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modern workplace and you

The Modern Workplace and You: Friday, period 1

“Look, you guys!” Cheryl greeted the class (sans ocelot today, sorry guys) by waving mass of yarn that might have been some sort of clothing item at the class. “Freaking finally. I've been working on this since, like, last year.”

It was only January, Cheryl. Calm down.

“That’s not as impressive as you think it is,” Pam said brightly. “So, last week we had you all introduce yourselves and list some of your skills, and some of you even had useful ones, which is pretty good. We were supposed to talk about personal safety and I had all these notes written up on the subject but someone can’t keep her damn ocelot from shredding anything that comes out of the printer.”

Not naming names, here, Cheryl.

“It's not my fault that your stupid printer is next to the spot where he likes to shred things!” Cheryl pointed out, all logically. “So, whatever, who cares even about personal safety. You guys aren't going to like, bang your heads on any coffee tables or whatever in the next week or two, right? We'll get there eventually.” Teenagers, Cheryl. Not toddlers.

“For now, we're gonna do self-expression!” And to punctuate that, she was going to start putting on her macramed top. Over her clothes. Don't worry. Cheryl didn't want to share her ta-tas with you any more than most of you probably wanted to see them.

“That’s supposed to be a shirt?” Pam asked incredulously. “That looks like a bunch of spaghetti threw up on itself.”

“It's a bikini,” Cheryl sniffed. “Just because you couldn't get it to fit over even one of your boobs doesn't mean it's not awesome.” GREAT EXAMPLE YOU'RE SETTING, CHERYL.

“Don’t be dissin’ my curves, chicken-legs,” Pam replied. They were besties. Really. “It’s tacky, is what it is. Today we’re gonna talk about expressing yourself outside a work environment. That can be by macrame-ing really hideous slutty tops, like this one over here did, orrrrrr by doing something hugely talented and amazing like I did!”

Pam produced a huge gigantic -- cake-looking thing. Except it was a farm. Done entirely in marzipan and graham crackers. The last time she’d made one, Ms. Archer had poured coffee on it; this one had been kept way the hell away from both Cheryl and her deranged ocelot as a result.

“You can eat that,” Cheryl told the class, now totally wearing a macrame bikini top over a collared shirt like it was the most normal thing ever. “Like, for reals. So we're gonna have you guys, like, tell us about how you...express yourselves, or whatever. And then you're going to do our way better hobbies.”

“Like working up a tag that doesn’t piss off any of the local gangs, but still gets you decent street cred,” Pam agreed. It was weird to hear someone who looked like Pam talk about gang culture, right? Especially when she was holding a cute marzipan farm. “So, let’s do some arts and crafts!”

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Talk about your dumb stupid hobbies here, so we can make fun of you for them.

"I knit," Rilla offered, "which is a little like macrame, I suppose..."

Though she'd never ever ever made a bikini top. Or thought of doing so.

"What kinda stuff d'you knit?" Pam asked. "This one here's not allowed to knit. I mean, she wasn't, on the ward. No sharp objects."

"Socks mostly," Rilla said. "I send them to France to keep the boys' feet warm there."

...and now you sound insane, Rilla, for people who aren't living through World War I.

"Ooooh la la," Pam leered. "You got a hot Frenchie beefcake? What's his name? Claude? Jean-Paul?"

Rilla blushed hard. "Kenneth."

Re: Your Lame Hobbies or Whatever [1-17]

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"It's totally different," Cheryl informed her, both snottily and incorrectly, since it really wasn't very different at all. "Knitting is way harder. I wanted to try but I wasn't allowed 'cause they don't let you have sharp objects on the ward, when I started."

Explains so much, doesn't it?

Rilla blinked. "What sort of ward was this?" she asked carefully.

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" Cheryl decided. "You're not my supervisor!"

So...you know, you could probably guess what kind of ward.

Rilla's eyebrows arched up. "Ohh."

Elsa was a touch iffy about this one, sharing anything about herself in front of this particular pair of teachers, but she steeled herself all the same.

"I study, mostly," she admitted. "But I do sometimes enjoy singing."

Mostly alone, where nobody could hear her and get any weird ideas about starting conversations with her about it or something. Which was actually a bit of a crime.

"Not studying," Pam said dismissively. "I mean, shit you do for fun, not shit you do 'cause otherwise you get in trouble. What kinda stuff do you sing?"

"I... mostly just sing anything that comes to mind," Elsa replied, brow furrowing a little at Pam's outright dismissal of her studying. "I suppose I don't really sing any one kind of anything..."

Plus, you know, Broadway wasn't really a thing where she was from.

"What, like whatever you're doing today?" Pam asked. "'IIIIIiiiiiiii am putting away the diiiiiiiiiiiiiiishes! And now I mooooooooooop the floooooooooor!'"

Pam's singing made up in enthusiasm what it lacked in ... tone.

"Neeeeeeeeeeerd," Cheryl sang out. "Who likes studying? That's not a hobby."

"It depends on what you're choosing to study," Elsa said primly, even as a flush of pink gave her cheeks a touch of color. "There are plenty of interesting topics to choose to learn about, you know."

"Yeah but there's people you could be talking to or making out with or something instead," Cheryl pointed out helpfully. "Do that. It's way better."

Re: Your Lame Hobbies or Whatever [1-17]

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Re: Your Lame Hobbies or Whatever [1-17]

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"I'm really into radio, so sometimes I like listening to shows or podcasts or whatever. I also like bowling. And I'm a big fan of science!" Cecil declared.

For values of "science" that meant "mooning at a scientist", but that was just details.

"We got a radio station here, but mostly they just gossip," Pam said helpfully. Like Cecil somehow hadn't discovered that. Or like somehow she had room to talk on the subject of gossip. "So, like, what's it mean to be a fan of science? You go to big science conventions and cheer 'em on?"

"Oh, that would be neat!" Cecil enthused. "Do they have science conventions?"

"Don't you know about TV?" Cheryl wondered.

Cecil made a face. "It's okay, I guess. I don't watch it much."

"Video games," Joker announced. "Lots of 'em. Whenever I'm not studying, or hanging with my friends. Not so much lately for any of those, though. I've mostly been playing match-3 games on my omnitool."

"We don't need to hear about your tool," Pam said with a very serious scowl. Which was a bit rich, coming from someone who'd just made out with her co-teacher for educational purposes. "What kinda games do you play? Shoot-em-ups? Race car ones?"

"I wasn't going to tell you about my tool," Joker countered, "even though it is pretty impressive." No it wasn't. Especially not compared to, say, Mordin's, or Kaidan's.

He dove right into the next question before that got too far over the edge. "For games, I like space combat. Flying and shooting. The more realistic, the better. Especially if it's multiplayer and I can put the hurt down on some noobs." He shrugged. "But, you know, shoot-em-ups and racing and all of the rest of them are fun, too."

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