS is IT. Our big break. If we do this right, handle this right - with polish, pizazz, and professionalism -” he punctuated the p’s by flinging first his right hand, then his left, then both out to full extension while twirling, “we’ll be set, I tell you, SET!”
As he hopped around to her side, he grabbed Phenelopy’s two hands in his and wheeled her into a rollicking, tango-slash-waltz around the desk. Her wig tilted jauntily to her left as they twirled through the office.
Edited by Anthelmot on 6/28/2013 1:32 PM PDT
Many, many months later . . . .
(because everyone knows that contractors NEVER finish on time.)
(nor on budget)
. . . . . . . .
“Here, let me help you with that.” Phenelopy sashayed over to Anthel, grabbing the tie ends (before he strangled himself), loosening its knot, and slipping the tie over his head.
“What are you doing? Now I’ll have to repress that.” His choked cry belied his tie-free neck as he watched her wad up the tie.
She tossed the tie ball onto the chaise lounge and pressed her palms on his chest. “Snookums, you and I both know that I should be the one handlin’ these negotiations. Yah, yah, I know.”
She pressed her forefinger on his lips to stop his protestations. “You’ve got that all-one-big-happy-gnomily thing going for you. And that worked on the gnomess who commissioned this job, I’ll give you that. (Well at least until we tried to send her the bill.)
“But. You and I BOTH know, this one (she poked her forefinger on his chest emphasizing the two words), this one is a sharper bargainer than you’ll ever be. Has to be; no fault of yours, no.” She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“How else do you think she ever made it to CEO of AAMS, eh?” She smoothed his lapels hoping to soothe his pride too. “How ‘bout while I’m over in Booty Bay, you work on the Owner’s Manual, and maybe start speccing the partner piece to go with this one. Hmm?
“You know, I hear that Ms. Grayson is a very tall, very particular person. You’ll have to make significant changes to the current model.” She watched Anthel’s energy shift from huff to dreaming in the blink of an eye.
Disaster averted, she took a quick look at herself in her vanity mirror beside the chaise lounge: her wig was upright, her makeup appropriate for a business visit. This was going to be a tough sell, but she now agreed with her hubby’s original assessment oh so many months ago: if they handled this right, they’d be set. Not for life, but for an agreeably long enough time.
(because everyone knows that contractors NEVER finish on time.)
(nor on budget)
. . . . . . . .
“Here, let me help you with that.” Phenelopy sashayed over to Anthel, grabbing the tie ends (before he strangled himself), loosening its knot, and slipping the tie over his head.
“What are you doing? Now I’ll have to repress that.” His choked cry belied his tie-free neck as he watched her wad up the tie.
She tossed the tie ball onto the chaise lounge and pressed her palms on his chest. “Snookums, you and I both know that I should be the one handlin’ these negotiations. Yah, yah, I know.”
She pressed her forefinger on his lips to stop his protestations. “You’ve got that all-one-big-happy-gnomily thing going for you. And that worked on the gnomess who commissioned this job, I’ll give you that. (Well at least until we tried to send her the bill.)
“But. You and I BOTH know, this one (she poked her forefinger on his chest emphasizing the two words), this one is a sharper bargainer than you’ll ever be. Has to be; no fault of yours, no.” She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“How else do you think she ever made it to CEO of AAMS, eh?” She smoothed his lapels hoping to soothe his pride too. “How ‘bout while I’m over in Booty Bay, you work on the Owner’s Manual, and maybe start speccing the partner piece to go with this one. Hmm?
“You know, I hear that Ms. Grayson is a very tall, very particular person. You’ll have to make significant changes to the current model.” She watched Anthel’s energy shift from huff to dreaming in the blink of an eye.
Disaster averted, she took a quick look at herself in her vanity mirror beside the chaise lounge: her wig was upright, her makeup appropriate for a business visit. This was going to be a tough sell, but she now agreed with her hubby’s original assessment oh so many months ago: if they handled this right, they’d be set. Not for life, but for an agreeably long enough time.
Please report any Code of Conduct violations, including:
Threats of violence. We take these seriously and will alert the proper authorities.
Posts containing personal information about other players. This includes physical addresses, e-mail addresses, phone numbers, and inappropriate photos and/or videos.
Harassing or discriminatory language. This will not be tolerated.
