Post by echoesie on Dec 20, 2007 14:57:45 GMT -5
*** Not an active wrestler -- more of an active observer, this isn't for a character or a superstar. Just an In-Character introduction of what I stand for ***
The slap of Manilla folder on glass placard that covered the rich red and brown Cherry-wood desk was a bit surprising. The folder didn't sound like it was too full, judging by the slap and not a thud that signaled a monstrous file that he would have to sort through sooner or later. The chair was comfy, a grey cushioned seat that sunk down some three-inches when he sat down. The arms of the chair were a hard plastic that stuck to his arms when it was hot in the office. But it was December, and he had another 4 months to enjoy the winter and spring coolness.
He sat back in his chair, head resting against the back of the chair. He spun around slowly, clasping his hands together, fingers intertwining. He pulled both hands under his chin and rested his head on his fingers as he spun around slowly. His eyes were on the desk as he spun. It was a blue-folder, not a manilla one. Blue was a welcome contrast to the boring tan manilla folders that were coveted around the office for some reason or another.
His eyes traveled from the folder, moved further along his desk, ignoring the gold-plated name plaque that sat on the front of his desk. A pair of matching golden pins adorned either side, like a couple of arms embracing his name. His eyes traveled further yet, meeting a pair of black slacks. They had a neat crease running down the middle, perhaps a slight grey pinstripe as well. His eyes travelled up the pants, past the black leather belt, up the long-sleeve button-up shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up long ago. His eyes finally found the stranger's eyes a minute after his desk had been introduced to the blue folder.
"Sir?" The man's mouth moved, not, it didn't really move. It sort of slid around, his lips small and his tongue was big, flopping around like a fish. He looked at the stranger, raising his eyebrows. "My name..."
"I don't bloody well care what your name is." He said, his face still showing no emotion, "Blue folder? Why not manilla? Everyone else around here uses Manilla."
"Everyone else around here is boring..." The stranger said in a small squeek, a smile played on the strangers lips. "A little color never hurts."
"Touche. What can I do for you sir?" He spun his chair slightly, his fingers unlacing and stretching to the folder. He held the light folder in his fingers, never opening it.
"Well sir, apparently I'm your newest intern. Thats my resume, sir."
"Awfully small, intern. There are just a handful of things you need to know about me." He dropped the blue folder into a trash can that sat on the outside of his desk. "I'm a realist, I don't want to hear you BSing about how you scored with the intern from across the hall. Because both you and I know you ain't gonna get anything with that blue shirt you have on. Keep things down to earth, don't exaggerate, be real, be serious and watch yourself ride.
I'm a perfectionist, and you'd better sure as hell get your act together when you're around me. I can be your best friend, can help you focus, can help you improve, but not if you keep on dickin' around like a whore in a trailer park. Come clean, come quick and come often, and you'll find yourself at the top.
Simple yes? I've been around long enough, seen things come and go. Some have been better than others. This is just another notch in my belt, another stop on the train and you're along for the ride, intern. Sit down and enjoy. You may call me Mr. Echo."
His intern nodded, "Sounds fine sir." The intern studied his black polished shoes.
"Hold your head up when you're in my presence. You don't get to become a prominent figure by staring at yours or anyone else's shoes. Look at people when you talk to them, tell them the truth, and never argue with your boss. Take advice, but never use it. Ever heard the phrase: 'Talk is cheap,'? Life is expensive. Words can add up and pretty soon, you're inspiring millions and millions of people through a few words. Actions speak louder than words, yet I can run full speed into a gunman trying to rob a bank. What does that accomplish? Nothing, except the janitor having a job to do when all returns to normal. Use your words wisely, and act quickly."
He spun back around in his chair, his eyes latching on the computer, ignoring his newest intern. This was fun, always fun.
The slap of Manilla folder on glass placard that covered the rich red and brown Cherry-wood desk was a bit surprising. The folder didn't sound like it was too full, judging by the slap and not a thud that signaled a monstrous file that he would have to sort through sooner or later. The chair was comfy, a grey cushioned seat that sunk down some three-inches when he sat down. The arms of the chair were a hard plastic that stuck to his arms when it was hot in the office. But it was December, and he had another 4 months to enjoy the winter and spring coolness.
He sat back in his chair, head resting against the back of the chair. He spun around slowly, clasping his hands together, fingers intertwining. He pulled both hands under his chin and rested his head on his fingers as he spun around slowly. His eyes were on the desk as he spun. It was a blue-folder, not a manilla one. Blue was a welcome contrast to the boring tan manilla folders that were coveted around the office for some reason or another.
His eyes traveled from the folder, moved further along his desk, ignoring the gold-plated name plaque that sat on the front of his desk. A pair of matching golden pins adorned either side, like a couple of arms embracing his name. His eyes traveled further yet, meeting a pair of black slacks. They had a neat crease running down the middle, perhaps a slight grey pinstripe as well. His eyes travelled up the pants, past the black leather belt, up the long-sleeve button-up shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up long ago. His eyes finally found the stranger's eyes a minute after his desk had been introduced to the blue folder.
"Sir?" The man's mouth moved, not, it didn't really move. It sort of slid around, his lips small and his tongue was big, flopping around like a fish. He looked at the stranger, raising his eyebrows. "My name..."
"I don't bloody well care what your name is." He said, his face still showing no emotion, "Blue folder? Why not manilla? Everyone else around here uses Manilla."
"Everyone else around here is boring..." The stranger said in a small squeek, a smile played on the strangers lips. "A little color never hurts."
"Touche. What can I do for you sir?" He spun his chair slightly, his fingers unlacing and stretching to the folder. He held the light folder in his fingers, never opening it.
"Well sir, apparently I'm your newest intern. Thats my resume, sir."
"Awfully small, intern. There are just a handful of things you need to know about me." He dropped the blue folder into a trash can that sat on the outside of his desk. "I'm a realist, I don't want to hear you BSing about how you scored with the intern from across the hall. Because both you and I know you ain't gonna get anything with that blue shirt you have on. Keep things down to earth, don't exaggerate, be real, be serious and watch yourself ride.
I'm a perfectionist, and you'd better sure as hell get your act together when you're around me. I can be your best friend, can help you focus, can help you improve, but not if you keep on dickin' around like a whore in a trailer park. Come clean, come quick and come often, and you'll find yourself at the top.
Simple yes? I've been around long enough, seen things come and go. Some have been better than others. This is just another notch in my belt, another stop on the train and you're along for the ride, intern. Sit down and enjoy. You may call me Mr. Echo."
His intern nodded, "Sounds fine sir." The intern studied his black polished shoes.
"Hold your head up when you're in my presence. You don't get to become a prominent figure by staring at yours or anyone else's shoes. Look at people when you talk to them, tell them the truth, and never argue with your boss. Take advice, but never use it. Ever heard the phrase: 'Talk is cheap,'? Life is expensive. Words can add up and pretty soon, you're inspiring millions and millions of people through a few words. Actions speak louder than words, yet I can run full speed into a gunman trying to rob a bank. What does that accomplish? Nothing, except the janitor having a job to do when all returns to normal. Use your words wisely, and act quickly."
He spun back around in his chair, his eyes latching on the computer, ignoring his newest intern. This was fun, always fun.