The Call Centre transfer to the planet Bidura is turning into a complete mess...literally.
Starfleet thought it would be cheaper to tranfer their Call Centre facility from San Francisco to the planet Bidura. After all, the inhabitants only want paying in boulder chips.
Then we found the handbook the Bidurans were given to operate it was four centuries out of date. As a result they are dressed in outfits just before the year 2000 and the computers are extra large ancient models.
If that was bad enough, we found out that when a Biduran is stressed, they disintegrate into a blue molten bubble.
"What are we going to to." I ask the staff, "The Bidurans clearly aren't cut out for Call Centre work."
"Threaten to assilimilate them if they do not work harder." comments Seven sternly.
"All we are going to end up with is a lot of blue bubbles." Beverly replies, "We have to prevent that happening."
"I agree." I tell them, "But how do we do that?"
"A more relaxed environment?" suggests Deanna, "As they learn, they will be more calm."
"They could even have casual days." adds Geordi.
"I do not think this will good." states Worf, "They are there to operate the Call Centre, not to sit in scruffy clothes and relax."
"I agree, Mr Worf." I tell him, "But let's just try a slightly relaxed office manner and see how it goes. After all, we don't want any more office casualties."
A few hours later, after the relaxed atmosphere has been announced to the Biduran Call Centre, I go with the rest of the senior staff to see the results.
Three Bidurans were crowded around a computer; were they so proud of how they were working, they were showing their colleagues?
We took a sneaky look. They were looking at the GalaxyNet that had been installed to read between called. Though the lights were flashing away on their telephones, they were taking no notice. They were laughing at the pictures they were seeing.
"I have never seen a Cardassian in THAT sort of pose." commented Ro Laren.
We looked around to see what else was going on.
Four Bidurans had gone from their desks, although they were still meant to be there and had decided to have a break in the meeting room. Three were laughing about an anecdote concerning two male Bidurans, a female Silakan and a female Ovaka. As they creased over laughing, a fourth Biduran was asleep.
"This will cease immediately!" Worf declared.
"You are lucky not to be assimilated for your behaviour!" Seven adds.
The four look up at us and burst into howls of laughter.
"So, sir." I tell Admiral Ryan on the videoviewer, "I can't see this working at all. The Bidurans have out of date equipment, turn into blue molten puddles when stressed, and lose all sense of order when allowed to relax a little."
"You may be right, Captain." Ryan replies, "We'll have to restart the Call Centre here in San Francisco. There could be a few few problems."
"What might that be?"
"Err, well, we fired all the staff last week." he tells me with an apologetic look, "We will have to give them a raise to get them back."
I sign off and smile.
It's a good job I'm not an Admiral.