Fic: Chuck vs. The Copy Machine
Author: rivlee
Title: Chuck vs. The Copy Machine
Rating: PG for language
Characters/Pairing: Vest, Chuck Grant, Kitty, Speirs, More. Gen. Kitty/Harry and Lip/Speirs implied.
Summary: Hell is other people. But mostly office tech.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the HBO mini-series. No disrespect or harm is meant or intended.
A/N: Unbeated. Every last mistake is mine. Ficlet of no plot but tons of character banter. And for anyone who has ever actually worked in an office.
It was a normal Tuesday morning at the Delta Eagle Consulting office, somewhere between Raleigh and Durham, North Carolina. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and Chuck Grant was cursing out Ian, the Staples Delivery Guy.
“What the fuck do you mean I have to assemble this?” he asked, gesturing to the refrigerator sized box which contained the office’s new scanner/copy machine.
“Sir, I just deliver the product. If you have any complaints, you need to contact your Sales Representative.”
“Bullshit,” Chuck said, “no company ever sells an assembly required copier. Not for something that can take up its own cubicle.”
“Sir, again, I just deliver the product to the customer,” Ian said. “If you would please sign on the screen.” He held out his tablet.
Chuck nodded. “Yeah, sorry, Ian. I know it’s not you, man, but who the hell even makes an assembly-required copier?”
Ian shrugged. “Off the record, I wouldn’t be surprised if you order got mixed up.”
“New people working in customer orders?” Chuck asked.
“A whole slew of summer interns.”
Chuck made a noise of sympathy. “Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee and a muffin before you go. Vest brought in a fresh batch of both.”
“Thanks, Chuck,” Ian said.
Chuck waved him off and stared back at the massive box and the booklet of instructions in his hand. It was time to send more than a few scathing e-mails.
******
“How long has he been at this?” Kitty asked. She’d come straight from the airport and was still in her traveling clothes, a ratty pair of jeans and one of Harry’s old Nirvana t-shirts.
“Well,” Allen Vest said from his place in the waiting room, “we’re clocking in at about three hours now.”
“And Ron’s done nothing to stop him?” Kitty asked as she reached over for a handful of M&M’s from the candy dish.
“Considering the fact Speirs was the one who slammed our last copier into the wall, I think it’s better for him to stay in his office and not shoot the damn thing. Or Chuck. You have no clue how hard it is to get bloodstains off of those blinds.”
Kitty shrugged and leaned against the foot of the leather chaise. She dug out one of her laptops and started to check her backlog of e-mails.
“You haven’t asked if Aunt Agatha’s come by yet,” Vest observed.
“Chuck’s not cursing about old biddies and there are no additional dents in the wall from her cane, so I figure I’ll just hide down here where no one can see me.” Kitty did sit up and look around the office. “Though, I do wonder where all our baby interns got to.”
“Janovec is running his own job--”
“Seriously,” Kitty interrupted.
“By playing chauffer for one of the Secretary of the Army’s nieces as she checks out the local colleges,” Vest continued.
“What’s she like.”
“Cardigan-wearing, Vera Bradley totting, pearls clutching Southern Belle but not Old Money enough for the Ivies,” Vest said.
Kitty looked up from her computer screen. “So after Janovec seduces her in the back of the town car, she’ll either be going to Duke or Wake Forest.”
“I’d try to give Carolina a chance, but she is not the public school type.”
“You make an appointment to get the town car cleaned?” Kitty asked.
Vest nodded. “And I’ve already doctored more than one fake death report for Janovec in case this affair gets out of hand.”
“And where are the other children?”
“Skinny took O’Keefe down with him to Miami.”
“Aww, is Tab going to help make O’Keefe a man?”
“I don’t want to think about that. He’s like, god, Kitty, he’s like Radar in M*A*S*H. I expect him to sleep with a teddy bear and nothing else.”
“Even Pinocchio had to become a real boy, Allen,” she said.
“Stop ruining my childhood, Catherine,” he replied. “And if you’re wondering where Jackson is, McClung sent him to New York to be devoured by Johnny Martin.”
“Good, maybe the kid will finally learn that gun safety isn’t just about Perco being worried over our insurance rates.” She grabbed another handful of candy. “McClung and Alton still on the night shift?’
“Yup,” Vest said. “They’re begging us to get more bodies in here, but so far, the only person Ron will even think about hiring is Lena.”
“Nah, she likes being a Judge Advocate General lawyer too much.”
“Which is why I am currently making a list for you to do your miracle background searches on.” Vest pulled out his IPhone. “You ever hear of a Henry Jones?”
“He’s not one of my cousins, if that’s what you’re asking, why?”
“Some West Point kid. He’s made an application inquiry.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ Mary And Joseph. This shit is not fucking kosher,” Chuck yelled.
Allen ducked the wrench that came flying into the room.
“Hey, you break those windows again, Grant, I will kill you,” Vest yelled back.
Kitty rolled her eyes and stood up. She walked over to Chuck and grabbed the tools and booklet out of his hands.
“I swear, I have to do every fucking thing for you boys. Who the hell orders an assembly required copier anyway?”
“I didn’t,” Chuck said. “The fucking rep screwed us.”
“Ahh, I love the sounds of curse words flying in the morning,” Ron said as he finally emerged from his office.
He looked like shit and Kitty told him so.
“Thank you, so much, Ms. Grogan-Welsh, I miss your kind words whenever you depart us.” He toed the mess of the copier parts. “Charles, did you speak with our rep?”
“I sent a ton of e-mails and called three times, but I’ve gotten no answers.”
“Right,” Ron said. He marched over to Chuck’s desk and flipped through the rolodex until he pulled up the right number.
Kitty and Grant backed up to where Vest was taking shelter behind the couch.
“You still have a whole stack of those phones in the supply closet, right?” Vest asked Chuck.
“After that time the fax machine jammed, you bet your ass,” he replied.
When Ron Speirs was truly pissed off, he barely raised his voice above a whisper. He’d only get louder on certain words, ones he meant to emphasize. Right now was one of those times, and the only words they could make out were jackass, ruin, choir of angels, and fare thee fucking well.
Ron slammed down the phone and walked over to the arrangement of couches and chairs.
“How many times have I told you three not to mess up that carpet. A military official tried to bribe me with it and I don’t need you damaging the strategically placed bullet holes.”
“You really do collect murder memorabilia, don’t you,” Chuck asked.
“Point being,” Ron said, “is that a fully assembled copier will be delivered by a friendly technician tonight, along with a new fax machine and a whole box full of post-its.” Ron grabbed a handful of peppermints. “I’m flying out to Carwood’s this afternoon. Try not to kill each other and burn down the office while I’m gone.”
“What about Aunt Agatha?” Kitty asked before Ron could pass through the door.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Ron asked as he grabbed his satchel. “She’s vacationing in France. Doing a winery tour. She won’t be back for another month.” He waved at them. “Be good, kids.”
******
Everyone was happy on Wednesday mornings, payday did that to people. Especially since Ron Speirs, for all his dead eyes and scare tactics, rewarded the performances of his workers with strong pay.
Kitty sat in the break room with her breakfast of a chicken biscuit and sweet tea, reveling in the stillness of an empty office.
More was still here, streamlining coffee as he tried to finish his after-action report of his last visit to the Tri-Border Area. It was one of the jobs they ran in-conjunction with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the only let the report filing slide for so long.
“I am so fucking tired,” Alton muttered into the surface of the kitchen table while the coffee percolated. “It’s like being in college all over again with a term paper due, except I’m too old for this shit now.”
Kitty smirked. “No one told you to wait until the last minute and spend all night playing Mob Wars.”
“Stop checking my internet logs,” Alton said.
“It’s my job,” Kitty answered.
“Oh,” Alton said as he sat down with a fresh cup, “the new copier came. Looks nice. Though I thought the guy was going to piss himself.”
“His boss got a personal message from Ron Speirs.”
“I love it when shit rolling downhill works in my favor.”
“You didn’t break it already, did you?” Kitty asked.
Alton smirked. “Nah, but after Vest told us about Chuckles’ hissy fit, we did put a paperclip in a strategic place.”
“You’re such an ass sometimes, Alton.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”
Kitty shrugged. “You know me too well.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Chuck yelled through the office.
Alton and Kitty held up their glasses in a toast.
Title: Chuck vs. The Copy Machine
Rating: PG for language
Characters/Pairing: Vest, Chuck Grant, Kitty, Speirs, More. Gen. Kitty/Harry and Lip/Speirs implied.
Summary: Hell is other people. But mostly office tech.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the HBO mini-series. No disrespect or harm is meant or intended.
A/N: Unbeated. Every last mistake is mine. Ficlet of no plot but tons of character banter. And for anyone who has ever actually worked in an office.
It was a normal Tuesday morning at the Delta Eagle Consulting office, somewhere between Raleigh and Durham, North Carolina. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and Chuck Grant was cursing out Ian, the Staples Delivery Guy.
“What the fuck do you mean I have to assemble this?” he asked, gesturing to the refrigerator sized box which contained the office’s new scanner/copy machine.
“Sir, I just deliver the product. If you have any complaints, you need to contact your Sales Representative.”
“Bullshit,” Chuck said, “no company ever sells an assembly required copier. Not for something that can take up its own cubicle.”
“Sir, again, I just deliver the product to the customer,” Ian said. “If you would please sign on the screen.” He held out his tablet.
Chuck nodded. “Yeah, sorry, Ian. I know it’s not you, man, but who the hell even makes an assembly-required copier?”
Ian shrugged. “Off the record, I wouldn’t be surprised if you order got mixed up.”
“New people working in customer orders?” Chuck asked.
“A whole slew of summer interns.”
Chuck made a noise of sympathy. “Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee and a muffin before you go. Vest brought in a fresh batch of both.”
“Thanks, Chuck,” Ian said.
Chuck waved him off and stared back at the massive box and the booklet of instructions in his hand. It was time to send more than a few scathing e-mails.
******
“How long has he been at this?” Kitty asked. She’d come straight from the airport and was still in her traveling clothes, a ratty pair of jeans and one of Harry’s old Nirvana t-shirts.
“Well,” Allen Vest said from his place in the waiting room, “we’re clocking in at about three hours now.”
“And Ron’s done nothing to stop him?” Kitty asked as she reached over for a handful of M&M’s from the candy dish.
“Considering the fact Speirs was the one who slammed our last copier into the wall, I think it’s better for him to stay in his office and not shoot the damn thing. Or Chuck. You have no clue how hard it is to get bloodstains off of those blinds.”
Kitty shrugged and leaned against the foot of the leather chaise. She dug out one of her laptops and started to check her backlog of e-mails.
“You haven’t asked if Aunt Agatha’s come by yet,” Vest observed.
“Chuck’s not cursing about old biddies and there are no additional dents in the wall from her cane, so I figure I’ll just hide down here where no one can see me.” Kitty did sit up and look around the office. “Though, I do wonder where all our baby interns got to.”
“Janovec is running his own job--”
“Seriously,” Kitty interrupted.
“By playing chauffer for one of the Secretary of the Army’s nieces as she checks out the local colleges,” Vest continued.
“What’s she like.”
“Cardigan-wearing, Vera Bradley totting, pearls clutching Southern Belle but not Old Money enough for the Ivies,” Vest said.
Kitty looked up from her computer screen. “So after Janovec seduces her in the back of the town car, she’ll either be going to Duke or Wake Forest.”
“I’d try to give Carolina a chance, but she is not the public school type.”
“You make an appointment to get the town car cleaned?” Kitty asked.
Vest nodded. “And I’ve already doctored more than one fake death report for Janovec in case this affair gets out of hand.”
“And where are the other children?”
“Skinny took O’Keefe down with him to Miami.”
“Aww, is Tab going to help make O’Keefe a man?”
“I don’t want to think about that. He’s like, god, Kitty, he’s like Radar in M*A*S*H. I expect him to sleep with a teddy bear and nothing else.”
“Even Pinocchio had to become a real boy, Allen,” she said.
“Stop ruining my childhood, Catherine,” he replied. “And if you’re wondering where Jackson is, McClung sent him to New York to be devoured by Johnny Martin.”
“Good, maybe the kid will finally learn that gun safety isn’t just about Perco being worried over our insurance rates.” She grabbed another handful of candy. “McClung and Alton still on the night shift?’
“Yup,” Vest said. “They’re begging us to get more bodies in here, but so far, the only person Ron will even think about hiring is Lena.”
“Nah, she likes being a Judge Advocate General lawyer too much.”
“Which is why I am currently making a list for you to do your miracle background searches on.” Vest pulled out his IPhone. “You ever hear of a Henry Jones?”
“He’s not one of my cousins, if that’s what you’re asking, why?”
“Some West Point kid. He’s made an application inquiry.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ Mary And Joseph. This shit is not fucking kosher,” Chuck yelled.
Allen ducked the wrench that came flying into the room.
“Hey, you break those windows again, Grant, I will kill you,” Vest yelled back.
Kitty rolled her eyes and stood up. She walked over to Chuck and grabbed the tools and booklet out of his hands.
“I swear, I have to do every fucking thing for you boys. Who the hell orders an assembly required copier anyway?”
“I didn’t,” Chuck said. “The fucking rep screwed us.”
“Ahh, I love the sounds of curse words flying in the morning,” Ron said as he finally emerged from his office.
He looked like shit and Kitty told him so.
“Thank you, so much, Ms. Grogan-Welsh, I miss your kind words whenever you depart us.” He toed the mess of the copier parts. “Charles, did you speak with our rep?”
“I sent a ton of e-mails and called three times, but I’ve gotten no answers.”
“Right,” Ron said. He marched over to Chuck’s desk and flipped through the rolodex until he pulled up the right number.
Kitty and Grant backed up to where Vest was taking shelter behind the couch.
“You still have a whole stack of those phones in the supply closet, right?” Vest asked Chuck.
“After that time the fax machine jammed, you bet your ass,” he replied.
When Ron Speirs was truly pissed off, he barely raised his voice above a whisper. He’d only get louder on certain words, ones he meant to emphasize. Right now was one of those times, and the only words they could make out were jackass, ruin, choir of angels, and fare thee fucking well.
Ron slammed down the phone and walked over to the arrangement of couches and chairs.
“How many times have I told you three not to mess up that carpet. A military official tried to bribe me with it and I don’t need you damaging the strategically placed bullet holes.”
“You really do collect murder memorabilia, don’t you,” Chuck asked.
“Point being,” Ron said, “is that a fully assembled copier will be delivered by a friendly technician tonight, along with a new fax machine and a whole box full of post-its.” Ron grabbed a handful of peppermints. “I’m flying out to Carwood’s this afternoon. Try not to kill each other and burn down the office while I’m gone.”
“What about Aunt Agatha?” Kitty asked before Ron could pass through the door.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Ron asked as he grabbed his satchel. “She’s vacationing in France. Doing a winery tour. She won’t be back for another month.” He waved at them. “Be good, kids.”
******
Everyone was happy on Wednesday mornings, payday did that to people. Especially since Ron Speirs, for all his dead eyes and scare tactics, rewarded the performances of his workers with strong pay.
Kitty sat in the break room with her breakfast of a chicken biscuit and sweet tea, reveling in the stillness of an empty office.
More was still here, streamlining coffee as he tried to finish his after-action report of his last visit to the Tri-Border Area. It was one of the jobs they ran in-conjunction with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the only let the report filing slide for so long.
“I am so fucking tired,” Alton muttered into the surface of the kitchen table while the coffee percolated. “It’s like being in college all over again with a term paper due, except I’m too old for this shit now.”
Kitty smirked. “No one told you to wait until the last minute and spend all night playing Mob Wars.”
“Stop checking my internet logs,” Alton said.
“It’s my job,” Kitty answered.
“Oh,” Alton said as he sat down with a fresh cup, “the new copier came. Looks nice. Though I thought the guy was going to piss himself.”
“His boss got a personal message from Ron Speirs.”
“I love it when shit rolling downhill works in my favor.”
“You didn’t break it already, did you?” Kitty asked.
Alton smirked. “Nah, but after Vest told us about Chuckles’ hissy fit, we did put a paperclip in a strategic place.”
“You’re such an ass sometimes, Alton.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”
Kitty shrugged. “You know me too well.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Chuck yelled through the office.
Alton and Kitty held up their glasses in a toast.