Bob

First story in a long time.

Bob

 

Bob was a factory worker for Ford. He wasn't a good one, though--in fact, he was one of the worst workers in history, causing accidents left and right and asking for sick leave for a sprained toe. He was egotistical and vain, and often hogged the shiniest machines to check his reflection. No one knew how he was still working. Apparently he had been fired from his current job twenty-six times to date, but had somehow remained on staff through a combination of occasional spurts of energy that provided an acceptable product and a little bit of green under the table.

 

So one day Bob was working at his machine, pressing random buttons and laughing at the deformed logos he churned out. His boss approached him and said, "So, Bob, a lot of your coworkers have been saying that you hog the vending machine and take everything before they get there."

Bob smiled and said, "But sir, all that money goes to the company. I've created a massive economic chain that provides us with added income to make these...eh...great cars."

The boss thought hard for a moment, trying to detect any possible sarcasm. He failed. "I see. Well, return to work then, and...hey! What's up with these logos?"

Bob paused, and then said, "I'm cranking out the new vintage logos--didn't you get the memo, sir? One in ten of every Ford buyers will have a beautiful vintage logo on front and/or back of their car!"

The boss thought again. "Genius! I should have thought of it earlier. Although it does seem strange that buyers would want logos that resemble starfruit..." The boss tottered away, muttering to himself.

Bob breathed out a massive sigh. Once again, saved by the massive intellect his mother and father had produced. Smiling smugly, Bob continued pressing random buttons--and being paid to do it.

Two hours later he left work and was hit by a car.