Current Events > CYOA: You are the HR manager for a criminal organization.

(+) Yeah! (+)

You are sitting in your office, face flat on your desk, crippled by the annoying phone conversation you're having for what has to be the millionth time. "Two-Toed Tony..."
"Yeah?"
"What am I gonna say?" you ask him.
"You're gonna feed me a bunch of garbage about a loophole I fell into and blah blah blah and so on and what have you-" Tony starts.
"Tony it's not-" you try to interrupt him.
"-but ultimately it's gonna end with me getting screwed out of my disability retirement."
There's a knock at your door, but you ignore it for now. "Tony. You can't receive your pension via disability retirement until Cigna approves your long term disability claim."
"I did that," he replies.
Smilin' Gary slowly opens the door to your office so as not to disturb your phone call. You hold up one finger to him and explain to Tony, "You provided a disability approval notice from Sedgwick. Sedgwick is not our disability administrator, Tony. It needs to be from Cigna."
"This is bullshit, man. I have chronic, debilitating pain. I can't work in this condition. I have constitutional rights to this money. Constitutional, um... federal, principality rights and what have you," Tony pleads. "Sedgwick sees it. They see me hurting."
"Okay well we violate the law for a living, Tony, so don't cite the constitution at me. And I believe you're in pain, but I can't just give out money when you haven't filed the proper paperwork. If I give money to you, then maybe Smilin' Gary will claim his mouth hurts from smiling too much and he'll want disability payments too," you reply as Smilin' Gary sits in the chair opposite you, not smiling in the slightest. "The rules are in place for a reason, Two-Toed Tony."
"Okay well, it seems my name should provide proof of my disability," Tony suggests. "You guys literally called me Two-Toed Tony after the Jovanovski gang shot off eight of my toes. A lot of our guys were witnesses, seems like you could ask one of them where most of Two-Toed Tony's toes are, and when they say 'I don't know'... disability approved, probably. And what have you."
"Well, y'know, if one of them gets a job at Cigna, we might be in business. Until then, no disability, pal. Stay strong, keep your head up and what have you," you mutter as you hang up the phone.

Smilin' Gary looks up from the chair. "Two-Toed Ton-"
"Yeah," you interrupt. "Every fucking day, man. Please don't tell me you're here to report an employee injury."
"Nope," Gary frowns.
"Thank God," you exhale and sink into your chair. "Why are you frowning, Smilin' Gary? This is a good thing."
"Well, Hefty Hector isn't injured per se. More... dead," Gary informs you.
You lean forward in your chair. "Jesus Christ... How did it happen?"
"A heroin deal with the Peruvians went south. Both sides were hunkered down in cover," Gary recalls as his eyes turn into a thousand yard stare. "Hector was eating one of those popsicles with the jokes on them, you know? Where did the spaghetti and sauce go to dance? Only Hector sneezed before he finished the popsicle and accidentally threw it out into the open. He had the look in his eye, and I told him he better fucking not."
"He was going for the popsicle? Even after it had been on the ground?" you ask.
---

Gary shakes his head. "He wanted to know the punchline. I asked Barnswallow Bill where spaghetti and sauce go to dance and he was like, 'it's the meat ball'. And I told Hector, 'yo that's sounds like it's it, that's pretty funny bro' and Hector was like, 'nah I don't think that's it' and me and Barnswallow Bill were like, 'DUDE that's gotta be it bro,' and Hector was all, 'yeah the meat ball is pretty good but I feel like that's not it. Barnswallow Bill thought of that in like two seconds, the professional comedy guys they got working at the popsicle factory are probably gonna take this shit to a whole nother level.' So he crawled out to grab the popsicle stick and the Peruvians shot him to shit," Gary finishes the tale of his rough afternoon.
"And was it?" you ask him.
"Huh?" Gary raises an eyebrow.
"Was it the meat ball?"
Gary nods. "Yeah."
You put your elbows to the desk and put your chin in your hands. "Jesus..." you say as you and Smilin' Gary stew in silence for a moment. Eventually your lean back in your chair and stare solemnly out the window. "That's a good joke," you whisper.

What do you do?

A) Offer grief counseling to any gang members that may need it.
B) Conduct a workplace safety training seminar.
C) There's a stack of resumes in your drawer. Time to interview candidates to replace Hector.
D) Contact Hector's next of kin regarding his life insurance benefits.
---

B
---

B
---

A

C
---

B
---

This is my New AssMuff CYOA face.

:D

But I'm voting B, in case the face looks like a cite.
---

wtf kind of criminal organization has an hr department

"Now Vicente, you didn't have to go and shoot Alphonse in the head because he said something you disagreed with."

"I'm sorry Ms. DiVencenzio. It won't happen again."
---

SauI_Goodman posted...

wtf kind of criminal organization has an hr department

"Now Vicente, you didn't have to go and shoot Alphonse in the head because he said something you disagreed with."

"I'm sorry Ms. DiVencenzio. It won't happen again."

It only happened twice!
---

B

Looking forward to this!
---

SauI_Goodman posted...

wtf kind of criminal organization has an hr department

"Now Vicente, you didn't have to go and shoot Alphonse in the head because he said something you disagreed with."

"I'm sorry Ms. DiVencenzio. It won't happen again."

Complaining won't help you get your benefits, Tony.
---

B!
---

Bump.
---

Looking like B is gonna win, I can update tomorrow.
---

B) Conduct a workplace safety training seminar.

The next morning, you've gathered everyone in the break room and handed out a packet on workplace safety. "Okay, can everyone hear me alright?"
A low grumble moves throughout the crowd.
"I'll take that as a yes," you confirm. "Now we're gonna talk a little bit about how to stay safe while performing our job duties. We don't want what happened to Hector to happen to anyone else in this room, okay?"
Another grumble from the crowd, followed by a lone cough.
You survey the crowd and see that only a few employees are actively trying to sleep through the meeting. That's better than usual. "First things first, safety in the workplace starts with wellness at home, doesn't it fellas? Making sure we're eating healthy, getting enough sleep, and exercising regularly is the best way to put yourself in a position to succeed. Goblin Jon, how much sleep did you get last night?"
Goblin Jon scratches the back of his neck. "Like five hours."
"And what did you have for breakfast?"
"I woke up, smoked a bowl while I was taking a shit, then I drove here," Goblin Jon replies.
"Okay, so not only did Goblin Jon not eat breakfast, but he is also impaired in the workplace," you announce. "Obviously this is not ideal."
"He did shit though," a voice from the back calls out.
"Shitting's not necessarily a good thing," Barnswallow Bill chirps up. "Depends on how frequently he's doing it and what the consistency was."
"Ask him how big it was," the voice yells out again.
"Bigness has nothing to do with it," Bill argues.
"I'm not going to ask Goblin Jon to describe his bowel movement," you interject.
Goblin Jon is an open book, however, and answers the crowd despite your disapproval. "It was my first one in about four days and it was beet red. I think it was mostly blood."
Cries of "Gross!", "Nasty!", and "You fucking goblin!" radiate through the crowd.
"Hey guys we're not here to sit in judgment! We don't come down on our coworkers when they do something wrong, we can only point them in the right direction, okay?" you say before whispering to Jon, "Although you really should head to the emergency room after this meeting is over."

"Fuck!" you hear Notorious Greg shout out. "This fucking safety packet gave me a papercut!"
"Sorry about that, this one's on me," you apologize. "Our projector is broken so I-"
Greg throws his packet to the ground, takes out his pistol, and shoots it. Everybody covers their ears to no avail, as the whole room is ringing.
You throw you hands up and shout above the calamity. "This is what I'm talking about! This is why we need this training! We can't have employees discharging a firearm in a room with dozens of people in it! This floor is concrete. The bullet could have ricocheted and hit someone else."
"Actually I don't think bullets bounce off concrete. I think they dig into it," Horny Roger chimes in.
"No, no, I think the HR guy is right," Smilin' Gary interjects. "Concrete sends bullets flying. Greg, where's the bullet you shot? Is it in the floor?"
Notorious Greg shrugs. "I don't know."
Gary nods. "Okay. Shoot the floor again so we'll know how to be safe next time you shoot the floor."
As Greg cocks his weapon, you take a deep breath and bellow, "No! NO! You should never shoot a gun inside this building. That is the safest possible option."
"What if the Jovanovski gang invades our base?"
"We hide," you reply nonchalantly.
A much louder grumble emanates from the gang.
---

"I know, I know. You guys think it's cowardly, but we know this building better than they do. We hide, escape, and burn down the building while they're still inside. Once we've collected the insurance money, we buy another warehouse for our new home base. Active shooters and insurance fraud are right on page five of the packet, you guys."
"Can I have a new packet?" Greg asks.
"No, I didn't print any extras. Either look on with someone else or use the one you shot," you put your hands on your hips. "Now where were we?"
"We were shitting on Goblin Jon," Hella Jane answers.
"Nope, we weren't shitting on anybody-" you start.
"Why am I the only one getting shit on?" Goblin Jon angrily interrupts you.
"You aren't, he shit all over Notorious Greg too," Roger adds.
"Is that what this is?" Bill stands up. "Some safety nerd putting us down so he can make himself feel good?"
The crowd starts to get unruly. You try to motion for them to simmer down. "It's not about making people feel bad, it's about keeping everyone alive! We are stronger together."
"Gay!" a voice you can't identify shouts out.
"If... If being alive is gay, I don't wanna be straight," you reply.
"Amen to that brother," Gay Tim says as he winks at you.
Goblin Job notices the wink and asks, "Gay Tim, are you fucking the HR guy?"
"Not yet," Tim shoots you a finger gun.
"Okay, okay. Now we're steering close to sexual harassment," you tell him.
"Whoa, that's homophobic," Horny Roger scolds you.
"It has nothing to do with sexual preference. It's inappropriate to tell another coworker you plan to have sex with them, regardless of their gender or sexuality," you explain.
"What about us?" Hella Jane speaks up. "Our pimps sexually harass us all the time."
"Well, actually Hella Jane, hoes are considered independent contractors by the company. And independent contractors are not subject to the Code of Conduct."
"That's just a fancy way of saying we're being trafficked," Jane scowls.
"That's not... um... Next question," you move on.
Notorious Greg stands up holding a bullet. "I found it! They do dig into the concrete. The floor is okay to shoot."
"No it's not!" you growl.
"Is cocaine cool?" Goblin Jon asks. "Probably would help me focus more."
"That's still a drug so no," you tell him.
"But those people in The Wolf of Wall Street did coke all the time," Smilin' Gary objects.
"Yeah and like every character in that movie went to jail," you argue.
"Did they?" Gary cocks his head. "I never finished it. That movie was like three hours long and I had to leave to go meet my coke dealer."
"Meth is fine though. But only for me," Meth Carlton declares.
"It most certainly is not."
"Yeah it is. It says so in my employment contract," Meth Carlton says.
You clench one of your fists. "We don't even have employment contracts."
"You lost my contract?" Carlton asks with half-hearted concern. "Well until you find it, you can't prove mine doesn't have a meth clause."
---

"Let's talk about the buddy system, okay?" you try to change the subject. "We're criminals. This is a dangerous job and we shouldn't try to do it alone. One could say that Hector died because the principles of the buddy system were not being followed."
"Oh so I was supposed to just crawl out and die with him?" Smilin' Gary's nostrils flare.
"Nope, that's not what-"
"That's a dick thing to say, guy," Barnswallow Bill comes to Gary's defense. "I was there too. Was I supposed to just throw myself on their corpses?"
"Absolutely not. Gary and Bill, you two followed the buddy system perfectly," you reassure them. "It was Hector who abandoned his buddies to read a popsicle stick."
"Talkin' shit about the dead?" Goblin Jon shakes his head. "Nice, dude. Real classy."
"He was our fucking brother. How dare you," Horny Roger berates you.
"Look, I'm not trying to disrespect Hector's memory," you hold your arms up. "I just want you guys to know that dying for a punchline isn't worth it."
"Maybe to you it isn't," Smilin' Gary calls you out. "It wasn't just the punchline. Hector believed in something better. We had something good, but he wanted something great. Not just for him, but for all of us. He wanted us all to laugh for once. He died believing there was something better than the meat ball."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" you look around incredulously.

The crowd starts to talk among themselves, almost fully ignoring the presentation. Meth Carlton turns his back and discreetly tries to smoke some crystal despite the cloud forming around him. Notorious Greg fires another round into the floor, but this time the bullet bounces up and nicks him in the hand. This has really gone off the rails.

What do you do?

A) You can't deal with this anymore. Start looking for another job.
B) Take Goblin Jon and Notorious Greg to the emergency room.
C) Ask the gang leader for tips on getting through to the employees.
D) Call a urinalysis lab to administer drug tests for everyone.
---

Bump before bed.
---

C
---

C.
---

B

Company presentations are bullshit wastes of precious hours in the day. Let the people do their jobs while you take Goblin Jon and Notorious Greg to the emergency room.
---

C
---

Blump.
---

C

This is hilarious, by the way
---

Thanks, man. I think I can update tomorrow.
---

Up
---

teepan95 posted...

Up

---

HotLap posted...

Thanks, man. I think I can update tomorrow.

Never trust Hotlap when he says this
---

C

hotlap never disappoints
---

C) Ask the gang leader for tips on getting through to the employees.

As the safety meeting devolves further into gun violence and drug use, you quietly sneak out of the room. You have a feeling that nothing you said to those guys is going to stick. Gang life is synonymous with danger, and they refuse to acknowledge that it doesn't have to be. You wish there was a way to get through to them... and you think you might know who could do it.

Flynn Floris is the leader of the Floris crime family. He understands that passion and intimidation are essential to any gang operation, but it is no substitute for levelheadedness. He built this empire from the ground up, starting with barely a pistol to his person. Flynn was careful, he was calculating, but above all else he developed a substantial benefits package for his current and former employees. Growing up, you never would have thought you'd hold so much admiration for a gang leader, but when a gang leader holds himself to the same ideals you do, it's hard not to. He referred to hiring you as a "match made in heaven."

You step into the elevator to the second floor of the warehouse, which Flynn has outfitted into a penthouse suite of sorts. As you step out of the elevator, you greet the familiar sights of exotic fishtanks, white leather couches, and kilos upon kilos of narcotics. However, not all the sights are familiar. Sitting behind Flynn's marble desk is a man that looks to be in his late sixties. Flynn couldn't have been a day over 45. Perhaps this is his father, filling in for Flynn while he's out of town?

"Hello there," the old man greets you.
"Hi. I'm looking for Flynn, is he around?" you ask him.
"Fraid not," he answers gruffly. "I killed him about two weeks ago. Walked into this office when he wasn't here, then hid in that closet behind me for hours. When he finally came back and sat down in this chair, I popped out and strangled him to death with a rope."
"Flynn's dead?" you ask somberly before whispering, "We told ourselves we'd learn SQL together."
"No time for that now," the man shrugs. "I'm Flynn's uncle, Horace."
"Horace Floris?"
"Don't you dare laugh at me, boy," Horace threatens.
"I wasn't planning on it. You just killed my boss. Your own nephew, I might add" you say.
"Oh come off it now," he scolds you. "He was going to be the death of this organization. He was leading us down a bad path. Plus, how do you think he got put in charge, anyway?"
"He told me he built this organization from the ground up," you reply.
"That's a load of rubbish, boy. It's a nice story, but it ain't the truth. He killed his cousin Abe to get the gig. And Abe killed someone else, who had killed some other Floris before that, and so on," Horace explains his dark family history.
"So who really started it all?" you wonder aloud.
"Who knows?" Horace puts his feet up on the marble. "What's done is done. All that matters is the now. Which brings me to you. Why have you come up here?"

You take a deep breath. "Well, a lot of the gang members aren't paying attention to the safety presentation I was giving. They haven't been following any of the safety guidelines in the Code of Conduct either."
"Are you snitching, boy?" the old man growls.
"No, no! Of course not." you quickly try to dissuade any rumors of snitching to the hardened murderer sitting in your late friend's seat. "I was just looking for pointers on how to get through to them. These rules are important, after all."
---

"Hmm I see," he rubs his chin. "Have you tried putting a bullet in someone's ear? That should get their attention."
"Well, it's a safety presentation. I can't just execute someone. That isn't very safe," you admit.
"What's with all this safety nonsense, anyhow?" Horace winces. "Have we all gone soft? I'll tell you what, boy, there's gonna be some changes around here."
"Well who better to discuss organizational changes with than the head of your human resources department?" you smile.
Horace gives you a sidelong glance. "What the fuck did you j- See! This is the kind of shit I'm talking about. Human resources? Why are you even here?"
You see the closet door slowly, but silently creep open behind Horace. "Well, employees want to feel like management cares about them and management wants to know that their employees are happy."
"I don't give a fuck if they're happy or not," Horace barks.
"Hey now, Horace. Let's not try to be so close-minded. You'd be amazed at the productivity of a happy, inspired workforce," you tell him.
"You'd be amazed at how much harder they'd work if we'd threaten to kill their families if-"

Horace's sentence is abruptly cut short by a rope being pulled across his neck. A taller, muscular man with sandy hair drags Horace from the chair to the ground. Horace attempts to break free but his old bones are no match for this newcomer's strength. The old timer's face turns blue as the life leaves his eyes and he falls limp. The man flops Horace's body off the chair, stands it upright, and takes a seat. He is wearing a finely tailored suit and wide rim glasses. "Hi, I'm Todd Floris, Flynn's brother."
You try to hold down your breakfast as you avoid looking at the corpse and shake Todd's hand. "Nice to meet you, Todd. I was a good friend of Flynn's. I'm glad to see he was avenged."
"I actually didn't know about Horace," Todd admits. "I was here to murder Flynn and take over the business."
"Well... mission accomplished I suppose," you wipe the sweat off your brow.
Todd nods. "Indeed. While I was in the closet, I overheard the problem you were having. I think I might have an idea."
"It's not more workplace violence, is it?" you plead exasperated.
"Far from it," Todd assures you. "Maybe what the guys need is a little positive reinforcement. If all safety guidelines are met for a week, maybe they get a prize or something."
"That's... actually a pretty good idea," you confess. "What do you have in mind?"
Todd presents you with a riddle. "Well, they're all in a gang, so they're all scumbags. And what do scumbags love?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Meat Lover's Pizza," Todd answers. "I bet these vicious monsters would just love to tear into some poor animal's flesh. In fact, the more animals the better. That's how you motivate them. Give these sick carnivores something to sink their teeth into. I, of course, will not participate. I've been a full blown vegan for eight years now. You know what they say - meat is murder."
You try to keep the facade together, but you just can't. "What are you talking about? You just murdered your uncle! You came here to murder your brother! Murder is murder!"
"Yeah, but neither one of them was a cow or a hog," Todd argues.
You take a moment to let all of this settle in. "...Are those glasses even prescription?"
"Of course not," he replies happily.
"I fucking knew it," you scowl.
Todd claps his knee and rises from the chair. "Alright, well I have a body to get rid of. Might try out some of these drugs or bring the fish in the aquariums back to the ocean first, so um... back to work, HR guy."
---

Your mind races as you take the elevator back down. Flynn had been dead for two weeks and nobody knew. No one knew who Horace Floris was. Now, from the looks of it, Todd's not going to really have any involvement in the day-to-day operations of this business either. But somehow, despite having no input from upper management, the gang seems to be doing fine. If it wasn't Flynn, who the hell is giving the orders here?

As you exit the elevator, you see another man approaching it holding a plastic shopping bag. You definitely don't recognize him. "Can I help you?"
The man is slightly taken aback by your question. "Uh... yeah. My name is Brent Floris-"
You roll your eyes. "Oh my God."
"-and I was wondering if the boss was in."
You look down into his shopping bag. "That's a lot of rope there, Brent."
He chuckles and says, "Haha, yeah. Abe uses it for rock climbing I think."
"Ugh, you are like way behind, my dude," you sigh.

What do you do?

A) Bring Brent to your office and ask him questions to see if he'd be a good gang leader.
B) Todd is a murderer, but his idea was solid. Offer positive reinforcement for safety compliance.
C) Try to figure out who the hell is giving orders here.
D) Warn Todd that Brent is here to kill him.
---

BC
---

teepan95 posted...

BC

---

E) jerk it with luigi
---

TreyFlowers posted...

E) jerk it with luigi

This kind of behavior doesnt fly in Foxboro, Trey. Thats why youve been banished to Detroit.
---

Yikes, not much of a turnout for this one, huh?
---

A MAN CAN DREAM CAN'T HE?

Surely this CYOA will be finished... Surely.

Vote BC

BC
---

BC
---

PhilKenSebben posted...

BC

---

A
---

Update tomorrow probably.
---

Oh shit this almost purged. My bad, yesterday I was wiped. I can tomorrow FOR SURE THIS TIME.
---

---

B) Todd is a murderer, but his idea was solid. Offer positive reinforcement for safety compliance.
C) Try to figure out who the hell is giving orders here.

You take a deep breath. "You know what, Brent? It's your lucky day, Todd is in his office right now."
"Todd..." you see the wheels churning behind Brent's eyes. "Todd who? Todd Floris?"
You stare at Brent dumbfounded. "Wha-? Yes! Of course Todd Floris! Who the fuck else-... Nevermind. I have shit to do," you grumble as you push your way past the likely new gang leader.
"Todd Floris... is he a distant cousin or something?" Brent mumbles as he boards the elevator.

You can't believe this is how upper management operates. There's no communication between them and the general staff, which makes your job basically impossible. You make your way back into the warehouse where your eyes fall upon Smilin' Gary, British Ted, and Gay Tim transferring pounds of cocaine into several smaller baggies for distribution. You stroll over to their tables and spot all three of them start rubbing their noses at the sight of you.

"Really?" you throw your arms up. "It's been like twenty minutes since I asked you not to do drugs at work."
"We just work faster this way," Smilin' Gary protests. "You wouldn't understand. You're just sitting behind that desk all day. We're on our feet, using our hands-"
"It's bloody manual labor, mate," British Ted interrupts in a terrible, clearly fake cockney accent.
"Besides, it seems to work for Meth Carlton," Gary objects.
The four of you watch as Meth Carlton lifts an entire wooden pallet of heroin off of a box truck and carry it across the warehouse. His eyes are the size of dinner plates and you can hear him grinding his teeth from twenty yards away.
"Holy shit those are some productive minutes right there," you mutter in spite of yourself.
Gary nods. "See?"
"If it makes you feel any better, this won't be the only white substance going up my nose today," Tim chuckles.
"It absolutely does not," you grimace. "Alright look, I'm not gonna bust you, but how do you think the boss man would react if he found out you were stealing his product?" you ask the trio.
You see the three consider the consequences quietly. "Not... not well probably," Gay Tim. "And don't you mean boss woman?"
You see Smilin' Gary and British Ted exchange confused glances.
You sigh. Just as you thought. "I'll do you guys one better. Who told you to do this? Who do you think is in charge right now?"
The group looks to Tim first. "It's Penelope," he answers as if it's obvious. "She's been in charge for years."
"I would bet my life that neither Ted nor Gary knows who the fuck Penelope is," you reply.
Tim laughs. "Hehe, well that's ridicul-" he trails off as he peeks over at the others and realizes you were telling the truth. "Well what the hell happened to Penelope?"
"She was probably killed a long time ago," you answer.
"By who?" Tim demands angrily.
"Oh shit," Smilin' Gary whispers. "You think Abe killed her? And that's why he's in charge now?"
"Maybe. But he's not in charge either. He's dead too." You see British Ted open his mouth to start to speak, but you cut him off. "And yes, Ted. Flynn killed Abe and took his place. But I just found out Flynn's been dead for two weeks."
"So who the fuck's in charge now?" Gary asks.
You shrug. "As of ten minutes ago it was Todd Floris, but I just saw Brent Floris get on the elevator so it's anyone's guess."
British Ted bangs the table. "And you daen't try teh stop 'im, lad? That's our bloody leader, you wanker!"
---

"You guys are missing the bigger picture here, fellas! This ship hasn't had a captain in years and it's still sailing," you shake Ted.
Tim looks at his feet for a moment before asking, "Do we want to fuck with that though?"
You shrug. "I don't know..."
Gary pushes his tongue into his bottom lip and shapes his hands into fists. "Hector died for this gang. And he didn't even know who he was fighting for."
"Maybe he was fighting for all of us," you pat his shoulder. "And maybe we fight for him."
"Every gun deal, every drug shipment, and every working girl has a cut being sent upstairs," Smilin' Gary seethes. "Who has been going to all these years?"
"Whoever's sitting in the chair at the time," you respond. "But before you make any rash decisions, all of you need to ask yourself one thing. Did you get into gang life to fight for Penelope, Abe, or Flynn? Or would you have found your way into this life anyways?"
"What got you into gang life?" Tim asks you.
You close your eyes as a smile drifts across your face. "The first gang I ever worked for had a really innovative payroll software. I'd never seen anything like it."
"I baet 'twas a sight teh see, lad."
"Okay, you gotta stop with the British accent, Ted. It's truly horrendous to listen to," you scold him.
"But it's my na-"
"Where are you from?" you demand.
"Oh, it's just a wee village on the isle of-" Ted starts.
"Where are you from really?" you cut him off.
"I'm... I'm from Boise," he replies with no accent.
"Good, talk like you're from Boise," you plead. "Just because your nickname is British Ted, that doesn't mean you have to be British."
Gay Tim drops the bag he was packaging and rapidly taps his foot on the floor. "What?!"
"...Yeah I mean... have you honestly ever seen Smilin' Gary smile?" you ask Gay Tim.
"No no no, but I've... I've done so much," Tim whimpers. "To so many dudes. I'm not even gay!"
"Well yeah, no shit," you say matter of factly. "Nobody who's actually gay behaves the way you do. You behave like a straight guy pretending to be gay."
"While actually performing all the sex acts though," Smilin' Gary smirks, for maybe the first time in his life.
"This... can't be. It's been four years," Gay Tim slumps down in the chair behind him.
"Well who gave you that nickname?" you wonder aloud.
"It was... It was Horny Roger," he replies as he finally puts all the pieces together in his head. Tim puts his face in his hands. "Oh my God... I had a girlfriend before all this."

You hear a yell from across the warehouse and see Goblin Jon trapped under a pallet of heroin. "Help!"
You can't help but admire that whoever nicknamed this fucking idiot got it right on the money. You run over with Barnswallow Bill, Notorious Greg, and Fastball Jeff to lift the pallet off of Goblin Jon.
"What the hell were you thinking?" you berate him.
"Well I thought if Meth Carlton could do it, maybe I could too," Goblin Jon replies as he nurses his injured legs.
You rub your temples in frustration. "Meth Carlton is on his super drugs and you shit blood this morning. Use the forklift! Where is Meth Carlton anyways?"
"He finished moving his pallets already, so now he's outside digging a hole," Horny Roger explains.
---

"Okay, can I everyone's attention?" you call out as everyone gathers around. You sigh. Maybe Todd was right. They'll never learn, but maybe they can be manipulated into being safe. "This shit right here is exactly why we need safety regulations! But I know going through another seminar will be torture for everyone. So I'm just going to post the rules on the wall and if we go FIVE DAYS without a violation, you'll all get a pretty sweet prize."
"What's the prize?" Goblin Jon inquires from the floor.
Having no idea what you're going to offer them, you announce, "I'll let you know when we get close, but trust me - you're gonna love it."
Murmurs of excitement flow through the warehouse.

You nod at Barnswallow Bill. "How'd you get your nickname? You swallow something weird in a barn?"
Bill shakes his head and laughs. "I didn't swallow anything."
"He likes birds," Gay Tim chimes in with a single tear on his cheek. "A barn swallow is a type of bird."

What are you going to offer the gang to bribe them into being safe?

A) Muthafuckin' meat lover's pizza.
B) Organize a raid on the Peruvians to avenge Hefty Hector.
C) Stop sending the money upstairs to the Floris family and instead distribute it among the staff.
D) Allow the gang members to choose their own nicknames.
---

Holy shit

DA
---