There was a light knock on the door of Mr. Noir's office. He had just finished polishing all of his plaques, that is, his assistant Cindy had finished polishing them and he had given useful advice. "A little bit more around the rim" he would say, and Cindy would nod deligently as she was paid to do. Yes, Light Noir had planty of plaques on his wall. Five claimed to be for Agent of the Year, five years running 2016-2020. Another was, allegedly, from a Home Owner's Association for having the Most Beautiful Home in the neighborhood and yet another was for having the Sexiest Wife in the City. None of them had been awarded by any recognized body, of course, that's the nice thing about plaques and trophies. You can just go tell them to etch your name on them and pay for it and you can have whatever you want. Dusting his hands off Light said "Good work on these Cindy, keep it up and you're destined to win Assistant of the Year." she nodded curtly as she was paid to do.
Light situated himself behind his large mahogany desk and gestured towards Cindy and the door "Please let whoever that is in while you make your way out Cindy, and make sure to be on the lookout for any gifts from my wife. She knows, as well as you do, that it's award season." Cindy nodded appreciatively and opened the door, revealing who else but the very handsome Wes Eriksen. Cindy scuttled out as he made his way in. "Good afternoon, sir!" he said happily as he made his way into the office. Light gestured for him to take the seat across the desk and responded,
"It certainly is now that you're here! I wanted to congratulate you on the season you had." Wesley fidgetted ucomfortably in his chair, this was a new strategy Light was trying out where he padded his chair quite unevenly so as to throw off anyone stuck in a meeting with him. When he was describing his vision to the Interior Decorator the term "workplace Thunderdome" was used on more than one occasion.
"Well I certainly appreciate that sir, but I don't exactly understand why. We did fine, I guess, but it wasn't exactly the dream season we might have been aiming for." Light waved off his concerns as he leaned back in his chair. He spun halfway around to admire all his plaques (it was getting to a point that it looked like a fuckin' Shenanigan's but I, the author, digress)
"Yes, perhaps," he said over his shoulder, making sure to use an exaggerated hand movement to signify he wasn't simply speaking, but expressing "but it's always difficult to enter a new league, and I felt you made a good account of yourself. In fact, well, I wanted to give you this:" Light faced Wes once more and leaned down as he pressed the intercom button. "Cindy, would you please bring in the gift I had for Wesley, dear?"
For a moment Light looked at Wesley, and Wesley looked at Light. Wes blinked. Then the door opened. Cindy walked in with a package and placed it on the desk. Cindy looked at Light, worried. Light looked at Cindy, his eyes narrowing into slits. "How long did it take you to get here, Cindy?"
"I, uh, 18 seconds, maybe?"
"Actually it was 25."
"Oh, well, I-"
"Do you think Wes likes to wait?"
"Oh it's alright really-" Wes tried to say
"Do you think a FOOTBALL SUPERSTAR LIKES TO WAIT CINDY!?"
"No! I'm sorry sir, I'm sorry Wes!"
"Really, it's al-"
"GET BACK TO YOUR DESK! AND WE'LL SEE HOW COURTNEY LIKES BEING ASSISTANT OF THE YEAR EH!?" Cindy ran out of the room crying.
"She's a nice girl, very prompt" Light said as if nothing had happened. "Well go ahead, open the box then Wes."
Wes placed the package in his lap and began tearing at the paper, revealing an unassuming cardboard box. Within the box was a beautiful little trophy depicting a man jumping up to catch a football, and enscribed was the text:
Wesley Ericcson
#1 Rockie of the Year
"Uh, I really appreciate this sir," Wesdrley said tentatively, "but there is a typo on it..."
"Fuck, I was hoping you wouldn't notice it said rockie. Look I can almost guarantee I told them to put rookie on there, but you know how these people are. They kept complaining that they were overworked and understaffed, but come on, how many enscribing do they have to do, am I right?"
"Actually, I meant it's my nam-"
"Jesus, Wesley, just accept the gift already! I bent over backwards to get that made for you!"
"Well, right, thank you Mr. Noir. You've been nothing but a good agent to me." Light leaned back in his chair. He almost felt tears coming to his eyes, but then remembered he had his tear ducts removed six years ago because they were a sign of weakness. "Did you want me to come today just to give me this trophy, Mr. Noir?"
"No, son, I came to talk to you about something much more serious." Light said leaning on the desk. His fingers formed a steeple before rising to stroke his chin. He did everything he could to appear both aloof and in control. No one could've possibly been fooled. Except for the handsome idiot Wesley.
"Oh dear, what is it sir?" He said with a naive energy.
"Well it's just that- the Liberty have informed me you don't intend to exercise your option this year." Light leaned back with a grimace over his mouth and melodrama filling his eyes. He tried to think back to what that guy on Friday Night Lights did. Yeah, that's the stuff. Wes simply looked confused.
"Well, yeah. They're paying me quite well and I'm really happy on the team. I get to play alongside a lot of my great friends, what's the problem?"
"The problem, young mister Wesley, is that you could be getting paid more money."
"Literally why do you think that, I'm already getting paid more than-"
"Mr. Eriksen, I do not want to hear it! You're putting the good of yourself before the good of the team!"
"But the Liberty don't have any better options than me, I know they invested in Smoothie, but the other options are getting older."
"What? Wesley when I say the team I'm talking about the real team, not those silly football players you go around and throw the ball with, but the real team in our heart. You, me, Cindy, maybe Courtney we'll see how things work out there, my wife, my house, my dog Chester. Really we're more of a family."
"Wait, I've never met your wife, or dog, or house, or whoever Courtney is."
"Wesley, I only get paid 30% of what you make. Do you know how little that is? Do you know how hard it is to live off $600,000 a year?"
"My parents only made about 80k between the two of them and they did really fine."
"Well who cares about family Wesley, you're missing the point! This is my livelihood at stake!"
"Sir, I don't know what to say. I respect all you've done for me, but I have to put my foot down. Philadelphia has treated me right, and I plan on staying there regardless of what you, your wife, your dog, or your house has to say!" Wesley had never raised his voice like this before! It was exhilirating, it was terrifying! Sure, there had been a couple of times he let out a dramatic yelp in the middle of a game, but this was different. Light didn't know how to react. He cleared his throat.
"Well very well then, if you think that's the best, you think that's the best." He raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture that said I-give-up-but-also-I-know-you're-wrong. Wesley stammered slightly.
"I- uh, I hope this is the end of that then. Again, thank you for the trophy."
"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. You've really hurt your chances of winning it again next year though."
"Well, sure I won't be a rookie anyway, so"
"You can be rockie whenever you want though, Wes."
"..."
"..."
"I'm going to see myself out."
And thus Wesley Eriksen continued his career with the Philadelphia Liberty, and finally got the awards recognition he deserved.
[1409 words]
Light situated himself behind his large mahogany desk and gestured towards Cindy and the door "Please let whoever that is in while you make your way out Cindy, and make sure to be on the lookout for any gifts from my wife. She knows, as well as you do, that it's award season." Cindy nodded appreciatively and opened the door, revealing who else but the very handsome Wes Eriksen. Cindy scuttled out as he made his way in. "Good afternoon, sir!" he said happily as he made his way into the office. Light gestured for him to take the seat across the desk and responded,
"It certainly is now that you're here! I wanted to congratulate you on the season you had." Wesley fidgetted ucomfortably in his chair, this was a new strategy Light was trying out where he padded his chair quite unevenly so as to throw off anyone stuck in a meeting with him. When he was describing his vision to the Interior Decorator the term "workplace Thunderdome" was used on more than one occasion.
"Well I certainly appreciate that sir, but I don't exactly understand why. We did fine, I guess, but it wasn't exactly the dream season we might have been aiming for." Light waved off his concerns as he leaned back in his chair. He spun halfway around to admire all his plaques (it was getting to a point that it looked like a fuckin' Shenanigan's but I, the author, digress)
"Yes, perhaps," he said over his shoulder, making sure to use an exaggerated hand movement to signify he wasn't simply speaking, but expressing "but it's always difficult to enter a new league, and I felt you made a good account of yourself. In fact, well, I wanted to give you this:" Light faced Wes once more and leaned down as he pressed the intercom button. "Cindy, would you please bring in the gift I had for Wesley, dear?"
For a moment Light looked at Wesley, and Wesley looked at Light. Wes blinked. Then the door opened. Cindy walked in with a package and placed it on the desk. Cindy looked at Light, worried. Light looked at Cindy, his eyes narrowing into slits. "How long did it take you to get here, Cindy?"
"I, uh, 18 seconds, maybe?"
"Actually it was 25."
"Oh, well, I-"
"Do you think Wes likes to wait?"
"Oh it's alright really-" Wes tried to say
"Do you think a FOOTBALL SUPERSTAR LIKES TO WAIT CINDY!?"
"No! I'm sorry sir, I'm sorry Wes!"
"Really, it's al-"
"GET BACK TO YOUR DESK! AND WE'LL SEE HOW COURTNEY LIKES BEING ASSISTANT OF THE YEAR EH!?" Cindy ran out of the room crying.
"She's a nice girl, very prompt" Light said as if nothing had happened. "Well go ahead, open the box then Wes."
Wes placed the package in his lap and began tearing at the paper, revealing an unassuming cardboard box. Within the box was a beautiful little trophy depicting a man jumping up to catch a football, and enscribed was the text:
Wesley Ericcson
#1 Rockie of the Year
"Uh, I really appreciate this sir," Wesdrley said tentatively, "but there is a typo on it..."
"Fuck, I was hoping you wouldn't notice it said rockie. Look I can almost guarantee I told them to put rookie on there, but you know how these people are. They kept complaining that they were overworked and understaffed, but come on, how many enscribing do they have to do, am I right?"
"Actually, I meant it's my nam-"
"Jesus, Wesley, just accept the gift already! I bent over backwards to get that made for you!"
"Well, right, thank you Mr. Noir. You've been nothing but a good agent to me." Light leaned back in his chair. He almost felt tears coming to his eyes, but then remembered he had his tear ducts removed six years ago because they were a sign of weakness. "Did you want me to come today just to give me this trophy, Mr. Noir?"
"No, son, I came to talk to you about something much more serious." Light said leaning on the desk. His fingers formed a steeple before rising to stroke his chin. He did everything he could to appear both aloof and in control. No one could've possibly been fooled. Except for the handsome idiot Wesley.
"Oh dear, what is it sir?" He said with a naive energy.
"Well it's just that- the Liberty have informed me you don't intend to exercise your option this year." Light leaned back with a grimace over his mouth and melodrama filling his eyes. He tried to think back to what that guy on Friday Night Lights did. Yeah, that's the stuff. Wes simply looked confused.
"Well, yeah. They're paying me quite well and I'm really happy on the team. I get to play alongside a lot of my great friends, what's the problem?"
"The problem, young mister Wesley, is that you could be getting paid more money."
"Literally why do you think that, I'm already getting paid more than-"
"Mr. Eriksen, I do not want to hear it! You're putting the good of yourself before the good of the team!"
"But the Liberty don't have any better options than me, I know they invested in Smoothie, but the other options are getting older."
"What? Wesley when I say the team I'm talking about the real team, not those silly football players you go around and throw the ball with, but the real team in our heart. You, me, Cindy, maybe Courtney we'll see how things work out there, my wife, my house, my dog Chester. Really we're more of a family."
"Wait, I've never met your wife, or dog, or house, or whoever Courtney is."
"Wesley, I only get paid 30% of what you make. Do you know how little that is? Do you know how hard it is to live off $600,000 a year?"
"My parents only made about 80k between the two of them and they did really fine."
"Well who cares about family Wesley, you're missing the point! This is my livelihood at stake!"
"Sir, I don't know what to say. I respect all you've done for me, but I have to put my foot down. Philadelphia has treated me right, and I plan on staying there regardless of what you, your wife, your dog, or your house has to say!" Wesley had never raised his voice like this before! It was exhilirating, it was terrifying! Sure, there had been a couple of times he let out a dramatic yelp in the middle of a game, but this was different. Light didn't know how to react. He cleared his throat.
"Well very well then, if you think that's the best, you think that's the best." He raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture that said I-give-up-but-also-I-know-you're-wrong. Wesley stammered slightly.
"I- uh, I hope this is the end of that then. Again, thank you for the trophy."
"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. You've really hurt your chances of winning it again next year though."
"Well, sure I won't be a rookie anyway, so"
"You can be rockie whenever you want though, Wes."
"..."
"..."
"I'm going to see myself out."
And thus Wesley Eriksen continued his career with the Philadelphia Liberty, and finally got the awards recognition he deserved.
[1409 words]
![[Image: ndvj4VD.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/ndvj4VD.jpeg)
