Return Policy (WIP) - 1 of 10
Title: RETURN POLICY
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Clark/Lex
Summary: Who knew they kept track of those pesky returns? They do; when the company is owned by Lex Luthor.
Spoilers: For Episode - Pilot.
Warnings: None
The characters of Smallville belong to DC Comics, Gough and Millar and whomever wants to claim them. No merchandise was damaged during the fic. AU ahead.
Discussion: I am finally getting back to writing. My muses are back and raring to go. Hopefully the wanderers will sit for a bit and let me complete some fic. This is definitely a WIP. I am trying/planning/hoping to post one section weekly.
Customer Service
Vitton's Outlet
Mass Pike
Weston, MA 00002
(Dear Customer Service)
Dearest Mel,
As you know, through our previous correspondence, I hold Vitton's to a higher standard. Surely a company that has been around for over a hundred years has had long enough to get it right. It is true that this particular branch is an outlet operation, but that should not serve as reason to lower your standards. However, as in the past I have to return an item because of shoddy workmanship.
Enclosed please find a DVD I recently purchased which has been irreparably damaged. In the good old days, all items were made with an eye for quality and it is unconscionable that Vitton's does not use plastic strong enough to withstand a dog's teethmarks.
Please provide a replacement for my tape of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace and suggest to your research and development department that their next project should be trying to increase the durability of DVD's.
Sincerely,
C. Kent
PS: Thanks for the replacement toaster. I have taken your suggestion to put only standard slices of bread into the toaster slot and that has worked out marvelously.
PPS: Have you had the R&D department begin work on expanding those narrow slots so that one may toast super puffy pretzels?
PPPS: How's the pregnancy going? Isn't it almost time for you to deliver the twins?
Mel pushed away from her cluttered desk and rolled back in her task chair far enough to look into the cubicle next to hers. "Another letter from Clark Kent."
Cameron Greylock did not turn away from his computer screen. "I've told you before, Mel, you shouldn't indulge him."
"Aw, Cam, he's some ninety year old geezer and hasn't quite got the hang of disposable as a concept. He remembers the good old days and thinks that things should last forever." Mel sighed and rubbed her stomach. "Damn, I remember the good old days. I used to be able to see my feet."
Fingers still flying across the keyboard, Cam's answer was amused, "I'd forget them if I were you. You're about to have twins and there's no going back to the good old days."
Melissa rolled her chair back into her cubicle and shuffled around on her desk. Pushing back, she said, "Hey Cam."
"Yes?" Cam turned to look at his officemate.
"I don't care about the others, but I alerted the mailroom that any letters from CK will come to you. You'll treat him right, OK?"
"Mel, I'm still not convinced he's some kindly grandfather in the midwest. I think he's abusing our returns policy." Seeing the mutinous set to Melissa's face, Cam amended his words if not his thoughts, "But, I will treat him as the kindly old grandfather you think he is."
Melissa rolled back into her cubicle on her task chair and shuffled around on her desk. Pushing away again she called, "Cam."
Turning to look at his friend, he answered, "Yes."
"Here." Melissa thrust a page of elegant beige stationery and a mangled DVD at Cam - apparently those dogs had very sharp incisors and strong jaws. "I think you're right about those good old days, because from where I'm sitting, some brand new days are starting now. The babies are coming."
Snatching the items from her, Cam dropped them on his desk. He would deal with the old geezer who lived in the heartland tomorrow. Right now he needed to get Melissa to a hospital immediately.
Bob Duerbeck ran his eyes up the columns and then ran them across just to double-check although he knew it was unnecessary. Duerbeck had two passions in life: his wife Dahlia and numbers. In fact Duerbeck could make numbers dance for him; he was such a virtuoso accountant. Thankfully he had never turned to a life of crime though some would say he did, simply because he worked for Luthor.
Tapping his flat panel screen, Duerbeck smiled, he had finally pinned down the persistent discrepancy that had been plaguing his books ever since his boss had acquired Vitton's. Sighing happily, Bob thought that he would be able to give his report to the boss and get out of work at his customary six o'clock. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. Dahlia was making meatloaf tonight and he never missed that.
He dialed 331 on the phone.
"Head Office."
"Hello, Charity. Would it be possible for me to come up and see Mr. Luthor? I've discovered what's causing the 14.7% yearly loss at Vitton's."
"Did you win the bet?"
"Yes! He didn’t think I could track it down. But I found it." Bob Duerbeck replied happily. "He promised Dahlia a trip to Paris to study with a French chef. Dahlia was so excited. Not that she needs any improvement on her skills."
Charity's noncommital 'hmmm' went a long way to explaining why she was still employed by Lex. Never let it be said that she burst Duerbeck's bubble that what his wife produced in her kitchen had anything to do with food, as humans knew it. Her voice came back clearly across the line. "He's free right now, Bob. Come on by."
Grabbing his spreadsheets and the report from theexchange.com, Bob Duerbeck went to claim his prize for Dahlia.
Ten minutes later, he wasn't sure if he would survive leaving the room. He had shown Lex Luthor his figures. Took him through the tracking of the consistent loss Vitton's had experienced for the last seven years. And finally he showed him the report from theexchange.com which tracked returns and singled out offenders who were habitual returnees of merchandise.
Lex Luthor's voice was icy and eerily calm. "Let me understand this clearly, Bob. You're telling me that the town of Smallville and the Kents in particular are responsible for returned merchandise."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Luthor." Duerbeck swallowed. "The Kents are the worst offenders, but the Rosses, Sullivans, Tuckers, Malones and quite a few others are very active offenders also. It was less than 1% fifteen years ago. But in the past seven years it’s been holding at 14.7%."
Lex drummed his fingers on the glass desk. "I wanted Vitton’s so I overlooked certain irregularities. I knew the company was undervalued and I paid accordingly, but I will not tolerate a continued drain on my business."
"Vitton’s has a generous return policy," Bob contributed helpfully. "You might want to address-".
A snort was the only response to that idea before Lex clarified, "If we have to maintain the veneer of New England steadfastness and reliability, as well as compete with other sporting goods stores in this neck of the woods, we have to keep that return policy."
Clearly pulling himself together, Lex Luthor extended his hand and shook Bob Duerbeck's hand. "Thank you, Bob. I'll have Charity make the arrangements for you and your wife to travel to Paris. I still remember my last meal at your house and I know that Dahlia will surprise Bertrand with her recipes."
"Thanks, Mr. Luthor. My Dahlia is a wonderful cook. I'm lucky to have her." The wince from Lex who thought that Bob was doing the world a favor by eating all Dahlia's offerings, went unnoticed by the accountant who nodded at the spreadsheet gripped tightly in Luthor's left hand.
Duerbeck asked, "What'll you do now, sir?"
The smirk that graced Lex Luthor's face sent a shiver down Bob Duerbeck's spine. "Do, Bob?" Luthor paused from dramatic effect. "Well, I'll be visiting Vitton's this evening to put a ‘modified’ return policy in place. Then I’ll be sending someone to Smallville to investigate what’s so special about that town that it's worth almost 15% of my profits yearly. I think I should stop this drain on my company, don't you?"
"Err, yes, sir, Mr. Luthor." The accountant observed his boss carefully.
The quieter Luthor became, the more dangerous it was to be near him and that twist of his lips boded no good for anyone. That old saying, ‘Walk softly and carry a big stick.’ should be amended to, ‘Talk softly and wield maximum damage.’ when referring to Lex Luthor. Something told him that Smallville and the Kents, etcetera, were going to regret coming to Luthor’s attention. But for now Dahlia’s exceptional meatloaf was waiting. With a muttered farewell Bob Duerbeck escaped quickly.
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Clark/Lex
Summary: Who knew they kept track of those pesky returns? They do; when the company is owned by Lex Luthor.
Spoilers: For Episode - Pilot.
Warnings: None
The characters of Smallville belong to DC Comics, Gough and Millar and whomever wants to claim them. No merchandise was damaged during the fic. AU ahead.
Discussion: I am finally getting back to writing. My muses are back and raring to go. Hopefully the wanderers will sit for a bit and let me complete some fic. This is definitely a WIP. I am trying/planning/hoping to post one section weekly.
Customer Service
Vitton's Outlet
Mass Pike
Weston, MA 00002
(Dear Customer Service)
Dearest Mel,
As you know, through our previous correspondence, I hold Vitton's to a higher standard. Surely a company that has been around for over a hundred years has had long enough to get it right. It is true that this particular branch is an outlet operation, but that should not serve as reason to lower your standards. However, as in the past I have to return an item because of shoddy workmanship.
Enclosed please find a DVD I recently purchased which has been irreparably damaged. In the good old days, all items were made with an eye for quality and it is unconscionable that Vitton's does not use plastic strong enough to withstand a dog's teethmarks.
Please provide a replacement for my tape of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace and suggest to your research and development department that their next project should be trying to increase the durability of DVD's.
Sincerely,
C. Kent
PS: Thanks for the replacement toaster. I have taken your suggestion to put only standard slices of bread into the toaster slot and that has worked out marvelously.
PPS: Have you had the R&D department begin work on expanding those narrow slots so that one may toast super puffy pretzels?
PPPS: How's the pregnancy going? Isn't it almost time for you to deliver the twins?
Mel pushed away from her cluttered desk and rolled back in her task chair far enough to look into the cubicle next to hers. "Another letter from Clark Kent."
Cameron Greylock did not turn away from his computer screen. "I've told you before, Mel, you shouldn't indulge him."
"Aw, Cam, he's some ninety year old geezer and hasn't quite got the hang of disposable as a concept. He remembers the good old days and thinks that things should last forever." Mel sighed and rubbed her stomach. "Damn, I remember the good old days. I used to be able to see my feet."
Fingers still flying across the keyboard, Cam's answer was amused, "I'd forget them if I were you. You're about to have twins and there's no going back to the good old days."
Melissa rolled her chair back into her cubicle and shuffled around on her desk. Pushing back, she said, "Hey Cam."
"Yes?" Cam turned to look at his officemate.
"I don't care about the others, but I alerted the mailroom that any letters from CK will come to you. You'll treat him right, OK?"
"Mel, I'm still not convinced he's some kindly grandfather in the midwest. I think he's abusing our returns policy." Seeing the mutinous set to Melissa's face, Cam amended his words if not his thoughts, "But, I will treat him as the kindly old grandfather you think he is."
Melissa rolled back into her cubicle on her task chair and shuffled around on her desk. Pushing away again she called, "Cam."
Turning to look at his friend, he answered, "Yes."
"Here." Melissa thrust a page of elegant beige stationery and a mangled DVD at Cam - apparently those dogs had very sharp incisors and strong jaws. "I think you're right about those good old days, because from where I'm sitting, some brand new days are starting now. The babies are coming."
Snatching the items from her, Cam dropped them on his desk. He would deal with the old geezer who lived in the heartland tomorrow. Right now he needed to get Melissa to a hospital immediately.
Bob Duerbeck ran his eyes up the columns and then ran them across just to double-check although he knew it was unnecessary. Duerbeck had two passions in life: his wife Dahlia and numbers. In fact Duerbeck could make numbers dance for him; he was such a virtuoso accountant. Thankfully he had never turned to a life of crime though some would say he did, simply because he worked for Luthor.
Tapping his flat panel screen, Duerbeck smiled, he had finally pinned down the persistent discrepancy that had been plaguing his books ever since his boss had acquired Vitton's. Sighing happily, Bob thought that he would be able to give his report to the boss and get out of work at his customary six o'clock. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. Dahlia was making meatloaf tonight and he never missed that.
He dialed 331 on the phone.
"Head Office."
"Hello, Charity. Would it be possible for me to come up and see Mr. Luthor? I've discovered what's causing the 14.7% yearly loss at Vitton's."
"Did you win the bet?"
"Yes! He didn’t think I could track it down. But I found it." Bob Duerbeck replied happily. "He promised Dahlia a trip to Paris to study with a French chef. Dahlia was so excited. Not that she needs any improvement on her skills."
Charity's noncommital 'hmmm' went a long way to explaining why she was still employed by Lex. Never let it be said that she burst Duerbeck's bubble that what his wife produced in her kitchen had anything to do with food, as humans knew it. Her voice came back clearly across the line. "He's free right now, Bob. Come on by."
Grabbing his spreadsheets and the report from theexchange.com, Bob Duerbeck went to claim his prize for Dahlia.
Ten minutes later, he wasn't sure if he would survive leaving the room. He had shown Lex Luthor his figures. Took him through the tracking of the consistent loss Vitton's had experienced for the last seven years. And finally he showed him the report from theexchange.com which tracked returns and singled out offenders who were habitual returnees of merchandise.
Lex Luthor's voice was icy and eerily calm. "Let me understand this clearly, Bob. You're telling me that the town of Smallville and the Kents in particular are responsible for returned merchandise."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Luthor." Duerbeck swallowed. "The Kents are the worst offenders, but the Rosses, Sullivans, Tuckers, Malones and quite a few others are very active offenders also. It was less than 1% fifteen years ago. But in the past seven years it’s been holding at 14.7%."
Lex drummed his fingers on the glass desk. "I wanted Vitton’s so I overlooked certain irregularities. I knew the company was undervalued and I paid accordingly, but I will not tolerate a continued drain on my business."
"Vitton’s has a generous return policy," Bob contributed helpfully. "You might want to address-".
A snort was the only response to that idea before Lex clarified, "If we have to maintain the veneer of New England steadfastness and reliability, as well as compete with other sporting goods stores in this neck of the woods, we have to keep that return policy."
Clearly pulling himself together, Lex Luthor extended his hand and shook Bob Duerbeck's hand. "Thank you, Bob. I'll have Charity make the arrangements for you and your wife to travel to Paris. I still remember my last meal at your house and I know that Dahlia will surprise Bertrand with her recipes."
"Thanks, Mr. Luthor. My Dahlia is a wonderful cook. I'm lucky to have her." The wince from Lex who thought that Bob was doing the world a favor by eating all Dahlia's offerings, went unnoticed by the accountant who nodded at the spreadsheet gripped tightly in Luthor's left hand.
Duerbeck asked, "What'll you do now, sir?"
The smirk that graced Lex Luthor's face sent a shiver down Bob Duerbeck's spine. "Do, Bob?" Luthor paused from dramatic effect. "Well, I'll be visiting Vitton's this evening to put a ‘modified’ return policy in place. Then I’ll be sending someone to Smallville to investigate what’s so special about that town that it's worth almost 15% of my profits yearly. I think I should stop this drain on my company, don't you?"
"Err, yes, sir, Mr. Luthor." The accountant observed his boss carefully.
The quieter Luthor became, the more dangerous it was to be near him and that twist of his lips boded no good for anyone. That old saying, ‘Walk softly and carry a big stick.’ should be amended to, ‘Talk softly and wield maximum damage.’ when referring to Lex Luthor. Something told him that Smallville and the Kents, etcetera, were going to regret coming to Luthor’s attention. But for now Dahlia’s exceptional meatloaf was waiting. With a muttered farewell Bob Duerbeck escaped quickly.