<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;">Grady McKnobb was a man that had a fuse shorter than most, somewhere in the nanometer territory. His job was to go around the floor and just remind the employees they had no hope of advancement, of leaving, things like that. Well, officially his job was to actually just push around a cart full of office supplies and pick up things for people, but he didn't do that very often. He started at Mariska's desk, the wheel of his cart catching on the corner of her cubical and causing the wall to shake. It was no secret he fancied Mariska. Not that Mariska actually needed to see or feel the wheel catching, as his cheap cologne almost gave him away from an aisle over. He was fat, balding, had glasses thicker than battleship armor, had a nasaly voice that sounded like he shoved tampons up his nose, and breathed through his mouth in a way that you could hear him easily. His shirt was white but had faded stains that no amount of washing or even bleaching could fix, his pants were brown plaid, and he wore suspenders because he couldn't find a belt big enough to go around his waist. <br/><br/>"Huh, hi Mariska," he said, having heard her end the previous call. "I uh, was wondering if you'd like to uh... go in the copy room and let me feel up those tits? Heh heh heh." </span></span><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;">Sam Cunningham was in the next cubical to Belinda and stood up to stretch, catching the tail end of the call in the process. She poked her head around the cubical wall and listened, waiting for Belinda to get off the call before asking, "I don't get how you can sound so perky and cheerful all the time. Is there a secret? Because honestly, when they call up bitching and moaning, I just want to hang up on them or tell them off." She stifled a yawn and nodded her head towards the breakroom, "Anyway, wanna take a break with me and grab some coffee? I don't like going alone after Margaret in Accounting passed out from heat stroke last week."<br/><br/>Sam was tall at 6'-2", with dark red hair that bordered on brown. Her face was lightly freckled, and she wore a black t-shirt with "Gold's Gym" on it, hugging her toned form. She had a special exemption from HR that let her wear it since, in her words, "Finding a blouse to fit me is an absolute bitch". She wore professional looking pants, and a pair of combat boots because there was no policy in the handbook to prohibit them. She was also openly lesbian, and there were rumors she had the key to a storage closet where she liked to take the ladies she fancied.</span></span><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;">"Unfortunately, they are," came a voice from behind Tserin.<br/><br/>Behind her was a man in a light blue shirt and darker blue tie, leaning against the cubical. His lanyard said "Tom Hest, Training &amp; Support". He sipped his coffee and stepped further into the cubical, extending his hand, "Tom, I'm your trainer. Though, from appearances, it seems limp-dick Dave left you alone to deal with your first day without any support."<br/><br/>He sat on the edge of her desk, setting his cup of coffee down and taking on the air of someone who was about to give a lecture. "So, that first call had a few... issues. I'm sorry that you were thrown on your own and you seemed to do ok, except you seemed rather fixated on dick for some reason. I hope that it was just a slip up and not something you'll be obsessing over." <br/><br/>Unlike Dave, Tom was pretty good looking. Average height and build but he made up for it with short black hair and emerald green eyes with a handsome face. He focused on Tserin's face, not her body, and seemed to be watching her face for her reaction to his last statement. She could feel his eyes boring into her, and a pressure on the back of her mind, like a mild headache trying to form.</span></span>