CRASS Cubicle Contest

“You are number one!” Team Leader Sybil Kibble tells new part-time Collections Representative, Robbie Hurlbutt.

“I know,” Robbie smirks.

“No, I mean you made the top of our production metrics. Good job, keep doubling down on debtors and you will do well here at CRASS.”

Robbie flashes a thumbs up to Sybil and swings back around to his cubicle.

“Ding.” Everybody gets the same email.

From: “Mack. E. Avelli” [bigmack@crass-llc.con]

To: “CRASS Corporate Listserv” [all-crass-l@crass-llc.con]

Friday, October 25, 2019

Subject: Cubicle Decoration Contest

We here at CRASS care about employee stress. Therefore I, as your polite and tenderhearted Chief Executive Officer, am extending an entire thirty minutes (:30) to participate in the company cubicle contest (CCC). Be creative in decorating your cubicles and have fun! You are not required to use your lunch for this event, but we encourage you because time is money!

The winner will be selected by our very own art director, the lovely and talented Dorian James on Halloween Day.

The prize will be a trophy to display in your office. Have a spooky good time!

Regards,

Mr. Mack E. Avelli

CRASS Chief Executive Officer

The collectors get to work making calls and decorating their cubicles. Robbie Hurlbutt, a local Elvis impersonator best known for an Internet meme featuring a scowling lady unhappy with his nursing home performance, covers his cube with Elvis record covers. Dale Davis covers his walls with ghouls and goblins. Sybil Kibble covers her supervisor cubicle with devil dogs.

It is a cold, windy Halloween day in Kankakee and it is starting to rain. “If you don’t like the weather here in the Midwest, wait five minutes,” Dale jokes to Sybil.

“Eeep!” The email all of CRASS has been waiting for comes in.

“Who changed our notification sound to a wild eep?” Robbie asks.

“That was probably Dorian,” Sybil sighs.

From: “Dorian James” [dorian@crass-llc.con]

To: “CRASS Corporate Listserv” [all-crass-l@crass-llc.con]

Thursday, October 31, 2019

Subject: Cubicle Decoration Contest Winners and Losers

Sybil: Your design lacks thought and maturity. It is not what we are looking for.

Dale: There is no art development and it basically reads like a rather puerile joke.

Tara: You are obviously a 13 year old drama queen…Grow up little girl.

Mack: Several of us discussed your design and did not like it. Not everyone likes what I make. It is not personal.

Mike: You need to get used to the fact that not everyone is going to like your work and move on.

Robbie: That is the best design I have ever seen. I love Elvis. You are my winner.

R,

Mister Dorian James

Art Director Extraordinaire

Credit Recovery Associates

The staff is upset with valid reason…except for Robbie. He is smiling away, taking calls and collecting his Form 4s from all the bonuses he gets from not accepting less than double what the debtors can afford to pay. Robbie is grinning ear to ear and cannot wait to rub his trophy in to the entire staff after he receives it.

Robbie continues to successfully make one call after another, when he gets a wide-eyed visitor.

“Hey there, fella!” an upright, confident Dorian James chants to Robbie as he is very happy to see him.

“Oh hey man! Thanks for picking me! Better than picking my nose ya know.”

Awkward silence ensues.

“That was a joke, ya know,” Robbie says nervously.

“Oh sweetheart, I am here to present you with your award.”

“Thanks, man!” Robbie says as he accepts his tiny, gold-tinted trophy.

“Oh, thank you honey. Not a problem at ALL! Hey Robbie, what ya doin’ after work? I think ya kinda cute and wanna take my number one man to dinner!”

“Wait, what?” a confused Robbie asks.

“Yeah cutie! I love your Elvis hair and your clothes! Let’s go out and do karaoke or something!”

“No way man. I quit!” An infuriated Robbie storms off the job and out the building.

Dorian feels crushed by the rejection.

“How does it feel to get rejected, huh Dorian?”

“Yeah you little reject! Now start walking in our shoes.” Sybil says to a beleaguered Dorian.

The staff all begin to laugh at Dorian and make their ways home. It is the end of a long, scary, stressful workday.

Happy Halloween!

Konrad Cooks the Books

“Get back in the kitchen, this pot is about to boil over!” Madeline Topolla-Teirant calls out to her husband, Konrad who is reading the CRASS company ledger in the bathoom.

Kon washes his hands, flicks the water on the floor (a trick he learned from Teirant Cinema-13 clerk Damien Hurlbutt) and struts into the kitchen. He sets the ledger atop a shelf in the cupboard.

“Madeline, I can do this myself. No need to tell me how do cook. Go on and watch the kiddos.” Konrad beckons Madeline to leave the room.

Konrad stirs the pot of his turkey soup. He made sure to put in loads of veggies because they cost less than turkey. Konrad hears a loud banshee-esque squeal come from the living room and dashes out.

“Bratley? What are you doing?” Konrad walks over to him.

“Waaaaaaaaaah! I want my toys!”

Konrad yells at Bratley because he has little patience for children. He usually leaves the parenting to his wife Madeline because he would rather make money. Meanwhile chaos unfolds in the kitchen.

Chanel # 5 and * climb up the kitchen counters, tear up the CRASS ledger into confetti and put it into the soup like it is special spices. They hear their daddy coming so the close the book back up and place it back on the cupboard shelf so they do not get in trouble.

“I told you kids not to play on the kitchen counters! Now go do your homework or you are going to bed without any dinner!”

Kon begins stirring the pot.

The next morning, all of CRASS is sent a company email to announce the new CRASS initiave:

From: Teirant, Konrad (konteirant@crass-llc.con)

To: CRASS, LLC (all-crass-l@crass-ll.con)

Subject: Food for everyone!

Dear CRASS employees:

It is with great pleasure I announce the newest CRASS publicity initiave: Triple down on each call to raise money for the new CRASS Stage! If we raise enough money to name the Kankakee Senior Center stage after us, we can help promote CRASS, LLC as a community leader.

To help celebrate our new publicity effort, I brought in turkey soup, enough for everybody this time! Enjoy! Be sure to only log off using your designated 15 minute and 30 minute breaks to enjoy my cooking.

Most importantly, remember to ask each debtor for three times what they can afford to pay! Submit a Form 5 for each triple down. Each bonus will go toward the stage naming instead of your paycheck these next two weeks.

Happy Monday!

Konrad Teirant

“Want some soup?” Dale asks Sybil. “I’ll spoon feed it to you,” a hopeful Dale says with a grin.

“Go away, Dale. I have work to do,” Sybil snarks as she downs a dog biscuit.

Dale slurps his soup at his desk before he logs onto the autodialer.

Mikey Philps helps himself to two bowls while he watches the collectors stress out over asking for three times what the debtors can afford.

“Why aren’t these folks making production?” a stern Tara Bull asks Sybil Kibble as Tara sips some greasy turkey soup.

“I will keep on pushing for those Triple Downs and Form 5s.” Sybil tells a beleagueured Tara.

Kon sits in his office surfing Fakebook Flat-Earth pages as well as the Dark Web. He feels his belly begin to rumble. “Must be a quake of this flat planet,” Kon says to himself.

A line forms outside the CRASS washrooms. Tara Bull joins the queue. “Why are people taking so long?” Tara mumbles under her breath.

A stench wafts from the mens’ room. Konrad emerges.

“Did I do that?” Kon slyly asks. The lined-up employees giggle.

Mikey Philips is called over to fix the toilet Kon clogged.

Since Kon’s idea failed miserably, he took the rest of his greasy, tained turkey soup to Teirant Cinema-13 to “treat” his emplyees there.

“Ooooh, thank ya boss! Well actually, I just constipated myself by eating six antacids in a row so I do not have to use the toitie all night!” an excited Damien Hurlbutt tells Kon.

“Thanks for the information. Enjoy and get to work.”

Damien drinks the soup right down.

“Ahhhhh.”

“Puttt” goes Damien’s butt.

“Pardon me. Pheeeeeww!”

Damien’s stomach begins to grumble, really grumble.

Konrad looks for Damien and he is not at the ticket counter.

“Where are you Damien? People are lining up and they need to buy their tickets. Imma gon fire you if you do not come back!”

A stench wafts from the men’s room.

“Nevermind…”

Do It Yourself Mike

CRASS Maintenance Chief and Building Manager Mikey Philips is a real do-it-yourselfer. In charge of security, maintenance, and all building operations, Mike wears many hats (not just fedoras). However, Mike has no problem ordering other people to do his work and often does the bare minimum to satisfy his job description, or less.

“Knock-knock. Hi Mike. It’s Clio from HR.”

“Come.”

“The ladies’ room garbage has been overflowing all day. This is an ongoing, systematic problem. Can you please look into it?”

“Do it yourself,” Mike tells Clio.

“You are in charge of building operations. Can you please look into it?”

“I am busy, do it yourself.”

Clio walks away and Mike picks up a newspaper.

A loud pound is heard on Mike’s door. Mike grumbles and crumples his paper.

“Who goes there?”

“Tara Bull from Accounts Receivable. I need to speak with you.”

Tara opens the door.

“Yes.”

“The vending machines in the breakroom have been busted for two weeks. Get on it.”

“Do it yourself,” Mike tells Ms. Bull.

“What is the status of my request I put in two weeks ago? I sent you three emails.”

“Can you do it? I am busy, got running around to do.”

Tara storms out.

Mike logs onto the DullerImage web site to order some essential snake oils and some dehydrated water, however his credit card is declined. “NSF, why is that?” Mike logs onto his Last Bank of Kankakee account and discovers he was not paid today.

Mike calls up Mr. Mack E. Avelli, CRASS CEO, to complain.

“Yes, hello. I just found out I did not get paid today. It is Friday. Why not?”

“I can pay you but you have to work to get money first. Want a way to earn money? Do it yourself, Mike.”

Sybil Auctions Herself Off

“La di da di daaaaa…” Sybil sings poorly as she logs off the autodialer. She has racked up yet another commission and is in a great mood. “Are you going to help out in the Guys N Gals auction, Sybil?” Clio asks as she hands Ms. Kibble a flyer.

“What’s that about, Clio?” Sybil asks.

“Oh, our Glee Committee came up with it to benefit the Kankakee School District Square Dancing Club. We auction off some of our employees to each other. It is for a great cause. Read the flyer.”

“Hot dog! I’ll be there! Sign me up! Can I go first?” Sybil squeaks.

“We will see. It starts today at 3:30. Employees who volunteer get an hour off,” Clio tells Sybil.

Sybil tosses aside the flyer and pours herself a bowl of dog food for lunch.

A little before 3:30 PM, the CRASS conference room begins to fill. CRASS CEO Mack E. Avelli walks over to the podium and adjusts the microphone.

“Today marks the first annual Guys N Gals auction here at CRASS. Each one of you has an 8.5 by 11 inch piece of card stock with a number printed on one side. When our Accounting Manager, Konrad Teirant calls out a bid, you interested bidders hold up your card. Our first person up for bid is the ever enthusiastic Ms. Sybil Kibble!”

Sybil silently hopes to herself that the ever so suave Dorian wins her.

“Who would like to bid first? Can I get $25?”

The ever so slovenly Dale Davis holds up his card.

Sybil dies a bit inside.

“Can we get $50?”

Mikey Philips from Maintenance holds up his card.

Sybil frowns a bit more.

“Good, we have a couple bids. Let’s get a bidding war going. This is for a great cause. Kankakee Schools, guys. Let’s get $100.00.”

Dale holds up his bid card.

“Great. Can we get “$200?”

Mikey holds up his number.

“How about $400?”

Awkward silence passes for a few seconds.

“$400 going once.”

Sybil gets really nervous, thinking she will have to go home with Mikey. Sybil bites her nails.

“$400 going twice.”

Sybil’s anxiety turns to anger. This totally did not turn out the way she expected. Sybil starts visibly shaking.

“Aaaaand—“

Dorian’s card goes up.

“Great! We have $800.00 now.”

Sybil’s heart beats with excitement. Maybe she will get her date with Dorian at last! Now he has to keep the highest bid!

“$800 going once.”

A smirk begins to form across Dorian’s face.

“$800 going twice.”

Dorian’s smirk widens.

“SOLD!”

“One service worker won by Dorian James! Now Sybil, I am certain you will enjoy doing everything Dorian tells you. Have fun!”

“What? SER-vice? I thought this was a date auction!” Sybil screams.

“This is a service auction, and it is for a great cause, run by the Guys N Gals Glee Club. Now you guys go have fun!” Mr. Avelli tells Sybil.

“I need you to clean my monitor, rearrange my filing system and scrub my fish tank. I am going to keep you busy!” Dorian tells a disappointed Sybil as the two work their way out the door.

New CRASS IT Guy Does Not Give a Crap

It was a beautiful morning for 31 year old Tyrell Fowler of Kankakee. He was about to start his new job with Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), LLC, his first “real” job since graduating college ten years ago. He was happy to finally have his own place so he did not have to listen to his mother complaining about him living in her basement and not having a job. He has a history of getting fired over his hostile attitude and his unwillingness to take direction, especially from women.

Tyrell chewed eight antacid pills, after pouring them into his mouth like a beer. Tyrell intentionally constipates himself every morning because he has an extreme aversion to wiping. He showers after each dump.

“That was one good breakfast burrito!” Tyrell says to himself. He logs off The Red Pill subreddit, gets into his overly lifted, full-ton truck and heads to his first day as a CRASS Information Technology contractor.

“This will be such an easy job,” Tyrell thought to himself, “Man, CRASS must be the easiest place to work in the world. Anyone can get a job there. Even I can.” Tyrell laughs audibly. He pulls into the CRASS parking lot and signs in.

After being trained as the newest CRASS IT guy, Tyrell cannot wait to start installing the company’s new computers.

“Are you Miss Kiblee?” Tyrell asks.

“It’s Kibble.” Sybil sighs.

“Like the dog food?”

“Okay, you are here with my new computer and your phone is playing really loud music. Can you turn it down?” Sybil asks.

“No, I need it to work.” Tyrell says sternly, thinking he is the boss.

“Look around. See what we do here? We talk on the phone all day to collect debts. That is how we bring in money. We need it quiet here.”

Tyrell turns his phone down a few notches.

“Okay you are here with my new computer, did you bring the new printer too?” Sybil asks Tyrell.

“No, that’s not on the work order. You will have to call Purchasing. I am just a contractor,” Tyrell says and begins to install the computer.

Sybil calls Purchasing and verifies that the printer was indeed ordered. Purchasing asks to speak with Tyrell. Tyrell refuses.

“Tyrell, Purchasing wants to speak with you.” Sybil puts her phone on speaker.

Tyrell reluctantly speaks to Purchasing, who confirms that Sybil was correct. However, Tyrell does not have the printer with him. Meanwhile, the CRASS Chief Information Officer (CIO) calls Tyrell.

“How are the installs going?” the CIO asks Tyrell.

“This lady is terribly rude to me. Do I have to continue to the installation process?”

“This man is lying!” Sybil shouts. “He was rude to me!”

“Here, I will put you on speakerphone” Tyrell says slyly and puts his mobile phone on speaker.

“Hello, this is Sybil. I am Team Lead over here in Collections Management, how are you?

“Just fine, what is going on? the CIO asks.

“Our new recruit is being insubordinate here.” Sybil told the CIO.

“No I am not, she is lying!” Tyrell exclaimed, his belly rumbling now.

“Just get back to work,” the CIO commanded Tyrell.

Tyrell pulls out his cell phone and points it at Sybil. “Sybil I am recording you now.”

Sybil gets out her cell phone. “I am recording you too. I do not consent to being recorded. Turn your phone off.”

Tyrell lies and says his phone is off, however Sybil continues to record Tyrell’s verbal diarrhea as well as the light from his turned over cell phone which she can clearly see. “I gotta run. I am scared. You touched me. I fear for my life. You are hostile. Oh crap, where is the bathroom?”

“I did not touch you. Keep making crap up and I will continue to record it.”

“Quick, Sybil, tell me where the men’s room is! It’s an emergency!”

“That’s not my problem,” Sybil says and laughs. “What’s that smell?” Sybil smirks, looks straight into her phone’s viewfinder, and points it back at Tyrell.

“Argggghhghhhhhhhhh! Crrrrrraaaaaaaaappppp!” Tyrell shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Ppppppppphhhhhhhhhhffffffffffttttttttttt!”

“Now that is something to post online,” Sybil says with a smile.

Needless to say, Tyrell was crap out of a job that day.

Damien’s Mail-Order Bride

Damien Hurlbutt decides that it is getting too hard to pick up women in Kankakee County. Despite his most sincere offers of free movie tickets to the multiplex at which he works, all but one offer has been rejected; the lone acceptor has gone with her boyfriend instead of Damien. Damien takes his efforts to the World Wide Web.

“I know what women want” says this self-proclaimed nice guy on his dating profile, under his handle “NiceGuyGoodCatch4UChivalryisDead”.

Quoth his profile, “Women need men like me to hold doors open for them, pull out their chairs, and buy all kinds of gifts for them. I am that man. Men like me are endangered species. Where R U?”

Damien strokes his straggly, scratchy neckbeard, tips his fedora, and says “you know, I have an idea”. Meanwhile his coworkers are all staring at him wondering to whom he is talking.

Damien goes home and opens up his newest copy of Hoard Magazine. It took him almost an hour to unbury it from his pile of action figures, coloring books and dirty briefs. Damien turns to the back section, and reads over an advertisement he was thinking about while on the job:

“TIRED OF LOOKING? OUR WOMEN ARE LOOKING FOR MEN LIKE YOU!

MAIL COMPLETED APPLICATION PLUS $50 FEE TO:

Fedora-Neckbeard M’Ladies By Mail

Box 69

666 Lord Byron Way

Hades, NY 11666

Attn: D. Gray

Damien jumped at the offer and mailed in his application with his payment.

Two weeks later, Damien gets a long, handwritten letter from a 20 year old lady from Vietnam named Ha. “You sound like such a gentleman. I cannot wait to meet you.” She includes a photo. Damien is smitten. Ha is the first lady to show interest in Damien!

The two write back and forth. Ha tells Damien she would spend 27 hours traveling just to meet him. He wants to call her but she has not given him her number. He asks her for it, not afraid to spend money to call someone he can shower with gifts, and hopefully meet and control someday. After all, Damien only cares about himself, and Damien thinks he is the only one deserving of love. He only cares about he, himself and Damien.

A month goes by and no word from Ha.

Damien checks the mail, hoping for a postcard. He has sent her one every day except for Sunday. He gets a letter. Damien growls.

The letter is addressed to Mr. Damien Hurlbutt.

“Dear Mr. Hurlbutt:

This letter is an attempt to collect a debt. Your payment to Fedora-Neckbeard M’Ladies By Mail has been rejected due to insufficient funds. Please pay the below amount immediately. Please keep in mind that movie tickets are not acceptable forms of payment.

Signed,

Ms. Sybil Kibble

Lead Collections Representative”

Sybil and the Lawnmower

While on her break from a particularly demanding — but successful — day at Credit Recovery Associates, LLC (CRASS), Lead Collections Representative Sybil Kibble takes a break from her usual dog food lunch to check out the online news.

Sybil logs off the autodialer, sets down her headset, and logs into the daily Kankakee newspaper’s web site. A new article catches Sybil’s eye immediately:

“Step up your lawn mowing game with a new, AutonaMower by SteppinUp Technologies! Make your neighbors jealous by being the first person on the block to own the new AutonaMower! Feel the power of its remote control technology while you set it to mow your lawn, walk away, and forget it! Never has been mowing your lawn been so easy! Now, the Joneses can keep up with you!”

Sybil was hooked.

“Break time is over. Get back to work!” Tara Bull growled. I should not have to babysit you.

Sybil slithered back into her seat and logged into the autodialer.

As soon as Sybil made her last collection that day (and she made sure to double down on the debtor, raking in that commission), Sybil slammed down her headset and peeled out the CRASS parking lot. Off to the Buckethead’s Hardware in Bradley she went!

Sybil walks into Buckethead’s and looks around. “Welcome to Buckethead’s, where we save you money!” said Samantha, a bright eyed, bushy blonde wearing a green shirt.

“I like the sound of that!” squeals Sybil as they skip back to the lawn and garden department.

“Tony will be able to assist you” Samantha says and walks away.

“Hey Tony, I need a lawnmower that mows the lawn for you.”

“Ha, well we just got those in. They are pretty cool. We have this one operated by remote control. It hooks into your smartphone and even tells time. And then, for just 40.00 more, we have the deluxe model that has a built in radio! It even has a cupholder!”

“Hey Tony, they’re great.” Tony rolls his eyes slightly.

“However, I am not looking to spend a lot. Just gimme the cheapest model.”

“Oh-kay. We have in our economy section the AutonaMower. It mows the lawn for you. It’s our only gas model on the floor and it is on sale. $299.99”

“I’ll take it.” Sybil can barely contain her excitement. She checks out and heads home to Kankakee.

Sybil finishes up her bowl of dog food for dinner and cannot wait to unbox her new toy. She is so excited, she skips her Milk Bone for dessert.

Out to her oh-so-slightly overgrown, manicured lawn she heads. Sybil opens the box. “Instructions? Who needs these?” Sybil chucks the manual in the trash.

Now, how do I turn this thing on? Sybil starts pressing buttons. “Crap.”

“Hey Tony?” Sybil says on her cell phone, on speaker so all the neighbours can hear.

“My lawn mower is not working.”

“Did you try putting batteries in the remote?” Tony asks.

“Oh. Nevermind.” Sybil presses the end key on her phone.

Sybil puts the included two AA batteries into the remote and presses the start key. The remote is programmed and ready to go. However the lawnmower is not. It does not even turn on!

Sybil screams out a string of expletives.

Clouds roll in. As people say in the Midwest, if you do not like the weather, wait five minutes.

It begins to pour.

Sybil gets so infurated that she packs up the AutonaMower, grabs the instruction manual out of the garbage, stuffs it in the box and heads back to Bucketheads in Bradley.

Sybil struts in and straight to Lawn ‘N Garden. “Tony, you sold me a broken model. This thing is crap, your store is crap and you are crap.” She slams it on the floor.

“Did you put gas in it?” Tony asks.

“Ohhhh, grrrrreat.” Sybil says.

Tony laughs and rolls his eyes. It is all he can do after a long day of putting up with customers like Sybil.

Sybil Can’t Fly.

It’s that time again.

Sybil is so excited for the annual CRASS leadership training conference in Hoboken, New Jersey, she can almost wet herself. However, she cannot fly. She does not want to fly, actually. It is not that she is afraid to fly; she just WON’T.

Miss Sybil has an aversion to flying. She does not plain like it and will not do it.

“I would rather take the train. That is the way to travel.” Miss Kibble barks to Mack E. Avelli, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) CEO.

“Do what you want, you’re going to do it anyway. Plus it will save the company money” replies Mr. Avelli.

“Oh, I cannot wait! This is going to be so fun!” Sybil bursts out loud, as she runs around the office with great excitement. “I wonder what city I will see first? “Columbus? Toledo? DeMoranville? This is going to be AWE-some!” Sybil brags, while the rest of the office shakes their collective heads, and sighs.

Sybil has been on her train for 14 hours. She has not slept all night due to the woman behind her who was snoring and the toddler who has been wailing for the past hour.

An assistant conductor walks by. “Excuse me, what time will we be to Hoboken?”

“This train does not go to Hoboken. Your ticket says Newark.”

“What time, then?” snaps Sybil.

“We are running five hours behind.”

The train eventually pulls into Newark, after driving backward through a muddy lake, slowing for eight freight trains and stopping for six.

Sybil missed her shindig by two hours and took the lonely train home, and her bragging rights with her.