Dave's First Day

Dave had finally got his login and password setup through HR. His desk was set up just right: A pencil holder with 5 No. 2 pencils, and 3 real classy pens. He had a daily Far Side calendar and a Ricky Martin bobblehead to perk him up during the more boring moments of office work. He had a custom mouse pad with a picture of his 6 year old daughter on it. He logged on to the company network and was ready to go.

In Outlook Express, there was an automated "welcome" email from the company, including links to the company's policies.

It was Dave's first day at work.

A tall, young man with blonde hair and a friendly face walked up to Dave's desk. "So you're the new guy, huh?" A classic ice breaker.

"Huh," replied Dave, "Oh, yeah. Ha ha... I'm Dave." Dave reached out to shake the man's hand.

The handshake was received. "Nice to meet ya, Dave. I'm James, but everyone around here calls me 'Jimmy.' I look forward to workin' with ya!"

"Thanks! Same here. This company seems great so far." Dave smiled.

Jimmy tinkered with Dave's Ricky Martin bobblehead, "Oh, yeah, everyone's real nice. I love it. Fran over there brings in popcorn for everyone on Mondays."

"Huh! Well, that's nice!"

"Yup. And most of us get every other Friday off for working 9-hour days. And on the Fridays we DO work, it's only 8 hours! Did you get that set up?"

Dave was giddily puzzled, "Uh. No! Where do I... I mean, am I allowed to--"

Jimmy patted Dave on the shoulder, "Oh hell yeah. I'm sure Paul's gonna bring it up during your briefing this afternoon."

"Sounds great!"

"Yeah, Paul's a pretty good guy. As long as you get your work done, he's all smiles."

Dave was relieved to hear this. Though he had a friendly meeting with Paul that morning, he had a history of working under bad bosses.

"...But one thing," continued Jimmy, as his face grew concerned, "One thing, Dave... Just make sure you never, under any circumstances, call him a dick."

Dave's eyes grew wide, "Yeah! Right, ha ha. A little absurd to call my boss that."

Jimmy placed both of his hands on each of Dave's shoulders and leaned in close to whisper, "I am not kidding... Paul cannot stand it when somebody calls him a dick."

"You're screwing with me."

"DAVE!" Jimmy gently shook Dave, "Promise me. Promise me here and now that you will not call Paul a dick. It's for the best."

Dave was put off by Jimmy's stern lecture about something that he thought was common sense. You just don't call your boss a dick. Dave took Jimmy's hands off his shoulders.

"Come on. That'd be stupid."

"You're damn right! Now promise me. Promise."

Dave rolled his eyes with a smirk on his face.

"Heh... I promise you, Jimmy. I promise I will not call Paul a... dick."

Jimmy stared, sternly, right into Dave's eyes for a good 10 seconds. "Cool man. See you at lunch!" Jimmy whistled as he walked back to his desk.

Dave shook his head.

2 hours later, it was time for Dave's meeting with his boss, Paul. He stepped into his rather large office. Paul was a bit on the fat side with balding hair, slicked back, and a thin mustache. He had a big smile on his undeniably jolly face.

Paul had a loud, deep, happy voice. It reminded Dave of what he thought Santa Claus sounded like. "How you like it so far?!"

Dave shook Paul's hand enthusiastically, "Great, Paul, great!"

"Well, it's "great" to hear that! HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Ha ha ha!"

Paul casually motioned to a comfortable looking chair, "Take a seat, Dave."

Dave sat down. What a comfortable chair.

Paul's smile grew almost impossibly huge. "So, we gotta get all this boring stuff outta the way. So I'll do my best to keep it short and sweet so you can get back to the fun stuff: working."

Dave genuinely giggled and Paul was visibly pleased his joke was a success.

Paul handed Dave a slim stack of papers, stapled together. He had his own copy.

Paul cleared his throat before he began to read out loud and Dave followed along with the words on his paper, "Here's all the fire exits on this little map. If you hear that fire alarm going off, head out this door, walk down these stairs, and head to the west parking lot."

"Gotcha."

"Good. Okay, next, lab safety. I know you're a computer guy, but you know, I gotta read this to ya anyway."

Dave smiled.

"If you're in one of the labs, make sure you're always wearing a lab coat at all times. If you're tinkering around with hardware, you gotta wear one of those metal wrist thingies that prevents static electricity. You know the thing I mean?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Cool, Dave, cool. When you open the door for someone else about to enter a restricted area, make sure they show you their-- You know what? This part's kinda long. If you want, you can grab a cup of coffee from my pot. It's Peet's! You like Peet's?"

Dave gave Paul the thumbs up, "That actually sounds like it'll hit the spot."

"Good, good, help yourself."

Dave's legs moved toward the upright position in order to stand up. But they couldn't straighten. It was evident that his pants were crazy-glued to the chair he was sitting on. He looked down at the chair, puzzled, using his hands to try to carefully pry his pants bottom from the chair without ripping it. Every now and then he glanced up at his boss, Paul, while he muttered half-words of confusion and embarrassment.

Dave finally said, "I think... Hah... I'm stuck to your chair... Someone must've... Uh... Oh, boy..."

Paul was obviously struggling to contain his laughter.

Dave noticed this, and thought, "Oh, God..."

Jimmy walked by Paul's office, took one quick glance inside, and immediately knew what was happening. He paced quickly around the corner, where nobody could see him. He rested one of his forearms against the wall as he let his head drop. As he stared at the floor, wincing, he gritted his teeth.

"I gotcha!" Paul exclaimed, pointing at Dave.

"Ha ha, yeah, that's pretty funny," Dave lied.

"Ha ha ha, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just can't help it... I'm kind of a..."

"Practical joker."

"Naw, naw, I was gonna say... Huh... It's... more of a mean word... but... it's... slipped... my mind."

"Jerk? Not that I think you're one," said Dave, trying to remain polite.

Paul jabbed his finger towards Dave's face, "Yeah! But not that word, Dave. Come on, you gotta be a little upset with me... And I mean, we're both adults... Agh, it's driving me nuts! What is it?! That... word."

It had hit Dave right then and there. The conversation with Jimmy. He frantically pondered, "What kind of boss is this? What is he trying to do? He can't make me call him a dick!"

Dave winced, "Ass... hole?"

Paul's face turned bright red as he began to sweat profusely. He let out enormous bolts of laughter as he balled his hands into fists and repeatedly slammed them into his desk. "NOPE! BUT I THINK WE'RE GETTING CLOSE! COME ON DAVEY, HELP ME OUT! I HATE IT WHEN THIS HAPPENS! DON'T YOU?! I CANNOT REMEMBER THIS WORD!!"

Dave, still trying to unfasten his butt from the chair, cringingly said, "Me, too. I can't stand when I forget simple stuff like that."

"NO! I KNOW YOU KNOW, DAVE, MY MAN! HA HAA! HELP ME OUT HERE!"

"I... wish I could... but... it... I guess it slipped my mind, too, Paul!"

"NO!! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!!!" With each "NO," Paul viciously slammed his computer monitor harder and harder into the wall. With the final "NO," there was a gigantic hole in the wall and a wrecked HP flat screen monitor.

But, Dave, in his horrified state of mind, only seemed to zone in on the amount of sweat gathered around his boss' armpits.

"OH, WAIT!" shouted Paul, swiftly turning his psychotic-smiley head towards his captive, "It's like... a word that means "jerk," but it's a WHOLE lot ruder... It's not quite "asshole," but it's close... AH! PHYSICALLY close! It's got to do with a man's private parts! So, what is it, Dave? Hmm? Come on, YA GOTTA KNOW!"

Dave's heart was racing. He knew he couldn't say it. His only defense was to beat around the bush and stall his boss as long as possible. Maybe someone would save him? Save him?! What kind of work environment is this??

Dave said, "Prick?"

Paul made a cartoonish grimace and then proceeded to flip his own desk on its side, knocking off all his carefully placed office supplies. He repeatedly kicked and kicked one of the desk's legs until it snapped off. He picked up the wooden peg and stabbed it into a picture of his children that was resting on his shelf. The frame snapped and the glass shattered; a few shards got embedded in Paul's face.

Once again, Paul turned to Dave, "Prick? Hahaha, no, no, it's not "prick." Though I guess that could be used like, 'Agh, you glued my ass to a chair, ya fuckin' prick!' We're getting there, Dave. We'll get this, buddy. OH! And it doesn't include the words: penis, schlong, dong, cock, prick, rod, Johnson, Johnston, sausage, man-chicken, or... uh... OH! You know what? You said 'prick.' I'm not a hundred-percent certain, but I'm pretty sure IT RHYMES WITH "PRICK."

David was silent. For the first time in years, he started to cry. He remembered all the hugs his mother would give him when he was little. That's what he wanted more than anything at that moment: to get his ass unglued from this maniac's chair, drive to his mother's house, and ask her to hug him for a long, long time.

Paul smiled, "Ha ha! Come onnn! You're okay! We're ssooooo close, Davey!"

A voice suddenly and sharply resonated, "You're a dick."

Both Dave and Paul gasped as they saw Jimmy, standing proud, at Paul's door.

Paul stumbled back and landed in his chair. His mouth was agape and his eyes were vacant.

"I'll pack my things," said Jimmy, the company's most valued employee, the man who single-handedly saved the company at least a dozen times.

"Yeah," whispered Paul, "You... I gotta let you go... Jim... Jimmy..."

Jimmy gave his former boss a quick nod, then gave Dave a warm smile as he exited.

The room was silent.

Finally, after taking everything in, Paul said, firmly, "Dave... You got the gorgeous face of a winner." He then walked out of his office to use the restroom.

Dave was still stuck.