fandomhigh | Seven Secrets to Success - Wednesday, 5/13

Rimmer was waiting in the Danger Shop, back stiff and smile smug. The room was set up like the average classroom, with desks and two #2 pencils on each. A copy of the syllabus lay in the exact center of each one, printed out crisp and fresh this morning. If there was a typo (or a complete nervous breakdown) on the sheet, he hadn't noticed as he'd been busy making sure that everything was perfect for his first class.

As soon as he saw his students, he knew that wasn't going to happen. Regardless, he was determined to soldier on, to shape these miscreants into proper Space Corps recruits even if they weren't in the Space Corps.

"Welcome," he said with overblown magnanimity, marching across the room in front of the students, "to Seven Secrets of Success. All of you are here because you want to succeed. You're not willing to settle for... for what life hands you, no" and he turned sharply on his heel to stare at them, "you're looking for more. Up up up the ziggurat, as I always say. You're looking to make the world look up to you. You're looking to make people say 'there's the kind of man I want running my ship; there's a son that I can be proud of; there's a man I'd sleep with sans head injury!'."

He realized he might have gone just a bit far afield and thus took the opportunity to spin again and continue towards the other side of the room.

"So! We will be doing introductions, obviously, but to show you just how accomplished your instructor is, you'll be getting not one secret, but two:

"Getting Straight To Work, one of the most important things to remember if you'd like to succeed. And the other, well," he smirked with hidden knowledge, "you'll just have to see when we get there."

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He beamed, leaning back in his seat. Even his H seemed to be gleaming a little.

And Mister Rimmer sounded so good when it wasn't coming out of that smegpot android in his smarmy I'd-practically-be-an-American-if-I-wasn't-a-robotic-butler voice.

"Very good, Wexler, very good. Always take an offer for advancement, that's what I say."

He lifted his chin a little.

"I expect you here at least ten minutes before class next week to attend to your duties. They shouldn't be anything you can handle, I don't think. Anything else?"

Turtle quirked a slight eyebrow. "What exactly would me duties be?" she asked, wondering if 'advancement' was the right word at all.

"A bit of typing, printing; the arrangment of any necessary props or aides we might be using for the day."

He tilted his chin down and looked up at her.

"I trust none of that should be too arduous for you?"

Well, Turtle reasoned to herself, one of her own rules for success involved sucking up to the people more in charge than you so she nodded. "Of course not, sir. I just hope the job I do is up to par."

Sir.

Oh. Oh it was mana from Heaven. Someone sucking up to him properly as was his due for being senior officer.

He grinned broadly.

"I have the utmost faith in your abilities, Wexler. Dismissed!"

"Aye aye, sir," Turtle said, with a little salute. "See you next week. Ten minutes before class!"

"Add a bit more twirl to that salute there and we'll make an officer of you yet."

At which point he stared down at the papers on his desk. They were all blank, of course, but it was the principle of the thing.

Seven Secrets to Success - Wednesday, 5/13 - Period Five

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