Isis Headquarters, A Couple of Days Later or Whatever, Friday Fandom Time (NFI, NFB)
Pam
The morning briefing was not going very well.
"Okay," Pam said, reading from a clipboard. "The good news is: most of that big old bloodstain came out."
Considering Malory had wanted all of it out, Pam probably needed to re-evaluate her definition of "good news."
Malory
"Most?" Malory repeated incredulously. "Most? If it's not all gone, Pam, you didn't try hard enough. Or do I need to call some Mexican with a mop to get anything cleaned properly around here?"
Pam
"Okay, one, the Mexican ladies couldn't get it out, either," said Pam, patiently. "And two, you didn't let me finish."
She glanced at her clipboard again, remembering abruptly that the rest of the news was, well.
"... so, uh, this is probably a bad time for the bad news."
Malory
"I really don't see how this could get any worse," Malory exclaimed, ever the soul of understatement.
Pam
"Ooooooookay, try this one for size," Pam said. "That school isn't gonna let us come back. Brett was the one who had certification in gun safety, and he's on a one-month sabbatical from his doctor for getting shot."
Brett's doctor had sounded suspiciously like Brett doing a falsetto voice from a bar, but HR policy was to not question calls from doctors.
"And before you ask, I called all sorts of other schools," she continued. "Like, every single one in the tri-state area. I'm not accredited to teach jack shit, and they're not biting."
Malory
"What about beyond the tri-state area?" Malory demanded, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I'm not losing my tax credit because of Brett."
Pam
"I called," Pam sighed. "It's like you're not hearing me. Any place higher ranked than a Tijuana medical school wants teachers that actually passed some kind of teaching class. The only place even remotely interested was ..."
She squinted at the paper. "Some boarding school in podunk, Maryland, which oughta tell you how hard up they are for faculty."
Malory
"Pack," Malory said immediately, curtly. "I hear it's very cold in Maryland this time of year, so be sure to take a few tarps to wear outside."
Cheryl
"Nuh uh!" Cheryl's voice screeched in before she appeared in the doorway herself. "How come Pam gets to go? I can teach a class, too!"
No, she couldn't. She seriously could not.
Pam
"Nobody's going anywhere, bird legs," Pam announced to her quasi-best friend, before turning her attention back to her boss. "Okay, I get that you're all menopausal and crazed from Mr. Archer being gone, but you're really not thinking this through. You send me out of the state, you're gonna have to pay gas mileage, and that's one hell of a commute. It's gonna eat up whatever kickback you're getting on your taxes in, like, the second week."
See? Occasionally, Pam knew things. Like, actual monetary financial things. Weren't you all impressed?
Malory
"It's not a long commute if you move there," Malory pointed out, shrugging. "It isn't as though we have much for you to do right now, anyway. Wouldn't you rather work in Maryland than, oh, be out of a job?"
There wasn't much to do because Malory's son wasn't around causing sexual harassment claims on a daily basis. But that was neither here nor there.
Pam
"I have a newsletter to write!" Pam protested. Not that anyone read it. "And you can't just send me to Maryland! I'll quit!"
Please. Like she was qualified to do anything else.
Cheryl
"I'll go, I'll go!" Cheryl said, waving her arm like Malory wouldn't see her. "Pam always gets to do everything."
Malory
"But then who would answer my phone?" Malory sniffed. "Pam is useless. You are only mostly useless."
Cheryl
"Anyone could answer the phone!" Cheryl argued, standing up to seize an opportunity when she saw one. Cyril was walking by, oblivious to their conversation, with a folder in his hand.
Cheryl strode over and smacked the folder from his hand.
"Heeyyyy, those are -- "
"Hold this," Cheryl said bossily, shoving the phone from her desk into his hand. "See? Cyril could even do it."
Because he was able to hold a phone.
Pam
"Glue-for-brains, why do you even want to go to Maryland?" Pam asked. "It's some kind of business class. You'd have to deal with little kids. You hate kids."
Unless she thought she was knocked up with a mixed-race one. That usually cheered her up.
Cheryl
"Yeah but I like, never get to go on field trips," Cheryl whined. "Unless I'm stowing away. Or I own the train."
Malory
"What would you even teach?" Malory wondered, rolling her eyes. "Gun Safety: Oh Wait, Just Kidding, Bang Bang?"
Pam
"Getting High on Office Supplies 101?" Pam suggested. "Aw, Ms. Archer, just send her. I have enough trouble paying rent on my shithole apartment without needing to get some shack in the backwoods of Maryland."
It wasn't like they were paid a living wage. Please.
Malory
"Send Cheryl by herself?" Malory said dryly. "That place would be a cinderbox within hours and I'd get stuck with the insurance claim. No, both of you go. You can teach...human resourcing."
Or something.
Cheryl
"I'll get us a house there," Cheryl added, as one might say, "I'll buy you something from the vending machine."
Pam
Pam made the sort of grumbling noise that acknowledged that she was beaten, here, and would probably give in, but was going to have a good, solid sulk first.
"I'd better get a raise for this," she said.
Hahahaha. Yeah. And maybe Brett wouldn't get shot so many times.
(Warning: okay so this time we're going to warn for: racism, discussion of some guy getting shot, fat-shaming, skinny-shaming, discussion of drug use, sexual harassment lawsuits, and arson. I think that's it? Part 2 of 2, preplayed with the lovely notmysupervisor. NFI, NFB, OOC is love.)