Remaining Stationery [sic]

All the company’s heads were at the meeting, but after four hours they were no closer to coming up with a solution.

The Head of Administration looked round at the other three heads with a twinkle in his eye.

“Come now, my dauntless, pulchritudinous colleagues…”

“...pul-chri-tu-di-nous colleagues…” murmured Tim the PA, as he took the minutes on his laptop.

“...surely we can find an answer to this mighty problem between us?” He took a deep breath. “How on earth are we going to fit this new delivery of envelopes into the stationery cupboard?”

The Head of Marketing stared back blankly. The Head of Human Resources leaned over and poured out yet another glass of carrot juice, while the Head of Sales stirred her own juice listlessly with a fresh stick of celery. She leaned closer to the Head of HR as he took a sip to keep his throat moist.

“Would you like to add a little ethanol to that?” She discreetly showed him a vodka miniature.

He nodded eagerly and with a grin, she tipped some vodka in.

“Come on! Give me some more ideas!” said the Head of Administration.

The Head of Marketing screamed and everyone jumped.

Well, apart from Tim who continued to type. “The Head of Marketing then screamed…”

The Head of Marketing stood up. “I can’t take it any more!” He started ripping off his clothes until he was down to a rather splendid leather codpiece. “This meeting is never going to have an ending! Never!”

He grabbed the Head of Administration.

“So I will make this your terminus!”

And he began dragging him towards the window.

“My goodness,” said the Head of Administration, struggling to get free. “I do hope you’re not going to defenestrate me...”

“...not going to de-fen-estrate me,” muttered Tim, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

This was the catalyst to rouse the Heads of HR and Sales from their ennui.

“Mike,” shouted the Head of Sales, getting up and running over. “Stop it!”

“Put him down!” called the Head of HR, following on after the Head of Sales.

But the Head of Marketing paid them no heed and he flung the Head of Administration at the window.

Luckily it was closed and the Head of Administration bounced off, suffering only a cut to the forehead.

“Ow!” he said. “I believe that will cicatrize, you know.”

“....ci-ca-trize, you know…” said Tim frowning in concentration.

The Head of Marketing put his head in his hands. “I’ve wasted my life,” he sobbed. “My job is pointless. Everything we do is pointless.”

“Ah, a moment of anagnorisis…” said the Head of Administration.

“...moment of… Hang on,” said Tim. “I am going to have to Google that one...”

“I shouldn’t have listened to my parents. I should’ve joined that reggae group.” And the Head of Marketing began to skank to music only he could hear.

The Head of Sales patted his shoulder, while the Head of HR turned to the Head of Administration.

The vodka had made him a little bolder. “Look,” he said, “I don’t like bringing religion into the workplace but I am a Satanist. To hurry this along, I could call on the Dark Lord to counsel us in his wisdom..?”

The Head of Administration frowned. “Are you being facetious?”

“No, indeed,” said the Head of HR, shocked.

“Well, excelsior!” beamed the head of Administration. “That’s the kind of lateral thinking and problem solving I like to see. Have at it.”

“...the Head of Marketing having had a breakdown, it was decided to call on the devil…” Tim’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

The Head of HR cleared his throat, raised his hands, and intoned a dark incantation.

An amorphous cloud began unfurling and a terrible apparition appeared before them in dramatic chiaroscuro and with an eldritch grin.

The Head of HR gulped. “O great elemental master of mysterious legend. We beg for your judgment in this matter of fitting more stock into the stationery cupboard.”

For a moment there was silence, then in deep, disturbing tones the apparition said:

“Have you thought about putting more shelving in?”

“Oh, for…” The Head of HR glared at his master. “We thought about that hours ago! There isn’t enough space!”

“Oh well, do let me beg your forgiveness for trying to help!” said the Dark Lord.  “Barbarian. I remember when I used to be summoned by sophisticated worshippers.”

And he abruptly vanished.

“...the Dark Lord returned to those realms from whence he came…” muttered Tim, typing like crazy.

“I give up!” declared the Head of HR. “There is no answer to our problem. It’s sent the Head of Marketing mad, it’s defeated the devil, it’s left us trapped in a never ending meeting… It’s obviously impossible. Impossible!”

Just then there was a knock on the door, and a young woman popped her head into the room.

She frowned briefly at the mostly naked, dancing Head of Marketing and then addressed the Head of Administration. “Is it OK if I leave now, Mr. Jones? I’ve finished.”

“Yes, of course, Tina.”

Tina smiled and began to leave. But then she turned back. “Oh by the way, I had a few spare minutes so I rearranged the stationery cupboard to get those envelopes in.”

Everyone stared at her, flabbergasted.

“Is… that OK?” she said, eyeing them worriedly. “Only you all seemed busy so…”

“Yes. Yes, that’s wonderful,” said the Head of Administration. “Thank you.”

Tina gave him a nod and, with one last anxious glance, left again.

“Well, I suppose we should all go home too,” said the Head of Administration, dazedly. “It is getting very late...”

The Head of Marketing danced over. “Here comes the moon!”

“...and then the Head of Marketing showed us his bottom.” Tim lifted his hands from the keyboard and gazed in satisfaction at his notes.

He looked up to see the Heads of Administration, Sales and HR staring at him.

“What?” he said.