Your name is Blake T. Marshall. Some would call you a philanderer, a cheat, a crook. Not only would you agree but you'd add a few other choice descriptions such as "able to buy and sell you," and "harsh against those with foul tongues." You're in the money making business, for you, paper manufacture is just a means to an end, an end with big green dollar signs. That's why whenever some environmental nut calls you on the phone you need to vent your frustration to somebody beneath you.
"Johnson! Get the hell in here!" you yell angrily. Johnson opens the door slightly and peeks his head in.
"You, uh, um... you called me Mr. Marshall?" Johnson said weakly. He stared at you like a deer in a car's headlights. He was an assistant for your 5 secretaries, mostly drudge work.
"Yeah. I was thinking, could you help me with a problem I'm having?"
"Why, y-yes sir."
"Times are tough right? It's hard to find a job. You've been out there right looking around right? But see, this is MY problem. Here I AM, paying you $10.50 an hour, however, when I say "Get The Hell In Here," you just stand outside my office? So Johnson, tell me, what am I still paying you for?"
"Please Mr. Marshall, I'm sorry, I just thought that you might have a quick task, I didn't know you wanted to talk,"
"Of course I want to talk Johnson. You're my favorite employee. Why wouldn't I want to talk?"
"T-that's very kind of you to say M... M-Mr. Marshall." Johnson takes a seat across from your desk. "What d-did you want to t-talk about?"
"The E.S.A.G. Johnson. That's what I want to talk about! (The Environment Safety Association of Gotham)" Bolting up from your desk you dash your papers in the air. "They're filing another law suit against our company. Something about harming the environment of Gotham, pollution and some other nonsense. Do these people realize just how much it takes to recycle paper? The time, energy and money spent on recycling a ton of paper could buy me 3 times the amount of a new shipment. So what if a forest or two has to come down to meet the demand? It's not like they're the ones who have to supply it. Gotham City is the second largest consumer we've got outside of Metropolis. Do you know what that means Johnson"
"We, uh, get a lot of money from them?"
"Damn straight we get a lot of money from them! Besides, Gotham's forests are cheap. The city wants to expand but it doesn't have the budget to get rid of the amount of trees for major urban development. Not to mention, if I shipped my foresting operations to another country I'd have even more of these lunatics banging on my front door." You stop ranting and let out a deep sigh, "The last thing I need is for my company to become politically liable."
"Get the hell out of here Johnson,"
----------------------------------------------------
Hours pass by as you sort through your paperwork, make a thousand calls and negotiate business deals. At least the cash is good, otherwise you'd fire everyone and quit. Johnson comes by and tells you that the workday is over and that everyone is leaving. You wave him off and tell him to go, you'll lock up. When you think that you're finally all alone, you hear a knock at the door.
"Dammit Johnson, I thought I told you to leave..." you mutter to yourself as you get up from your desk to open the door. You unlock the bolt and open the door.
"What is it Johns--?" Speechlessness! Standing before you is a voluptuous red head in a green dress.
"Hello Mr. Marshall, I hope I'm not interrupting."
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