“It was a test, like! To plumb the depths of aptitude!”
“Regardless, Mr. Bromley, the company simply cannot tolerate these incidents any further,” Hutchins told Bromley in his best lecture voice. “New recruits in training-”
“New recruits should be smart enough to know you can’t huff liquid nitrogen!” Bromley was panicked. This was a good job, and he was hoping to keep it slightly longer than this.
“I suppose it does represent a certain moral failing on their part.”
“Exactly!” Bromley’s eyes flickered as he sensed a weakness in Hutchins. “They’re stealing company property!”
Hutchins pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He wondered if they could be sued for this. It seemed likely, since the state often sided with idiots, and he, like Bromley, appreciated this job, and needed to maintain his position.
“You’ve seen the warnings, Bromley. It is illegal to use this product in a manner other than indicated on the packaging.” Hutchins paused, staring at the dented truck. “Did you do that?”
“Was like that after second delivery. Some scientist. They’re all dicks. No social skills.”
“No note,” Bromley said. “What if we’re more inclusive, like?”
Hutchins mulled the idea over. Cigarettes were legal, with known health risks. They were used as directed by the packaging. That, to Hutchins at least, seemed to be the key detail.
The next day, the painter stepped back to admire his handiwork on the last truck.
“For leisure?” The painter saw the new logo as if for the first time.
“For leisure,” Hutchins confirmed. He patted Bromley on the back.
“What, like sex?”
Bromley, the glimmer of an idea creeping into the recesses of his brain, began to open his mouth.