Death of a Facilities Support Unit
As some of you may already know, during one of my incarnations, I held a senior position within a large organisation. One year, after a merger, we inherited a substantial number of the other organisation's staff. This included Tim, an autistic fellow with a speech impediment and significant learning difficulties. He was a nice chap, but almost completely useless: because of his speech defect, he couldn't answer the phone; he was terrified of using a computer; and couldn't handle any but the most menial of tasks. The other company had employed him as part of their Diversity Plan and used him for filing, which he was admittedly quite good at; however, we already had enough filing clerks, so Tim had no role to play in our organisation. Senior Management were all for making him redundant, but I thought of a way we could retain him, and - once I'd explained this to them - they agreed to my plan.

So one day I called Tim into Meeting Room 2.2 and sat him down to explain his options. He could either accept redundancy and take three weeks' notice, or remain in employment in a brand new role with reduced pay as a Facilities Support Unit. This role would involve acting as various inanimate objects as and when required. Each morning, when he came in, he would need to report to the Facilities Office, where he would change out of his normal clothes into a body-stocking, and then be stored in a cabinet until he was required. When required, he would be taken from the cabinet, and used. I had to explain this several times to get past Tim's learning difficulties, but, once he understood what was required of him, he accepted. He had little choice - the alternative was unemployment, and, in this economy, who would employ such a one as Tim?

The next day he duly reported to Facilities and changed into the body stocking. I then showed him to the cabinet where he would be stored. It was a beauty: a pearl grey metal Triumph Metrix double-door model with fully-welded carcass construction for increased strength and stability, wardrobe-sized, just big enough to accommodate a person standing up. Tim stepped inside as I reassured him that the casing was scratch-resistant and anti-static. As I began to close the door he said, "What if I need to go to the toilet?" I smiled and said, "Inanimate objects don't need to go to the toilet", and closed and locked the door.

His first task in his new role was at a meeting where I was not present, so I heard about it from a colleague who chaired the meeting. The meeting room (1.3) didn't have a coat and hat stand, so Tim was required to, er, stand in. So he was fetched from his cupboard and told to stand, arms outstretched, in a corner of the room so people could hang their coats on it - I mean him. This he did, and he stood there for the entirety of the two and a half hour meeting, laden down with half a dozen coats (including a couple of heavy overcoats) and with two umbrellas inserted between his legs. I was quite impressed by his performance so went to Facilities to congratulate him. I opened the cupboard and Tim's gleaming eyes stared out at me blinking in the sudden light. There was a strong smell of urine. "Well done Tim! You're settling in to your new role very well." I then closed and locked the door and walked away. Did I hear sobbing? I think I imagined it.

A few days later we had two important clients turn up for a visit, but all our meeting rooms were booked so they had to use the break-out area, which had plenty of chairs but no tables. No problem; Tim was brought out and deployed as a table, kneeling on all fours between the two clients so they could rest their papers, laptops, cups of coffee etc on him. This wasn't a complete success - papers and laptops were okay, but Tim's back wasn't too level so there was some spillage of scalding hot coffee. I therefore requisitioned a section of appropriately-sized hardboard which could be strapped to Tim's back next time he needed to be used as a table.

The next task was even less satisfactory - in fact it resulted in disciplinary action. One afternoon we had an emergency all-staff meeting and despite using the biggest room (1.1) we ran out of chairs. A colleague went to get a chair from another meeting room but I intervened, and so Tim was fetched and deployed as a chair, again going down on hands and knees so that the delegate could sit. This worked very well indeed, until, an hour into the meeting, Tim's lisping voice was heard to splutter loudly, "This isn't much fun for me you know!" I apologised to all present, and bent down to order Tim to remain silent or face immediate dismissal.

Tim did stay quiet and after the meeting I took him into Room 2.2 for a quick chat. "What the FUCK did you think you were doing?" I shouted at him. "Chairs don't speak!" He started crying so I kicked him, hard, on the shin. He fell to the floor and started wailing. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, you CUNT" I screamed. "Chairs don't make any sounds AT ALL!" I kicked the chair next to him. "See? Nothing!" I spat on the chair and kicked it again, harder. "I can't hear anything - can you?!" His sobbing had subsided and he had crawled into a corner of the room and curled up into the foetal position. I loomed over him and hissed into his ear, "Chairs don't make any noise. I am going to hurt you again, and then spit on you, and you are NOT going to make a SOUND. Understand?" He just stared up at me through a face full of snot and tears. "UNDERSTAND?" I bellowed. He got the message and nodded, choking back another sob. So I kicked him in the stomach a few times, grabbed and savagely twisted his ears, stepped on his ankle until I could feel the bones start to crack, and then spat copiously in his face. To his credit, he remained completely silent through all this. I then helped him to his feet and shoved him limping from Room 2.2 back to his cupboard. After I closed and locked the door he banged and bashed from the inside, and I was worried that he might damage the cabinet, but the good people at Triumph Storage know their stuff, and soon the clamour subsided. I then went to the toilets for, yes, you guessed it, a well-deserved power wank.

I don't believe we treated Tim - I mean, our Facilities Support Unit - too harshly; well, not until we deployed it outside as a cycle-rack in mid-January and it contracted hypothermia and expired. Took us ages to get another one.

TL/DR - fuck off you lazy cunts, go back and read it.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 19 Jul 2013, 20:25, 11 replies)

Shut up and get back to work Tim.

( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Fri 19 Jul 2013, 21:55, closed)

once I did a poo, right, and it really fucking hurt, yeah
and there were flecks of blood in it, and this weird kind of scummy film on it and this spectral miasma of dungstench, ok?

I would willingly eat that whole stool and then drink the murky broth that jetted out behind it, yeah, than read a word of this drivel.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 19 Jul 2013, 21:58, closed)

Excruciating enough for you?
Ha ha!
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 19 Jul 2013, 23:32, closed)

I avoided reading this, lest it turn out to be another of your Doctor Who stories.
Later, I read it, and wished it had been one of your Doctor Who stories.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 19 Jul 2013, 23:58, closed)

No pleasing some people

(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sat 20 Jul 2013, 0:06, closed)

I enjoyed this
and have thus clicked the "I like this!" link to show that that is case.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sat 20 Jul 2013, 0:38, closed)

I liked this wonderful tale and believe it is a winner. For the rest of the cunts who liked it,
well they have no taste

I had a trained imbecile once upon a time but I used them for buying me booze and the occasional blow job or anal sex or both. I wish I had thought of the furniture angle, at the time I needed a hat stand.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sat 20 Jul 2013, 7:55, closed)

edgy.

( janet aylia y'all motherfuckers need jesus, Sat 20 Jul 2013, 16:07, closed)

Well, made me chuckle.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Sun 21 Jul 2013, 0:22, closed)

You might have done it as an edgy allusion but
beginning a post with 'As some of you may already know' leads some of us to think you are Ringo operating under a new alias.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Mon 22 Jul 2013, 0:50, closed)

Wronggg!
I said "as some of you may know" as I have posted before about my managament techniques and indeed reposted the links belowwwwiblekopajfaldfjaskldado who cares! Anyway I am not Ringo.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Mon 22 Jul 2013, 20:10, closed)