Amalgamated Humor's Disgruntled Employee of the Month

Each month, Amalgamated Humor's Public Relations specialist, Gary Newbrunswick, puts the spotlight on a valued member of the Amalgamated Humor corporate family. In addition to an extra vacation day and photo with a receptionist from the executive office, they also get a featured interview.

November's Disgruntled Employee of the Month: T.R. Hastings

Gary Newbrunswick: T.R., thanks for taking time out for our readers and employees. As security chief, I imagine you're rather busy these days.

T.R. Hastings
Due to security concerns, Mr. Hastings has cordered that his photo be altered
Amalgamated Humor Archives

T.R. Hastings: Is that some kind of joke, Newbrunswick?

GN: What? No, no- I just imagine that, given our current situation in the country and all, your line of work might be a little stressful these days.

TH: *sigh* See, civilians like you have no idea. You sit up here, all safe and have no idea.

GN: Um, okay. So, uh, have you taken any new precautions around here?

TH: I can't discuss that.

GN: What?

TH: I can't tell you what covert measures are being taken to ensure the safety of this facility.

GN: Well. How, uh, how about non covert um, "operations?" Things that may affect folks' day to day jobs.

TH: I suppose I can divulge some non-essential items. Purely on a case by case basis, of course.

GN: Okay, um, mail. Are you taking any special precautions?

TH: All I can say is we're beginning a process to irradiate the mail to kill off any possible biological agents.

GN: Oh, okay, low level electron bombardment, like what the US government is doing?

TH: Oh, no, no. Plutonium. In a box.

GN: Wait- plutonium, isn't that deadly?

TH: So is anthrax, Gary. You don't like anthrax, do you?

GN: No, of course not. I-

TH: Attendant to that, we will also be requiring all employees to place their hands into a lead-lined box with a measured amount of plutonium upon entering and exiting the facility each day, so as to kill any possible risk.

GN: Hold on- they'll have to touch plutonium?

TH: Of course not, just place their hands in a box containing a measured amount. It just gives this kind of buzzing feeling.

GN: Hm. I don't know if that's such a good idea, actually.

TH: Jesus, you know, it's people like you with your liberal crap that shoots down ideas like employee bar code ID tattoos and chip implants.

GN: What was that?

TH: I can't discuss that right now. We're just taking those ideas under advisement.

GN: Okay, then how about the new policy of towing cars from the employee and visitor parking lot?

TH: Yes. I felt it would be best to lower risk to the plant by having all unoccupied vehicles removed from company property.

GN: Removed to where, exactly? Because, well, I went out at lunch and it was missing, along with everyone else's.

TH: They were removed to a local processing facility, whose location I am not at liberty to disclose, where they will be thoroughly inspected and disposed of.

GN: Disposed of? What do you mean?

TH: They will be compressed and melted down into component parts. We will provide busses for people to go and retrieve their property at the start of next week.

GN: My car? You've destroyed my car?

TH: Along with everyone else's, yes.

GN: How could you?

TH: Well, how could you and your little cronies put this company at risk with such a flagrant erosion of security?

GN: It's just driving my car to work! What about, say Mr. White and Brockie's cars? I suppose you didn't destroy those, did you?

TH: No.

GN: Big surprise. I see how it is.

TH: Mr. White has been sealed in his office with a private air supply since 7 October, in order to preserve the chain of command.

GN: What? Mr. Brockie and Mr. White?

TH: No, Mr. Brockie was not seen to be a necessary recipient of Level 6 security pocedure.

GN:"Level 6 security pocedure?" What the hell is that?

TH: I cannot disclose any more.

GN: Listen- isn't this all a bit overkill? I mean, who's coming after us, anyway? We're a humor comapny.

TH: (speaking into lapel) Zed 9, Zed 9, we have a Johnny Delta, repeat a Johnny Delta, over.

GN: Johnny Delta?

(noise as security personnel enter room, escort Newbrunswick away)

TH: Security risk level ten. We'll clear you soon enough.

GN: What? Where are you taking me?

TH: You didn't used to have a moustache, did you?

GN: What does that have to do with anything? Hey, put that-

(tape erased after 11:08:50:00)

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