“THIRTY DAYS?? You simply cannot be serious!!”
We cut to the drab, dreary office of Mr. Darby. He’s alone at his desk wearing a highlighter-yellow suit, his salt-and-paprika hair clashing horribly, and with a smartphone to his ear.
“No, but hang on, please listen! We’ve made a substantial financial arrangement with Brets Chips, and if we’re completely banished from the Jabber platform for thirty days, we won’t be able to fulfill our end of the contract, and if THAT happens-”
Darby is apparently cut off by the voice on the other line. After a few tense moments, his lips twist and he gives a curt nod.
“……no, I understand why you would-”
“…right, PRIME’s policies and by-laws take precedence over FLAMBERGE’s independent brand deals, we understand that, but there are a few things YOU need to understand! First, it wasn’t FLAMBERGE making all of those hashtag-ad, hashtag-sponsor commercial tweets on behalf of Brets! It wasn’t FLAMBERGE tagging every Jabber post with the newly-released Brets emoji! It was ME! Suspend ME, fine ME, don’t do this to FLAMBERGE, he’s finally getting a foothold in this company! Back to back wins! Besides, he’s already so-”
Darby is apparently cut off once again. His mouth is as contorted as if he has a handful of Lemonheads in his mouth with how twisted and pursed it’s become; his eyes squint before finally closing as he drops his head in defeat.
“Yes. Ok. I understand.”
We hear a faint sound of a dial tone from Darby’s phone and he just drops it to his desk with a clatter. He runs both of his hands through his hair in frustration before grabbing a sticky note off of his computer monitor. The camera pans and we see what is written…
3:30PM – FLAMBERGE MEETING + JABBER APOLOGY
…a previously-fuzzy analog clock on the far wall comes into focus. It’s 3:52PM.
Darby picks his phone back up and cycles through his contacts, selecting one – we see FLAMBERGE’s name appear on the screen, followed by a ring…
A fourth. Robot voicemail prompt.
“…heyyyyy, it’s me again. Checking in, making sure you knew that we’re supposed to be meeting now. No rush! It’s all good! Just…please call back whenever you get this. It’s Darby. Thanks pal!”
Darby hangs up and then shakes his head in disgust as he mouths the word “pal” one more time. He nervously taps his fingers on his desk for a few moments.