Categories > Original > Humor

Proper Business Etiquette

by Gai 2 reviews

A look into a future where business has overrun the world.

Category: Humor - Rating: PG - Genres: Humor, Parody, Sci-fi - Published: 2005-12-16 - Updated: 2005-12-17 - 1133 words - Complete

I just want to say first that this story sucks. Or at least I think so. I was writing a story, a better story,for someone I knew, but I wrote this up at the last minute and sent it to him as a joke. You should be able to tell why it took me so little time to write.
Thomas Sanders was what would appear to be an ordinary man. Because in truth he was. He ran a modest little restaurant on the edge of town, and lived a relatively simple life.
It was, like Thomas, an ordinary Thursday morning as he woke from his bed, an expensive top of the line brand he had purchased after hearing about the dangers of springs on television. He began to set up the restaurant, which he ran by himself, finding trouble hiring part-time workers who would sooner work at a fast food restaurant for 15 cents an hour more(something he unfortunately could not afford). True, he couldn't quite compete in advertising like the nearby restaurants, but he relied more on good service, clean food, and the comforting thought that customers would not have to worry about whether or not employees spat in their food. He was nearly done cleaning up, when he received a knock at the front door.

"Who could that be?", Thomas wondered aloud, when, unlike other restaurants that had countless employees willing to work the nightshift for them, he didn't open up for another couple hours. He headed to the door, only to find two of the city's finest waiting for him.

"Good morning, officers," Thomas warmly greeted them, "what can I help you with today?"

"Cut the crap, Sanders!" the first not so politely started. "We're here to have a little talk with you." Thomas was quite taken aback, to say the least.

"I'm sorry to waste your time, sir. Is there something I've done wrong?" inquired Thomas.

"More like what haven't you done," said the second cop. "We're aware that you haven't applied for theft insurance."

"Oh yes, I'm sorry to say that I just couldn't afford that at the present time," explained Thomas, "I'm afraid my restaraunt hasn't been doing so well."

"That's not wise, Sanders," barked the first officer. "Something bad could happen, you know, that's why we have theft insurance for businesses like your's."

"I'm well aware of that, sir, and I truly wish I could afford to be covered," began Thomas, "It's just that, financially, I've been having some troubles with this place. I truly would like to purchase insurance, but for now, I fear I'll simply have to take my chances."

"There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding here," the second man ominously stated, "you seem to think you have a choice in this matter."

"You see, Sanders, theft insurance is meant to see to it that nothing bad happens to you," the first continued for his partner. "True, nothing's happened to you yet, but we can't guarantee that things will be that good for long..."

"But, I..." Sanders desperately began, before being cut off.

"Look, Sanders, if you want to run a place like this, you'd better get protection," the first cop proceeded to say threateningly. "Otherwise, you can bet something bad's going to happen."

As if to make his point, the terrifying man smashed a nearby glass against the wall. With that, the two 'protectors of the people' left.

"Oh, dear..." Thomas said to himself, slumping to the floor in misery.

How long he sat there before he was interrupted from his thoughts was uknown, but Thomas had more pressing matters, such as the young man in a well-kept suit that stood before him.

"Mr. Sanders, I'm here to talk to you about your establishment," the almost boy began. "I don't quite know how to put this, but we've been looking at your monthly profits, and it hasn't been looking good..."

"What?" Thomas asked. "I wasn't aware there was anything wrong with my restaraunt, though admittedly it hasn't been the best-selling one in town."

"You just said it yourself, it's not selling well, and yet you think there's nothing wrong?" countered the young man. "Mr. Sanders, we like to encourage the emergence of small businesses, wherever they may arise, but you have to realize that we take certain risks when selling land, thus we must make sure that new business owners we involve ourselves with are performing a satisfactory job."

"But, I've been working harder than I ever have in my entire life in the past few months to renovate this place!," began Thomas desperately, "You have to give me time, it's still new!"

"We've given you all the time you need," said the suit-clad man, "and so far your establishment has performed horribly. One month, Mr. Sanders. If your business has not increased in profit by 300 within one month, we shall be forced to discontinue your contract."

"Please, don't do this to me!" Thomas begged, "I put you through college!"

"Let's not involve personal relations with business, Father," said the young man, before leaving through the door.

At this point, Thomas Sanders began to openly weep, sobbing into his hands at the thought of losing everything he'd worked so hard for. As he continued to cry, a knock was heard at the door, and as he looked up, Thomas saw through the window a kind looking man with a calm, smiling face.

"I'm sorry, sir," Thomas apologized as he opened the door, "We don't open until eight."

"Oh, I know," said the smiling man as he drew a gun. "The ony business I want with you is the money you've made, which I'd greatly appreciate if you would hand it over."

"But I don't have any money with me, it's already been deposited in the bank," Thomas fearfully explained.

And with that, the ever-present smile did fade from the man's face. "Why, that's a shame. Then it seems I'll have to kill you."

"What? No, please!" Thomas pleaded, "Let me live, I beg of you!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you off with a warning," the mugger explained, "who's to say you wouldn't let it happen again?" And without another word, the man fired into Thomas Sander's chest, before rushing out of the scene of the crime.

"Alright, Sanders, we warned you of the consequences," said the angry cop and his partner, as they returned to the restaruant, crow bars in hand.

"Now we're going to show you why..." began the second officer, before trailing off at the sight of the dying Thomas that lay on the floor.

"Looks like he should've gotten insurance." said the first officer, speaking for the first time without a sneer on his face, before turning and leaving alongside his partner.

The End
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