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by D.B. Story
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Science Fiction
Description: I won't have a Jungle Bunny working in my department. ... "Jungle Bunny," I finally told her, "Is an ugly, unpleasant term for a person with your lovely skin." So how does a lovely fembot with what some might consider an unfortunate skin choice overcome ugly prejudice in her workplace? Maybe she does it with the help of just the right person.
eBook Publisher: Excessica Publishing,
eBookwise Release Date: April 2011
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [69 KB]
Reading time: 38-54 min.
I work as an independent contractor for a top tier technology company. You'd know the name if you heard it, but since I'm a contractor and not an employee I'm prohibited from using it. That has advantages and disadvantages.
The money is excellent. Far more than I'd make as an employee here, even when you consider I have to buy my own health insurance and pay both halves of my FICA. I get some deductions the regular folks will never see and I set my own hours. Best of all--no meetings and no performance reviews. Technically I don't even have a boss. If I did, I'd be reclassified as an employee and everybody would be unhappy.
On the downside there's no job security, and in some weird ways the company seems determined to treat contractors as less than human. For instance, I'm forbidden from using both the company gym and the company library. I've never been given a good reason why, considering that both are more empty than crowded. I'm allowed to eat in the company-subsidized cafeteria, however, and I have to be extra careful to stay out of all the restricted areas, of which there are several.
Why I'm considered a bigger risk to the company than an employee taking home a third of what they're paying me makes no sense. This job is worth far more than any corporate secrets I might discover. I've been told that I'm allowed into any area my RFID badge will open, so I use that as my list of what's allowed and what's not. There used to be TV cameras all over hidden in the ceilings to make sure nobody misbehaved. I was told that there were so many complaints during that time that they were all pulled out, except for the visible ones over the entrances and exits. I confess I haven't climbed up to check any of the still remaining dark glass globes to see for myself, but I do get on well with the security people because, unlike regular employees, I have to sign in and out every day. I know the guards better than the W-2's do. These guards are the ones who have confirmed to me that the inside surveillance is gone, except for a couple very special cases and I'll take them at their word.
My home is deep inside cubicle land. At least that's what I call it. It seems so much like something out of old Dilbert strips that I can't think of it any other way. Some things just never change. The huge, rectangular second floor is wall-to-wall partitions, twenty-foot ceilings, which make any surveillance cameras hard to actually check out, and rows and aisles, supporting hundreds of employees. It would make for a great maze if someone had displayed a little more imagination, but all we have is a regular grid pattern of walkways and no privacy.
This room is directly above the manufacturing floor, and is so large it takes me a good five minutes to walk its perimeter. Someone was smart enough to stencil coordinates high up on the supporting columns. The first thing you learn is that everyone gives directions from the nearest column. After awhile the system becomes natural--which is a pretty unnatural occurrence.
Built into the long sides of the building are several pairs of restrooms, multiple break rooms, a copy center, library, stairs, freight elevator, and the restricted labs with their own automatic doors. I can see into these labs since the doors are glass, but I don't even try my badge on these doors. I know that the security system logs all failed authentications and I don't want to have to explain why I thought my job involved a trip into the ink lab, or any other.
Because I set my own hours I prefer to start late and end later. I don't have to get up early this way and I miss all the traffic in both directions. This much is allowed of me. And after hours I'm allowed to use some of the neat adult toys--expensive scanners and large format printers--that I'll never own at home. Since my social life is nil at the moment, leaving late doesn't eat into any potential dating scenarios despite my current income.
As such, I see things the regular employees miss, like the cleaning crews. My favorite secret joke is watching the cleaning crews empty the locked wastebaskets we are all supposed to use for confidential company materials. After being warned about being careful with company information my first day, I quickly got into the habit of throwing everything except used Kleenex into them. This is easy to do since I'm low man on the totem pole to every employee and so the nearest bin was put in my cube. I can't complain about that, or a few other things that they get away with storing in "my space". As I said, that's how contractors are treated--good points and bad points.