Tom Paris sighs and leans back in his somewhat ergonomic chair. He adjusts his tie and contemplates the grey, featureless walls of his cubicle. I've got to put some pictures up or something, he thinks.
Thunk! Tom glances up. In the adjoining cubicle, Tuvok has managed to lodge another pencil in the acoustic ceiling tiles. Tom calls out, "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye!" Tuvok merely grunts in reply.
Loosening his tie just a bit more, he puts his feet up on the modular desk and tries to read the report he has been staring at for the last hour. "Let's see," he starts reading. *This policy represents the implementation actions needed to refocus regional planning efforts on developing a new matrix by which to analyze and cross reference the core components required to meet...*
"Sngorkzck. . . " Tom snores, mouth open, head back. The front two legs of his chair are tipped precariously off the ground. Harry pops his head up over the edge of Tom's cubicle like a nervous groundhog.
"Tuvok!" Harry whispers harshly. "Hey, Tuvok!"
"What do you want, Fairy Kim." Tuvok's disembodied voice says from the far cubicle. Thunk! Another pencil sticks in the acoustic tiles.
"Tom's snoring again!" Harry whispers more loudly than necessary. "And stop calling me that." He tries to lob a spit wad into Tom's open mouth then looks nervously down the cubicle aisle. "Oh man, here comes the boss!"
"This should be good." Tuvok says in a disinterested voice.
"Tom!" Janeway barks as she strides up to his cubicle. "Have you finished that report?"
"Huh? Wha- ?" Tom starts awake, waving his arms helplessly as his chair tips over and he lands on his back. He tries to assume an innocent expression as he stares up at her from the floor. "I wasn't sleeping."
Janeway points a finger furiously down at him. "I want that report on my desk by 5, mister, or your ass is mine. You got that?"
Harry starts to snicker as soon as Janeway is out of earshot. "You are SO not getting that promotion, Tom."
"Hey!" Tom protests, struggling to his feet. "When Janeway reads my report- "
They are distracted by a commotion up at the front of the office. One angry voice gets louder and louder until, abruptly, it stops and a loud thud is heard. Tom urges, "Come on men, let's see what all the noise is about."
They walk surreptitiously up to the customer service desk to find Seven of Nine sitting there. She is filing her nails and snapping a large wad of chewing gum between her teeth. Without looking up from her nails, she says, "Do you require assistance?"
Eyeing the unconscious form of a large tattooed man slumped across the counter, Tom says "Uh, what happened Seven?"
Seven looks at them expressionlessly. She says, "Mr. Chakotay came in to dispute his bill. I told him he had insufficient evidence to validate the theory that he was overcharged and that he must pay the bill or his service would be terminated. He became irrate and verbally abusive so I struck him at the base of his skull with my stapler."
"Seven," Tom sighs tiredly. "That really isn't what they mean by improving employee/customer relations."
"He was not responding to logic." Seven says intensely, reaching out to grab the stapler. "This method of placating him was more efficient. I will demonstrate. . . "
All three men scramble to escape the customer service area. Seven captures Harry by wrapping one fist around his tie and yanking him to his knees.
As Tom and Tuvok flee down the aisle, they hear Harry begging "Please, Seven- " then an sharp thud. They exchange looks of naked horror and seek refuge in the copy room.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT!" Torres screams as they enter. She stands straddling the smoking remains of the Xerox machine, her eyes are wild and she has toner all over her face. She whirls away from them and starts shrieking incoherent Klingon curses while kicking the carcass of the copier.
"Well, ah, catch you later, babe." Tom says, as he and Tuvok back quickly out of the copy room and close the door behind them.
"Tom," says Tuvok raising an eyebrow in disgust. "I am quitting this job and I advise you to do the same."
"What?" Tom protests.
"Our supervisor is stiffling my creative talents, none of my projects are funded, and my colleagues are, to the best of my knowledge, idiots. At this rate, I will never be in a position to earn stock options." Tuvok stalks towards the exit.
"Don't be like that, Tuvok!" Tom calls out to the retreating Vulcan's back. "Neelix will be here to repair the Xerox machine later!"
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