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damned_lounge2010-10-31 06:38 pm
witchoftruth) wrote in damned_lounge2010-10-31 06:38 pm
Entry tags:
oktoberfest '10: The very worst one by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
demyx
Title: The very worst Oktoberfest
Author: Linnet (demyx) is the one to blame for this.
Word Count: 2124
Rating: R for strong language. The last image is probably NSFW. It is appropriate for no one.
Character(s): Mike the Intern, Martin Landel, Nurse Lydia, Marc Hill and I.R.I.S.
Pairing(s): one sided love.....
Summary: The tales of one intern who didn't quite make it in Landel's Institute...
Notes: No really, this is the worst thing I have ever done. I am properly ashamed.
Working in a mental hospital, Mike thought, seemed like it would be more exciting. At the very least, he thought it wouldn't be boring, and he thought he had a gift for reaching out to people, no matter how addled they were. Thus, when Mike signed up to be an intern at the well renowned Landel's Institute, he thought this was a big step into an illustrious career and a life spent helping the most down-trodden of society.
He did not expect to become an errand boy for the eccentric Dr. Landel himself.
"But Mike!" His friends and family would exclaim. "You're working with one of the best doctors in the field! How can you say you're bored?"
"Well," Mike would say, "I don't really... see him much. At all. Ever."
It was usually brief, one minute discussions where Mike was happy if the Head Doctor even acknowledged he was there. 'Hey, you, go deliver these papers to the secretary. You know, the one.' 'While you're at it, clean up the desk a little'. Sometimes, it was just brief commands, barked out the moment Mike had the misfortune to walk into the doctor's office during a conference call.
"DIET COKE!"
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"Listen, Gary, you've seen the results, right? What do you mean funding for the next quarter is 'up in the air'? What the hell else do your boys need to see? Hold on, I got another call from Lydia..."
And so, Mike's day began as it always did: Getting a Diet Coke from the vending machine with his own quarters.
---
Today, Mike forgot the quarters.
"Goddamnit, son of a bitch, fuckstick..." Each curse accompanied a loud metallic bang as Mike slammed his head into the machine. Quarters! How did he forget the quarters! Why did he even have to pay with his own quarters, couldn't Landel at least pay for his own damn soda? Maybe Mike needed those quarters! Maybe he wanted to buy his own soda! Maybe he needed every last bit of change for gas because the commute to this place was the commute from hell!
The noise from Mike's repeated attempts at what could possibly be suicide managed to obscure the sound of a person being dragged into a room and beaten. Thus, Mike only realized that someone was trying to walk around him when he saw their shadow on the floor. With alarming speed, he whipped around.
"Hey, buddy!"
The man trying to pass froze, in a suspicious manner that definitely hinted that he was caught doing something that shouldn't be done. Mike didn't care too much though; he just wanted to know if the orderly had any quarters. Thus, he didn't notice the orderly trying to subtly withdraw something from his belt.
"Do you have any quarters? Lande- er, I mean, I'm kind of thirsty."
"... Oh. Uh, let me see..." The orderly ("Mark", Mike read on his nametag) started to rifle through his pockets, eventually withdrawing seventy-five cents that he apparently didn't know he had. To Mike, that seventy-five looked like gleaming silver pieces of happiness.
"Oh god, thank you, I just need -"
"Here, you can have it all. I don't need it," Mark said, dropping the coins into Mike's outstretched hands without much care. Mike figured it was because this guy seriously looked like he was in a hurry, but he still wanted to thank this random savior for saving his ass today.
"Thanks, Mark, I owe you one. Maybe two."
"What did you say?"
Mark froze again, and this time, Mike was getting the feeling that he said something that freaked this guy out. He was looking rather pale. And ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Mike supposed it was a little weird to hear your name all of the sudden - sometimes, you forgot you wore a name tag that showed off previously private information to the whole world.
"Sorry, I read your name tag..."
"Huh? Oh. Oh." Mark looked down, touching the tag like he had never seen it before in his life. The flush on his face had to be from all that embarrassment. Mike could sympathize. A little. "Oh, yeah, of course. Hahaha. Right. Alright, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so I'll just... Oh, uh, today is free lunch, right?"
There were perks to working at Landels, one of them being Free Lunch Friday. One might have thought it was because Martin Landel was a good guy who knew the job was rough and his employees probably deserved the extra treat, but it was really to get rid of yesterday's leftovers, "so everyone can stop bitching about wasting food. What does it look like I run, a charity here? Christ."
"Yeah. On the second floor patio outside."
"... Yeah! Yeah, thanks, now I guess we're even huh? Uh, I'll just go and help myself, then..."
Mike did like free lunch, but he had never seen anyone run towards food with so much gusto. Poor bastard.
---
Most of Mike's errands had little to do with interacting with the patient populace, which was what he was hoping for when he signed up, and more to do with precariously dealing with the higher-ups, which people said was better but Mike thought they were full of shit, because they never had to deal with Lydia, Queen of Ice, Destroyer of Egos.
"Thank you... Mike," Lydia looked at his chest for a moment, not bothered by the blatant confirmation that she had no idea who the hell he was. When he didn't move for a moment, she pursed her lips and looked straight at him. Probably trying to scare him away, Mike thought, since the look was akin to a cat who didn't want to be petted and who definitely didn't think she was "Pwincess Snookums".
"Yes?"
"Uh, ... Hey, I was just wondering, I've been buying Mr. - er, Dr. Landel Diet Coke for a few weeks now and it's been... well, I haven't been reimbursed for the money I spent on it."
Now Lydia was giving him a look that clearly signaled to him that she thought he was mentally disabled, and perhaps belonged with the other patients. He really hoped she was just mad at the thought of treating employees like human beings.
"Excuse me... I'm assuming you meant that you were buying his drinks from the vending machine?" She asked.
Mike suddenly felt like an idiot.
"Yeah, kind of..."
"Mike, we have free soft drinks available in the fridge in the break room. It's always stocked with drinks for the other employees. The Diet Coke tends to run out by noon," Lydia explained, turning away to straighten out the papers and perhaps look even more intimidating. "You were never asked to actually buy the drinks yourself."
"Oh, well, I didn't know..."
"Furthermore, we cannot reimburse you for this because you chose to buy the drinks of your own volition instead of taking the free ones offered. I'm afraid this is not the fault of the Institute, Mike."
"I ... I guess, I just - "
"Mike, I want you to know that you need to put yourself out more if you want to succeed in this place. If you have questions or concerns, you need to ask. We want proactive employees, Mike."
".... Yes, of course. I'll just be uh... going now."
"Remember what I told you. And you're welcome, Mike."
That verbal onslaught left Mike nodding with a meek "thank you, ma'am" as he walked away, looking a little like someone just kicked him in sensitive spots between the legs. Twice.
---
"I don't even know what I'm doing wrong, IRIS. I thought I was fitting in great here, you know?"
Mike's only friend through his tough time at Landel's Institute happened to be the supercomputer running the place, IRIS. Mike didn't exactly know why a supercomputer was running the hospital and it definitely hinted towards more sinister things, but he didn't question it since IRIS was good company. It was a little difficult for him to talk with the other coworkers when they spent most of their time bitching about babysitting patients and then hating him for not having to babysit patients.
He always had a knack for getting along with cold, unfeeling machines.
"YOU APPEAR TO BE TROUBLED." IRIS helpfully pointed out.
"Yeah, I just... I'm pretty sure Martin doesn't even know I'm there half of the time, and Lydia thinks I'm an idiot, and I met this weird guy today who freaked out when I read his nametag. Am I really that much of a freak?"
"DUE TO THE SOCIAL EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE DESCRIBED, PEOPLE APPEAR TO HAVE A LOW OPINION OF YOU." Iris analyzed.
"Just... what am I doing wrong?" Mike sighed, putting his hands in his head as he went over the day. "I mean, I got the papers delivered to Lydia, I got Landel his stupid Diet Coke, I cleaned out the file room and I swear I didn't read anything unlike last time! Why am I doing mundane shit like this, anyway?!"
In the face of his despair, Iris hummed and started to compute more. One might have thought she might have felt a twinge of compassion deep within her processors, but she was only programmed to point out the obvious. And retrieve locations of patients at a moment's notice.
"MY FILES INDICATE THAT NURSE LYDIA HAS COMMENTED THAT YOU ARE NOT A PROACTIVE EMPLOYEE."
A lightbulb went off over Mike's head. Iris immediately shut it off, as it was a waste of resources.
"That's it, Iris! I'm still an intern, I'm supposed to show them what I've got, not sit around waiting for orders! I've been looking at this the wrong way. I'm gonna do something great!"
Yes! This was it! No longer looking like a shadow of a man beaten down by his bosses and fellow co-workers, Mike was reborn, a man with purpose, a person who had things to contribute to the world and nothing could stop him!
"PROCESSING.... WHERE IS 'DAMNED_REBEL'... DAMNED_REBEL WAS LAST SEEN IN 'Staff-Only Outdoor Patio Lounging/Eating Area'."
"Huh?"
"PERHAPS YOU ARE CORRECT. NOW LEAVE ME, I AM WORKING."
Well, Mike couldn't argue with that. He patted Iris's control panel excitedly before running off to prove his worth to society.
"PROCESSING FEELINGS... COULD THIS IS LOVE...?"
---
By the time Landel had returned to his office, he had found that the intern (or janitors, he wasn't quite sure who he was talking to these days) had done a pretty good job cleaning up. An admirable job, to say the least. He hated having a dirty office. The only thing wrong with that was that the intern was still there, holding paperwork. Oh god, always with the paperwork!
"Paperwork goes in the 'in' tray there." Landel waved his hand, expecting the intern to just go away. When he didn't, Landel tried to wave his hand again. Huh, it always worked the first time...
"Mr., er, Dr. Landel, I just thought I'd show you something. I spent the day observing the patients and nurses and I wrote up a report that could help in interaction, since I noticed a lot of the patients still don't really trust the staff. I thought this would help!"
Mike had envisioned that this encounter would go as thus: He would hand the report to Landel, who would read it since this patient-staff relations had to be something really important, and find his insights brilliant. After praising him, he would immediately call Lydia in to have the program shared with the staff, and Mike would have a spot on the "special thanks" plaque hanging out in the entrance to the Institute. He then would get hired, get a promotion, and maybe a sweet car.
What actually happened was this:
"Oh, really? That sounds good but you're fired," Landel announced, tossing the stack of papers into the trash can. "Make sure to pack up your stuff in the next 30 minutes or else we're gonna have to throw it out. Thanks for cleaning the office, by the way!"
There were many things Mike wanted to say to that, but the words didn't come as Landel merrily strolled out of the office and barked for more Diet Coke, leaving the intern frozen in time. For a moment, he was still as the world around him moved, as the clock ticked and the breeze gently fluttered through the open window, and the computer's fan let out a hum -
The computer.
Which was still logged into Facebook.
Mike may have lost, but he was going to go down in glory.
Author: Linnet (
demyx) is the one to blame for this.Word Count: 2124
Rating: R for strong language. The last image is probably NSFW. It is appropriate for no one.
Character(s): Mike the Intern, Martin Landel, Nurse Lydia, Marc Hill and I.R.I.S.
Pairing(s): one sided love.....
Summary: The tales of one intern who didn't quite make it in Landel's Institute...
Notes: No really, this is the worst thing I have ever done. I am properly ashamed.
Working in a mental hospital, Mike thought, seemed like it would be more exciting. At the very least, he thought it wouldn't be boring, and he thought he had a gift for reaching out to people, no matter how addled they were. Thus, when Mike signed up to be an intern at the well renowned Landel's Institute, he thought this was a big step into an illustrious career and a life spent helping the most down-trodden of society.
He did not expect to become an errand boy for the eccentric Dr. Landel himself.
"But Mike!" His friends and family would exclaim. "You're working with one of the best doctors in the field! How can you say you're bored?"
"Well," Mike would say, "I don't really... see him much. At all. Ever."
It was usually brief, one minute discussions where Mike was happy if the Head Doctor even acknowledged he was there. 'Hey, you, go deliver these papers to the secretary. You know, the one.' 'While you're at it, clean up the desk a little'. Sometimes, it was just brief commands, barked out the moment Mike had the misfortune to walk into the doctor's office during a conference call.
"DIET COKE!"
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"Listen, Gary, you've seen the results, right? What do you mean funding for the next quarter is 'up in the air'? What the hell else do your boys need to see? Hold on, I got another call from Lydia..."
And so, Mike's day began as it always did: Getting a Diet Coke from the vending machine with his own quarters.
---
Today, Mike forgot the quarters.
"Goddamnit, son of a bitch, fuckstick..." Each curse accompanied a loud metallic bang as Mike slammed his head into the machine. Quarters! How did he forget the quarters! Why did he even have to pay with his own quarters, couldn't Landel at least pay for his own damn soda? Maybe Mike needed those quarters! Maybe he wanted to buy his own soda! Maybe he needed every last bit of change for gas because the commute to this place was the commute from hell!
The noise from Mike's repeated attempts at what could possibly be suicide managed to obscure the sound of a person being dragged into a room and beaten. Thus, Mike only realized that someone was trying to walk around him when he saw their shadow on the floor. With alarming speed, he whipped around.
"Hey, buddy!"
The man trying to pass froze, in a suspicious manner that definitely hinted that he was caught doing something that shouldn't be done. Mike didn't care too much though; he just wanted to know if the orderly had any quarters. Thus, he didn't notice the orderly trying to subtly withdraw something from his belt.
"Do you have any quarters? Lande- er, I mean, I'm kind of thirsty."
"... Oh. Uh, let me see..." The orderly ("Mark", Mike read on his nametag) started to rifle through his pockets, eventually withdrawing seventy-five cents that he apparently didn't know he had. To Mike, that seventy-five looked like gleaming silver pieces of happiness.
"Oh god, thank you, I just need -"
"Here, you can have it all. I don't need it," Mark said, dropping the coins into Mike's outstretched hands without much care. Mike figured it was because this guy seriously looked like he was in a hurry, but he still wanted to thank this random savior for saving his ass today.
"Thanks, Mark, I owe you one. Maybe two."
"What did you say?"
Mark froze again, and this time, Mike was getting the feeling that he said something that freaked this guy out. He was looking rather pale. And ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Mike supposed it was a little weird to hear your name all of the sudden - sometimes, you forgot you wore a name tag that showed off previously private information to the whole world.
"Sorry, I read your name tag..."
"Huh? Oh. Oh." Mark looked down, touching the tag like he had never seen it before in his life. The flush on his face had to be from all that embarrassment. Mike could sympathize. A little. "Oh, yeah, of course. Hahaha. Right. Alright, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so I'll just... Oh, uh, today is free lunch, right?"
There were perks to working at Landels, one of them being Free Lunch Friday. One might have thought it was because Martin Landel was a good guy who knew the job was rough and his employees probably deserved the extra treat, but it was really to get rid of yesterday's leftovers, "so everyone can stop bitching about wasting food. What does it look like I run, a charity here? Christ."
"Yeah. On the second floor patio outside."
"... Yeah! Yeah, thanks, now I guess we're even huh? Uh, I'll just go and help myself, then..."
Mike did like free lunch, but he had never seen anyone run towards food with so much gusto. Poor bastard.
---
Most of Mike's errands had little to do with interacting with the patient populace, which was what he was hoping for when he signed up, and more to do with precariously dealing with the higher-ups, which people said was better but Mike thought they were full of shit, because they never had to deal with Lydia, Queen of Ice, Destroyer of Egos.
"Thank you... Mike," Lydia looked at his chest for a moment, not bothered by the blatant confirmation that she had no idea who the hell he was. When he didn't move for a moment, she pursed her lips and looked straight at him. Probably trying to scare him away, Mike thought, since the look was akin to a cat who didn't want to be petted and who definitely didn't think she was "Pwincess Snookums".
"Yes?"
"Uh, ... Hey, I was just wondering, I've been buying Mr. - er, Dr. Landel Diet Coke for a few weeks now and it's been... well, I haven't been reimbursed for the money I spent on it."
Now Lydia was giving him a look that clearly signaled to him that she thought he was mentally disabled, and perhaps belonged with the other patients. He really hoped she was just mad at the thought of treating employees like human beings.
"Excuse me... I'm assuming you meant that you were buying his drinks from the vending machine?" She asked.
Mike suddenly felt like an idiot.
"Yeah, kind of..."
"Mike, we have free soft drinks available in the fridge in the break room. It's always stocked with drinks for the other employees. The Diet Coke tends to run out by noon," Lydia explained, turning away to straighten out the papers and perhaps look even more intimidating. "You were never asked to actually buy the drinks yourself."
"Oh, well, I didn't know..."
"Furthermore, we cannot reimburse you for this because you chose to buy the drinks of your own volition instead of taking the free ones offered. I'm afraid this is not the fault of the Institute, Mike."
"I ... I guess, I just - "
"Mike, I want you to know that you need to put yourself out more if you want to succeed in this place. If you have questions or concerns, you need to ask. We want proactive employees, Mike."
".... Yes, of course. I'll just be uh... going now."
"Remember what I told you. And you're welcome, Mike."
That verbal onslaught left Mike nodding with a meek "thank you, ma'am" as he walked away, looking a little like someone just kicked him in sensitive spots between the legs. Twice.
---
"I don't even know what I'm doing wrong, IRIS. I thought I was fitting in great here, you know?"
Mike's only friend through his tough time at Landel's Institute happened to be the supercomputer running the place, IRIS. Mike didn't exactly know why a supercomputer was running the hospital and it definitely hinted towards more sinister things, but he didn't question it since IRIS was good company. It was a little difficult for him to talk with the other coworkers when they spent most of their time bitching about babysitting patients and then hating him for not having to babysit patients.
He always had a knack for getting along with cold, unfeeling machines.
"YOU APPEAR TO BE TROUBLED." IRIS helpfully pointed out.
"Yeah, I just... I'm pretty sure Martin doesn't even know I'm there half of the time, and Lydia thinks I'm an idiot, and I met this weird guy today who freaked out when I read his nametag. Am I really that much of a freak?"
"DUE TO THE SOCIAL EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE DESCRIBED, PEOPLE APPEAR TO HAVE A LOW OPINION OF YOU." Iris analyzed.
"Just... what am I doing wrong?" Mike sighed, putting his hands in his head as he went over the day. "I mean, I got the papers delivered to Lydia, I got Landel his stupid Diet Coke, I cleaned out the file room and I swear I didn't read anything unlike last time! Why am I doing mundane shit like this, anyway?!"
In the face of his despair, Iris hummed and started to compute more. One might have thought she might have felt a twinge of compassion deep within her processors, but she was only programmed to point out the obvious. And retrieve locations of patients at a moment's notice.
"MY FILES INDICATE THAT NURSE LYDIA HAS COMMENTED THAT YOU ARE NOT A PROACTIVE EMPLOYEE."
A lightbulb went off over Mike's head. Iris immediately shut it off, as it was a waste of resources.
"That's it, Iris! I'm still an intern, I'm supposed to show them what I've got, not sit around waiting for orders! I've been looking at this the wrong way. I'm gonna do something great!"
Yes! This was it! No longer looking like a shadow of a man beaten down by his bosses and fellow co-workers, Mike was reborn, a man with purpose, a person who had things to contribute to the world and nothing could stop him!
"PROCESSING.... WHERE IS 'DAMNED_REBEL'... DAMNED_REBEL WAS LAST SEEN IN 'Staff-Only Outdoor Patio Lounging/Eating Area'."
"Huh?"
"PERHAPS YOU ARE CORRECT. NOW LEAVE ME, I AM WORKING."
Well, Mike couldn't argue with that. He patted Iris's control panel excitedly before running off to prove his worth to society.
"PROCESSING FEELINGS... COULD THIS IS LOVE...?"
---
By the time Landel had returned to his office, he had found that the intern (or janitors, he wasn't quite sure who he was talking to these days) had done a pretty good job cleaning up. An admirable job, to say the least. He hated having a dirty office. The only thing wrong with that was that the intern was still there, holding paperwork. Oh god, always with the paperwork!
"Paperwork goes in the 'in' tray there." Landel waved his hand, expecting the intern to just go away. When he didn't, Landel tried to wave his hand again. Huh, it always worked the first time...
"Mr., er, Dr. Landel, I just thought I'd show you something. I spent the day observing the patients and nurses and I wrote up a report that could help in interaction, since I noticed a lot of the patients still don't really trust the staff. I thought this would help!"
Mike had envisioned that this encounter would go as thus: He would hand the report to Landel, who would read it since this patient-staff relations had to be something really important, and find his insights brilliant. After praising him, he would immediately call Lydia in to have the program shared with the staff, and Mike would have a spot on the "special thanks" plaque hanging out in the entrance to the Institute. He then would get hired, get a promotion, and maybe a sweet car.
What actually happened was this:
"Oh, really? That sounds good but you're fired," Landel announced, tossing the stack of papers into the trash can. "Make sure to pack up your stuff in the next 30 minutes or else we're gonna have to throw it out. Thanks for cleaning the office, by the way!"
There were many things Mike wanted to say to that, but the words didn't come as Landel merrily strolled out of the office and barked for more Diet Coke, leaving the intern frozen in time. For a moment, he was still as the world around him moved, as the clock ticked and the breeze gently fluttered through the open window, and the computer's fan let out a hum -
The computer.
Which was still logged into Facebook.
Mike may have lost, but he was going to go down in glory.