It was official. Tom was bored out of his bloody mind. How on earth could all these people be so gullible? This was the matter Tom pondered on as he spun his pen around, and around, and around, and aroouuuuuund, and- “Tom.” Tom was jolted out of his musings by the soft spoken, yet stern voice of his superior. A silver haired man with a vaguely eastern European accent, nobody knew, however, where he was from, because any time someone asked, he would just chuckle and send them on their way. Things like this made working in a scam call center very peculiar, especially paired with how despite being very illegal, they operated much like any other office. Some of the newer, more stupid hires believed that they were just the best at their job, but the more experienced employees suspected their superior had connections. Good ones. Ones that kept them hidden from the law enforcement’s eye. Oh, right, back to the subject matter at hand. Tom had yet to respond. “Grindelwald.” He spoke in a respectful timbre, and at a regular volume. Tom was nothing if not controlled. Grindelwald smiled peculiarly. “How many times must I tell you, Tom, you must call me Gellert.” Tom inwardly rolled his eyes, slightly vexed by the man’s insistence. “What can I help you with, Grindelwald?” The older man sighed, and finally got to what he had called Tom’s name for. “Tom, how many calls have you made today?”
Tom checked his numbers as if he needed to, feeling the action tiresome when he had perfect recall. “290” Was his curt reply. Grindelwald tsk’d at him. “10 calls under minimum, and I find you here, daydreaming at your desk? I expected better from you, Tom.” Tom felt himself grow annoyed at the nitpicking of his work, then at the over-use of his first name in casual conversation. In any case, Tom straightened his back. “Of course sir, I’ll bring myself up to minimum shortly.” Grindelwald sighed at the impersonal speech, before giving a slight nod and walking back to his office, the blinds closed.
Tom looked back to his computer. “Pssst”, oh good lord. “Pssssst”, please no. “Riddle, god damnit!” Riddle sighed very, very deeply, and turned to glare at the one who was oh-so-aggressively whispering at him. “What is it, Lestrange?” He asked in a deadpan, leaving no room for pleasantries. Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, his nearest cubicle neighbor, backed off guiltily. “Apologies, sir.” It was worth mentioning that Tom was actually the Assistant Manager. Bellatrix continued, “I was only wondering if you were alright, is all, sir.” Tom sighed. “My mental well-being is no concern of yours, Lestrange, I suggest you get back to work.” Truthfully, Tom was lamenting the declining intelligence of Britain. It seemed that anyone could swindle them out of their money with a sad enough sounding plea. Of course, when it came to Tom’s victims, they couldn’t really be blamed for their gullibility. Tom had a particular talent when it came to charming people. It was how he came to be hired here anyway. Who would have thought that a con-artist on the street could be scouted by the creator of one of the most successful scam call centers in Britain. Tom’s charm got him far on the streets, and even further in the call center, it could be said that Tom was well off, but you would never know. He kept himself in a modest apartment, and practically never spent money on frivolities. He found them wasteful, and most of his earnings went to either investments, or straight to his savings.
Last week, however, Tom had made a rather big purchase for himself. A sleek, elegant, dark oak, hardwood desk, with a polished shine, and the most regal air to it. He bought this because he was finally being moved to his own office. Right next door to Grindelwald's, and a little smaller. Tom was pleased with this, as now he hoped that the others in the office would stop trying to befriend him. He never wanted to make friends, only subordinates, and of that, he was sure to succeed. Today, Tom only needed to finish packing his desk, and he could move to his new office, away from all the bumbling sycophants, all hoping to suck up to him and get in his good graces. Anyone who looked at him could tell his greatness, and it caused people to either be extremely attracted, or extremely wary of him. Which suited him just fine, fear was a powerful motivator, after all.
Tom finally pulled himself out of his thoughts, when he realized had apparently finished the last 10 calls needed to make minimum requirements while completely spaced out. Tom gave himself a mental pat on the back, and carried the last of his supplies to his office,which was completely outfitted with a connected phone, and computer. It had a window, but considering that they were on the top floor of the rather sizable 8 floor building, he had no concerns about being seen. He sat down in his large leather chair (another splurge he had made when he found out he was getting an office) and he sighed deeply. The only sounds reaching his ears being that of sweet, sweet, silence. Knock knock knock. Tom was suddenly overcome with insurmountable levels of rage, but he kept his head. “Enter.” He intoned in a cold, clear voice. The wild black curls of Bellatrix Lestrange were visible before her face, as she quickly darted in, along with her husband Rabastan and his brother Rodolphus, both looking wary but had a mischievous gleam in their eyes that made Tom concerned, the reluctant pair of black haired Snape and platinum haired Malfoy, both looking scared out of their wits, and the one person in this office who he was somewhat close with. Tiberius Nott. He was an old man who had the patience to explain and accompany Tom when he was still new, and before Tom came to see his wild, vengeful, and downright delinquent behaviors. So, to see him enter his office with a gleeful gleam on his face, Tom was… put off, to say the least.
“Mrs. Lestrange. What is going on here?” He asked, coldly. Bellatrix, to her credit, only slightly winced at his tone, before whispering to the group, who very, very reluctantly nodded black. Apart from Nott. He was gleeful. So, Bellatrix continued louder, “Ready everyone? On the count of three!” She turned to face him, and counted aloud. “One, two, three!”, and everybody pulled out a small cardboard tube from behind their backs, which they twisted the ends of to make them release and huge puff of confetti, raining down in the air. “Congratulations!” Everyone said at the same time, Bellatrix leading along with Tiberius, and everyone else murmuring. Bellatrix quickly retook charge, attempting to explain, “We wanted to congratulate you on your new office, because we know how hard you worked, and how much you deserve it and-”, “Out.” He interrupted as calmly as he could, gripping the edge of his table in a show of restraint. Everyone, seeing his frightful expression, quickly fled out of the room. As they filed out of the door, there could be quiet bickering heard, and a mumbled, ‘I told you he wouldn’t like it!’. Only Tiberius lingered, patting him on the hand, and telling him to not be too upset, and that they were being thoughtful, before leaving the room and shutting the door. Tom was absolutely certain that Tiberius was the man behind the plan here, but quickly turned away from that thought, and towards the rest of his office. Absolutely covered in confetti. He sighed. He supposed he had a lot of cleaning up to do, as there was no way that they were coming back into his office any time soon.
