A/N: Hi everyone and welcome to The District! This is an ambitious endeavor, but I am a huge fan of both The Hunger Games and The Office, so I thought I would try my hand at writing something humorous and combining two great loves in my life! This fic will contain themes and plots from both fandoms (some heavily borrowed and others mere references). For example, this episode mirrors the pilot of both the British and US Office, but it won't always be that way. I'll borrow certain lines, themes, or characteristics of people from both, and this will loosely follow the timeline of the television show, but it is not a strict retelling of two stories you may already know. This will ultimately be Hunger Games characters transposed into an office setting, so if you have watched The Office, you'll recognize the parallels. If you haven't watched the series and you just want to try a humorous AU, I've structured it that way so that it's easier to read. I'm extremely nervous about putting this out there, so your feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated!
Thank you and enjoy The District!
** Additional note: So the use of random italic sections don't throw people off, these are meant to take characters privately out of the action, in what the mockumentary-type shows call "Talking Heads" (which I've just delineated as private interviews). It shouldn't be too confusing, but just in case it was at all, I wanted to clarify!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Both The Hunger Games and The Office (US) belong to their respective owners. I also do not own any topical references made (ie: Real Housewives, the song 'Girl on Fire', or Geico...you get it) in this chapter.
Year One, Episode One: Welcome to District 12!
Haymitch Abernathy is extremely hungover when a film documentary crew arrives on his condo doorstep one particularly chilly September morning.
Therefore, Haymitch Abernathy is extremely pissed off when a film documentary crew arrives on his condo doorstep one particularly chilly September morning.
Donning nothing but a pair of unclean boxers and gripping the neck of a beer bottle, he shouts several unsavory phrases at the cameras. His choice wording raises a few red censorship flags.
One of his snarkier comments causes Haymitch to burst into a fit of laughter. When asked by one of the crewmen if 'Hungover Guy' was an impression or a bit to break the ice with the camera crew, Haymitch stops laughing and replaces his smile with the world's most terrifying scowl.
Before Haymitch can throw an empty bottle at the intruders, the director, Cressida, has to remind him that they are, in fact, the very same film crew he had spoken with on the phone just a week ago, when he agreed to filming a documentary.
The documentary, Cressida re-explains to Haymitch, is a ten-year project that will chronicle the daily lives of the twelfth office branch of Panem Electric, a small company that sells coal-powered electric. She then recaps how they discussed that District Twelve is located in eastern Pennsylvania, just outside of the city of Allentown, and how Haymitch had repeatedly told Cressida the "fun fact" that Allentown is the third largest city in Pennsylvania over the phone as well.
With a nervous glance into the camera, Haymitch, the regional manager of the branch, begins to laugh.
"Oh, yeah. I remember you now. You're the one who had to look up my fun fact about Allentown because you didn't believe me. Damn, I must have been plastered last week when I agreed to this! You also must have sounded hotter on the phone, Goldilocks, because I wouldn't have agreed to this otherwise," Haymitch tells the director plainly. "Well, on with the show! I'll go put on some clothes."
Cressida steps back behind the camera and vows to stay there going forward.
"Welcome, welcome! So lovely to have you all here at our District office!" a bubbly woman, clad head to toe in frills and sequins, greets the crew as soon as they walk through the door of Panem Electric. She is flaunting what appears to be a freshly-done (at home) orange hair-dye job.
Haymitch is quick to push her away.
"Get outta here, Trinket…wait your turn in the annex where you belong, you technicolored waste of space," Haymitch hisses. Several of those seated at their desks turn to view the altercation, while others ignore it entirely. From the looks of it, this kind of banter between the two is normal.
The woman huffs and shouts back, "Manners, Haymitch! We have been over this many times. You cannot behave like this in the workplace, especially to a woman!"
He turns to the camera and jabs a thumb at the jilted woman. "She's from HR. She's the worst. Bane of my existence, to be exact."
"Thank you, Haymitch, for humiliating me in front of everyone."
"My pleasure, Princess."
"And would it kill you to be on time for work? You know, we have a very tight schedule to adhere to around here."
"Great, glad to hear it, but I'm the boss. You work for Human Resources. I do what I want, and you have no say..."
"Actually, I do have a say..."
"Point is, Princess, I'm fun, you're not. Lesson's up. Back to the annex, Effie."
Haymitch takes one of the bright orange curls in between his fingers. "And what on earth did you do to your head? You look like a goddamn bottle of Sunny D."
Effie juts out her lower lip and recoils from his touch.
"The bottle said that the color was supposed to be Sun-Kissed Tangerine."
Haymitch hoots and hollers at this. "There's nothing sun-kissed about that shade of tangerine, Trinket. Now scoot!"
She leaves, but not without an overly-dramatic pout, followed by an exit that achieves its goal of getting most of the office's attention.
A blue-eyed young man with shaggy blonde hair has been exchanging a series of knowing smirks with the girl at the reception desk. When Effie storms past him, a whirling dervish of orange and sequins, the man swivels in his desk chair and immediately looks into the camera with a face that seems to say he cannot offer any explanation.
Haymitch steps into his personal office and motions for the cameras to follow him. The crew decides to take a moment to peek into the boss' office for the first time. It is sparsely decorated, save a few knick-knacks on his desk, and the floor is mostly littered with discarded bottles.
The camera lingers on the leather notebook reading 'Diary' on the front cover. It has been left unattended on Haymitch's desk.
When Haymitch spots where the cameras are trained, he claims that the diary is really "a book of strategies and ideas for his memoirs". He mutters something about a screenplay under his breath.
The same blonde man from before enters the office, only knocking on the doorframe after the fact. He wears khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt with a complementing royal blue tie. The sleeves of the shirt have been rolled up to the crooks of his elbows. His appearance reflects a well-maintained appearance of caring just enough to scrape by and genuine disinterest.
"Ah, Peeta Mellark, one of our salesmen here at Panem. Competent, handsome, but unmotivated as hell, this guy!" Haymitch announces. The man, Peeta, glances nervously at the cameras before returning to the task at hand.
"I just got off the phone with the Lehigh Valley School District Superintendent, and I, um, couldn't close the sale," Peeta explains sheepishly. His stare volleys between the camera and Haymitch, as if he is afraid of the lack of motivation that Haymitch exploited will be associated with the sale.
"And where are they thinking of going instead?"
"PPL."
Haymitch hisses a single "Dammit!" before explaining that PPL, the main electric provider for their the area, is known around the office as the "Big, Bad Guy". Peeta mutters that only Haymitch calls them by that name.
The cameras train themselves again on Haymitch, who now grins at Peeta, despite the disappointing news.
"Did you try any of the selling strategies we discussed in yesterday's meeting?"
Peeta's weight shifts from one foot to another.
"While those strategies were great, that's not really my selling style."
Haymitch leans back in his chair and lets out a cackle.
"Boy, you wouldn't know style if a J Crew Magazine bit you on your lazy ass. Watch and learn from the master, young grasshopper."
He then sits forward and begins dialing a number into his phone.
When asked about his management techniques in a private interview, Haymitch responded:
"Some would say that people 'aren't my thing'. But selling coal is my thing. Being a boss, in both the literal and cool senses of the word, is my thing. Sometimes not wearing shoes in the office is my thing. I like to consider myself a mentor to everyone here, guiding them while overseeing them. Occasionally offering nuggets, like turds or, or like skipping stones, of golden advice. I'm like a wiser, more attractive, single version of the dad in the Cheaper by the Dozen movies. Great films."
"You have a very simple task to do: sell. Oldest trick in the book: don't run right into the mouth of the sale. That's what they want, that's what they expect. Run away for a bit, get as far away as possible."
"That's…that can't be right," Peeta observes. Before he can add anything else, Haymitch holds up a single finger and begins to talk sweetly to the previously discussed Superintendent, Clara Brown.
When asked in a private interview about Haymitch's sales strategies, Peeta Mellark explains that they are all as convoluted as the one Haymitch explained to him in his office.
"Other strategies include: Buddying Up, Giving Them Something to Root For, Pre-Game Your Calls—which went over really well with HR—Play Your Part, Remember Who Your Enemy Is, and my personal favorite, Stay Alive," Peeta elaborates with a shrug. "Couldn't tell you what a single one of them actually means or what it has to do with selling coal-powered electric plans, but boy, are those titles catchy."
He then tells the cameras that as a boss, Haymitch is ninety-five percent alcohol and five percent straight out nonsense.
"Clara! How are you, Beautiful?...How are the grandkids?...Good to hear. Listen, I heard you're thinking about switching over to the Big, Bad Guy...PPL…I know, you just spoke with him, but I thought we could talk now, Superintendent to Manager. I'm not about to run away so quickly…"
Peeta jams his hands into his pockets, clearly very uncomfortable as he continues to be forced to watch his boss haggle with the woman on the other end, not to mention contradict his previous advice to 'get as far away as possible'.
"Now, listen here, Ms. Brown…I understand, but…" Haymitch suddenly scowls, and he pounds a fist on his desk. Speaking in a threatening tone, he continues to bargain.
"Alright, you old hag, here's what we're gonna do. My salesman, Peeta Mellark, is going to call you back up tomorrow and offer you twenty-five percent off on your first month of heating this year, and you're going to like it. I'm giving you and your school brats something to root for here, Ms. Brown, like young love, or accidentally not getting charged for guacamole at Chipotle…Excellent! You'll be hearing from us tomorrow."
There is no containing the smug look that crosses Haymitch's face when he hangs up the phone and stares up at Peeta, whose jaw is wide open in utter disbelief.
After being asked about his job responsibilities as a salesman at Panem, Peeta Mellark's eyes glaze over as he stares off, beyond the camera. He seems to have been thrown off entirely by what the doc crew thought was a seemingly simple question.
"My job consists of speaking to clients over the phone about packages of electric plans, and types of coal…whether we can supply it or they can, uh, pay for it…and, um…" He smiles, a lop-sided, charming grin. "Gosh, I'm boring myself just talking about it."
Back in Haymitch's office, where Peeta is still getting the low-down on why that sale just happened, another man stands at the door. He has a bag slung over the shoulder of his pressed suit. His expression makes it apparent that this is his first time in the office.
"Well, well, well, what have we got here? A straggler? A burglar? God, you're massive," Haymitch announces, calling attention to the tall, burly man scowling at his door.
The man tries to get a word in edgewise, but Haymitch isn't done with making comments.
"You look like you could kill me in my sleep, but I'd let it happen, because you're an attractive guy. Really attractive…not that I…but are you a model? Maybe you're a bounty hunter. They're always pretty attractive in a rugged, you-never-see-it-coming kind of way. Right, Peeta."
"I'm not answering that," the blonde replies.
At this point, Haymitch is knee-deep in a borderline offensive imitation of the Crocodile Hunter. Peeta exchanges a helpless glance with the newcomer. Off-the-mark, teasing impressions like these, it seems, are not out of the ordinary for the regional manager of District Twelve's branch.
Once Haymitch is out of possible occupations, the man at the door clears his throat and begins to speak.
"Oh, I'm Gale Hawthorne. From the temp agency? You were supposed to get a call saying that today was my first day of work…?"
Haymitch appears to be blind-sighted by this information.
"Well, shoot! No one called me! I think I would remember if a temp agency called and told me that the office was getting a new lumberjack. I mean, look how tall you are! Peeta, look at how tall this guy is! Lumberjack Boy over here, that's what we'll call you. Either that or the temp...there's no way you're actually a temp."
Peeta, who is about a head shorter than the temp, sighs.
Meanwhile, Gale begins to look flustered. Or just downright pissed off. His nostrils flare and color rises in his cheeks.
"Someone was supposed to call…"
"And yet they didn't! Katniss, Katniss, get in here!" Haymitch shouts through the open doorway.
A young woman, dressed conservatively in a pair of simple brown corduroys and a black sweater, comes rushing into the room, her long braid following close behind and almost whacking Peeta in the face.
"Yes?"
"Did I get any phone calls from a temporary employee agency, Sweetheart?"
Katniss nods swiftly, her calculative grey eyes training themselves on the cameras as she responds that the agency called yesterday and that she put the call through to him. She then further explains by saying that he tried doing his Daddy Warbucks impression from Annie to the woman who called him when Haymitch's blank expression does not register.
Katniss sighs. She very clearly did not want to resort to whatever she is about to say, not with Gale standing right beside her.
"You told them that Gale is a girls' name, remember?"
Suddenly, Haymitch remembers Gale Hawthorne.
Haymitch decides to kill two birds with one stone by introducing both Gale and the documentary crew to everyone else in the office.
"You've already met Katniss, our receptionist," Haymitch begins. "A girl of few words, but she knows how to get the job done right."
While Katniss smiles faintly at the compliment and blushes, Haymitch leans in toward Gale and eyes the camera.
"Also, easily the hottest in the office. Hands down. You think she's cute now, you should have seen her when she first came to us. So bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she begged me for a job. My family will go hungry, please! Girl was so skinny, I could see the ribs under that rack of hers."
"Excuse me?" Katniss exclaims, turning an even deeper shade of crimson. Haymitch tells her to take the compliment. He adds that the girl behind the desk can also be very hot-headed, in addition to being simply 'hot'.
Haymitch then tells the camera crew and Gale to keep their paws off, because Katniss is engaged to one of the warehouse workers, Darius Lavins, 'Super Ginger'. This earns an embarrassed eye roll from Katniss and a barely-concealed smirk from Peeta.
When asked about her engagement, Katniss blushes and says:
"Darius and I have known each other since high school. I grew up on the poorer side of town, and he drove me home from a New Year's party my senior year. Then he kept bothering me on my walks home until I finally kissed him…"
When asked how long she's been engaged, Katniss appears to be a bit more stand-offish, shrinking into her seat and averting her eyes.
"Three years," she says, a hint of sadness in her soft-spoken voice. "We were supposed to get married in November, but I think Darius wants a springtime wedding now. So, we'll see. I like springtime. It's...nice."
"Well, you've met Peeta, and…WOAH, watch out for this brute! A ruthless selling machine, this guy!" Haymitch growls playfully, sneaking up and grabbing the broad shoulders of Peeta's desk-clump mate, a hulking blonde with a cocky grin. Using a handkerchief, the man is cleaning off a steak knife at his desk.
"This is Cato Hadley," Haymitch says. "Cato, meet the new temp, Gale Hawthorne."
Gale holds out his hand to Cato to be shaken, and Cato merely glowers at the gesture. Cato stares at Gale's hand as if he has never been introduced to someone before. From behind him, Haymitch knees the back of Cato's chair.
"Be polite, you jackass."
Cato finally takes Gale's hand. He had been testing the waters before. Haymitch trusting Gale earns Cato's trust as well.
"Mhm, strong handshake. I guess you could measure up here someday."
"Don't assess his worth. Just tell him your damn name, dummy."
"I'm Cato Hadley, Assistant Regional Manager…"
"Assistant to the Regional Manager," Haymitch corrects. Cato grumbles angrily in response. "Say, Cato, tell Gale here about your masonry, or the car…"
The brute's eyes light up. "Oh, yeah…bought a Mitsubishi Chariot for about twelve hundred. Fixed it up, did all the repairs myself back at my garage at home. Worth three thousand now. I have pictures, if you want to see…"
Cato rolls his chair back and pulls open his desk drawer to retrieve the pictures, but he spies something that causes him to stop short.
"Dammit! Peeta!" Cato snarls. He pounds on his desk and makes a movement like he is about to deck the other man. Haymitch steps forward so that he is standing in line of Cato's heated stare.
"Hey, hey, court's in session. Judge Haymitch presides. What's the problem?"
"He baked my stapler into bread again," Cato complains, slamming a large loaf of freshly-baked sour dough bread onto his desktop. The end of a stapler pokes out of one of the air holes in the middle of the bread.
Katniss breaks out into laughter from her seat at reception. Seated calmly at his desk, Peeta shrugs, but the smirk he wears is very telling.
"Yeah, I dabble in the art of baking," Peeta admits to the cameras in a private interview. "I also dabble in the art of pranking Cato Hadley."
Cato is seething. "This is the third time, and it wasn't funny the first two times, either. You're making me look weak!"
"He's making you look like you have a sense of humor, Cato, which can't hurt in your case. Likability is helpful, and you have about as much charm as a dead slug," Haymitch drones. "Katniss would know what that's like, right, girl? God bless Super Ginger for having to put up with you. You're lucky you're hot."
Katniss shoots the cameras an annoyed look.
Cato then digs his hand into the bread, getting crumbs just about everywhere. Haymitch juts a hand out and smacks Cato away.
"No, wait, Cato! Do not take it out. You have to eat it out…there are starving people in the world, which is horrible, so you can't let this bread go to waste." Haymitch treats this remark as a joke, which makes many of the people around him visibly annoyed and uncomfortable.
Cato rolls his eyes when he notes that Haymitch is holding back laughter and pulls Gale down by the collar of his shirt to be at his level.
"You'll be my witness, Lumberjack Boy. Haymitch, reprimand him!"
The cameras cut to Peeta, who is buttering a slice of bread.
"How do you even know it was me?" he asks through a mouthful of sour dough, feigning innocence and ignorance.
"Oh, for goodness sake! Discipline him!" Cato whines.
"Discipline…ooh, that's kinky," Haymitch says with a chuckle tossed toward the cameras. When Cato's stony expression remains unchanged and his steak knife has returned to his clenched fist, the manager clears his throat and begins to speak in a much more serious tone.
"Look, practical jokes are like a train. Sometimes, the ride can go on for a while…but Peeta, it's time to hop off the train and stop baking Cato's personal belongings into your delicious bread. That still sounds like a euphemism. Damn, I really tried to not make it sound like a euphemism..."
"Wasn't really a euphemism till you made it one," Lumberjack Boy mumbles under his breath.
Peeta, wiping crumbs from his mouth, sighs as if he has conceded. "Alright. Cato, I'm sorry…it's just that I've always been jealous of you. From your car, to your big grain—I mean, brain."
Haymitch cackles, slaps Cato on the back, and tells Gale, "Isn't this great? This is how we do things around here!"
Gale smirks and points at Peeta.
"You should at yeast arrest him for his crimes," Gale jokes, earning another belly laugh from the boss and a resounding 'NEW GUY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN'.
Cato simmers and takes a menacing bite out of the loaf of bread that his stapler has been baked into.
The rest of the introductions go a bit more smoothly.
Gale is introduced to salesmen Cinna Styles and Wiress Hicks.
"Like the Mama and Papa Bear of the sales team, these two. Mainly because they're much older than the rest of us," Haymitch explains.
Looking up from her computer, Wiress states, "Haymitch, I graduated from high school a year after you…"
Haymitch quickly ushers Gale away.
Next, they meet accountants Clove Sevina, Beetee Latier, and Caesar Flickerman. Both Clove and Beetee are too busy to humor Haymitch's jokes about Clove's mousy size or Beetee's glasses, but Caesar seems to have all the time in the world, asking Gale a range of extremely personal questions until Haymitch literally has to shove the man back into his seat.
After the accountants is Quality Assurance Director Greasy Sae. She compliments Gale's bag before saying that she could trade it in for some delicacy squirrel meat at the market that she frequents.
"Squirrel meat?" Gale chokes back what the crew can only assume is bile.
Sae grins, showing off her teeth (or lack there of).
"It doesn't have to be squirrel, Handsome. They've got all types of meats there. You ever try human flesh?"
Gale leads Haymitch away this time.
Abrasive and quick to make a sexual pun about the nickname "Lumberjack Boy", Supplier Relations Representative Johanna Mason gets a silent earful from Haymitch before he takes Gale back to the annex where he will be working. Her fellow Supplier Relations Rep, Orin Cray, chuckles and high-fives the scandalous brunette.
At the annex, Effie tries to welcome Gale and the crew again, but she gets quickly shut down by Haymitch.
"HR Rep. The office killjoy. The star of every single one of my nightmares. That's all you need to know about Effie Trinket."
A youthful, fast-talking blonde girl in a headset chatters away in the corner. Once she lays eyes on Gale, she hangs up mid-sentence on the person she is speaking to. She introduces herself as Madge Undersee, head of Customer Service.
Gale eyes her as she ogles at him. Finally, he throws her a bone and compliments her.
"Uh, nice dress."
As Madge keeps talking about celebrities Gale Hawthorne reminds her of—the most exciting one to her being Thor—Haymitch slips away.
"Haymitch? This fax just came in from Corporate. It says 'URGENT' at the top," Katniss informs her manager, who is aiming magnetic darts at a board that he has placed on the back of his door. A picture of Effie Trinket's face has been taped over the bullseye. One of the darts smacks Katniss in the cheek before plopping to the ground.
"Corporate, huh? Let me see," Haymitch drawls. As soon as Katniss transfers the paper over to him, Haymitch crumples it up and tosses it into the trashcan beside his desk. Both boss and receptionist look pleasantly surprised when the paper actually makes it into the can.
"That's the special filing cabinet from things from Corporate. You know that, Kitty Kat," he announces. Katniss shoots the cameras a worried glance before returning to her desk at reception.
"I'm not here to be the dictator, you know?" Haymitch candidly explains in a private interview. "I've been here for almost twenty-five years, and I've been on the other side of things before becoming manager six years ago. This place shouldn't feel like it's ruled by some totalitarian government. I try to make my office fun. This company has the entire floor, so as manager, I guess you could call this floor my playing ground. Instead of tasks, or jobs, I like to think of what we do here as a fun game. It's just easier to get through the day that way. Do we play hard when we should be working hard? Sometimes. But I'd rather my employees think of me as a coach than as a boss."
He leans across the desk, angling a mug that reads 'Best Mentor' toward the camera.
"Got this as a gift for myself," he states proudly "You can literally print anything on a mug on that Etsy website. Did you know that?"
He then proceeds to pour himself some clear liquid from an unmarked bottle into a shot glass, empties it into the mug under his desk, and downs the entire contents in one gulp.
"Part of being the Best Mentor out there requires me to be loose. Can't do that if I'm sober, can I? Nothing wrong with a little buzz to get the job done. It's how bees do it, don't they? I'm just a queen bee, tryin' to get buzzed with my worker bees. That isn't coming out right..."
After lunch break, a woman dressed almost entirely head to toe in gray strides into the office. Upon noticing her, everyone makes an effort to look extra busy at their desks.
"Alma Coin, Vice President of Eastern Sales. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" Haymitch declares as the cameras follow her into his office.
The woman straightens her suit jacket out and offers a sympathy chuckle to what she thinks is a joke. She asks Haymitch if he has anything he would like to add to the agenda.
"Agenda?" Haymitch stammers.
A pointed gray eyebrow rises. "The agenda I sent you this morning. From Corporate. It had 'URGENT' written on it in big, bold, red letters. Any of that ring a bell?"
"Eh?" Haymitch says with a shrug.
Alma Coin taps the toe of her pointed heel impatiently on the floor. "So, you really didn't get my fax?"
Haymitch makes a half-hearted effort of looking through the scraps on his desk before asking Katniss if he got a fax from corporate this morning.
The receptionist, who has reluctantly joined the conversation, swallows hard and nods.
"Uh, yeah. You put it in the trash—I mean, the 'Special Filing Cabinet' where things from Corporate go, remember?"
The Vice President tries to hide her visible irritation as she watches Haymitch fish the crumpled piece of paper from the waste basket.
"Well, would you look at that? 'URGENT'. Big, bold, and red…just like you said. Must not have been bold enough, because I missed it completely…"
"Look, Haymitch. I don't have time to beat around the bush with you, so I'm just going to come out and let you know that the board has determined that we can't justify having branches in both Twelve and Four. I've already talked to Seneca in Four…and there may be some downsizing that's going to have to happen in the near future."
"What? Downsizing?"
"Yes. The economy is doing poorly, and our company can't support twelve fully-staffed branches. Nobody wants to buy coal-powered electric plans anymore. How this company has even survived for seventy-four years is beyond me…"
"Alma, you're telling me that my staff has to suffer because the economy is suffering?"
"Downsizing is just easier than shutting down an entire branch. We were planning on making this a covert operation, so don't look so offended, Haymitch. You're lucky we are even giving you a say in the matter," the woman responds with a heavy sigh. She speaks to Haymitch as if he were a petulant child.
"I am, though. I am offended. Downsizing is brutal! You can't just come into my arena and make my team a bunch of benchwarmers!"
"I'm going to pretend that your analogy made any semblance of sense…"
Before Coin can continue, Haymitch's phone starts ringing.
"This better be Corporate calling to apologize now, or Ashton Kutcher from Punk'd…downsizing, my ass," Haymitch grumbles. Staring right at Coin, he puts his phone on speaker.
"Haymitch Abernathy."
"Waaaaassssuuuup, HayBITCH?!"
"Chaff-ed Underwear, sexiest travelling salesman in the business! Waaaassup?"
"Glad to hear you're still alive," the obnoxious, grating voice on the phone trills throughout Haymitch's office. Katniss plugs up one ear with her free hand while jamming her pen into the other. "Corporate's going around and making cuts. It's only a matter of time before that Silver Snake Coin shows up and rips you a new a-hole! Say, I wonder if the gray carpet matches the gray drapes! Maybe you can find out for me…"
As Chaff cackles, Haymitch hangs up the phone. It becomes a contest of who in the room feels most embarrassed by what has just transpired. Haymitch coughs. Katniss bounces on the heels of her feet. Coin pinches the bridge of her nose, shuts her eyes, and takes a calming breath.
"Just keep this on the down low, alright? I don't want to worry people unnecessarily if we end up figuring things out."
"Yes, Ma'am."
As soon as Alma's gray Sudan pulls out of the parking lot, Haymitch sends Katniss on an alcohol run and shouts from his open door that he will fight for her safety in the downsizing, effectively telling the entire office what was supposed to be a secret.
Word spreads like wildfire throughout the office about the downsizing rumors after their boss' little outburst.
"Who do you think is going to go?" Wiress asks the huddle that has formed at the water cooler. The Styrofoam cup that she fills overflows, but Wiress does not notice. She is too distracted. Her large, wide eyes skitter all over nervously. "Oh, it's only a matter of time before the cuts start. I just want to know."
Pushing his glasses back up the rim of his nose, Beetee offers an explanation, stating that, "This is how I see it: They could go either one of two ways. One, those who have poorest performance records for the culmination of their work in each branch will be reviewed and ultimately terminated without severance. Or two, they will let either the youngest or oldest in each branch go, maybe even both, thus eliminating the people with the least potential left in the company. I've already drafted several Excel spreadsheets with the possible permutations of who could stay and who is potentially on the chopping block."
Cinna, leaning against the water cooler, puts on his sunglasses and dozes off in the middle of Beetee's in-depth response. He is clearly too cool to be concerned with any of this.
From his desk at accounting, Caesar looks once, twice over his shoulder. Most likely for any other onlookers. He doesn't see the cameras.
Leaning in closely to the glass divider that separates their desks, he whispers, "Clover, darling."
"Caesar, I am your co-worker. Not your darling. And it's Clove, not Clover." The dark-haired, small woman does not even bother looking up from her work.
"My apologies," the man answers, tanned skin wrinkling into a deep frown. It is apparent that he does not frown often. "I'm just worried about the downsizing. Tell me, aren't you at all worried that your job is at stake?"
He grits his teeth and makes a very showy look of nervousness to portray to the cameras, which he has now noticed have been filming him.
"I'm so nervous!" he screeches. "What if it's me?"
Clove winces as the new octave of Caesar's voice takes her by surprise, and a pen mark slashes through all of her hard work.
"No, I'm not worried about downsizing," Clove tells the cameras confidently. "My work here has been above average, and I have my numbers from last quarter alone to show for it. I'm small, but my skills are mighty."
Through the blinds of the window in the conference room where the private interviews are held, Clove cranes her petite neck to watch Caesar apply a teeth whitening strip to his upper lip, read the instructions on the box of strips, and reapply the strip to his teeth.
"Besides," she adds with a tight-lipped smile, "the office can afford to lose a few of the…variety show acts…we have around here."
"If they let me go, it wouldn't be the worst thing," Katniss admits with a shrug when she is asked to comment on the possibility of downsizing in the office. "Then maybe I could…I don't know. It's not many little girls' dream to grow up and become a receptionist. When I took this job, I just really needed the money. My dad had been killed in a car accident, my mom was having a hard time coping, and someone needed to put food on the table for my sister. This was never what I wanted to do. This is just a job."
When she is asked what she really wants to do, she quickly responds, "I want to be a musician. Compose scores and, I dunno, maybe jingles…stuff like that. I've made up a few little pieces here and there. Peeta thinks they're good."
"Are you nervous about the downsizing?" Katniss asks, a smile toying on her lips as she leans in toward where Peeta stands at the other side of her reception desk.
The blonde grins. He pops a peanut M&M, the candy of the month that Katniss has chosen for her visitors and placed in a jar on the ledge of her desk, into his mouth.
"What I'm more concerned about," he says as he chews, reaching into his pocket, "is how I'm going to RSVP to this tantalizing invitation to Clove's lizard party."
He pulls out a folded card and dangles it in front of Katniss. Katniss' hands fly to her mouth to keep from laughing. She ends up snorting instead.
"I got that too! Who throws a birthday party for a lizard? Buttercup's lucky if I remember to feed him, that fat yellow furball," she whispers through her gigantic smile, careful not to attract the attention of Clove, who stands by the copier and is already eyeing her warily.
Peeta shrugs playfully. "Well, are you gonna go?"
"Ooh, you see, as enticing as it sounds…I have an important date with my sock drawer Sunday night. It needs to be rearranged. Are you?"
Peeta guffaws. "Hell no. Not if you're not going. Gosh, I sure hope the iguana can forgive me."
"Peeta, read the invitation. Izzy is a gecko. That's why the Geico Gecko is saying, 'You're invited!' here on the card...wow, you're such a bad guest."
"I'm not a guest because I refuse to step into the Reptile House at the Clove Sevina Zoo."
The two erupt into a fit of giggles, and they're only silenced when Clove slams the lid of the copier and storms back to her desk.
Peeta's annoyance is thinly veiled when his entire desk is pushed back into his chest while he finishes up with a phone call, effectively sending the air whooshing out of him before he can get his client's confirmation.
"Cato, what are you doing?" Peeta asks as he cups his hand over the phone receiver.
"Making more room at my desk to stretch my legs," Cato replies, not looking up from his work.
"You realize that you're messing with my desk, right?"
"Can't help that your desk is in the way of my hard earned space, Nimrod."
Peeta returns to his sale. He hangs up the phone with surprising force. When it does not catch Cato's attention, Peeta stares intensely at his computer screen, grinding his teeth in frustration. Cato snorts in satisfaction and reclines in his seat. A few moments later, Peeta reaches out and tips a mug filled with pencils over the edge of the desk and into the space that Cato's rearranging created.
Cato scoffs as Peeta crawls under his desk to clean up the mess he made.
"Idiot," Cato sneers.
The cameras pan down to where Peeta crouches and Cato's legs have been outstretched. Working quickly and quietly, Peeta can be seen tying Cato's shoelaces together.
Naturally, this presents a problem for Cato just ten minutes later, when he decides to go to the bathroom and ends up falling flat on his face instead.
The entire office is in stitches.
"Dammit, Peeta!" Cato growls as he flounders to get back onto his feet. Due to his six foot, two inch height, it also becomes problematic when the man tries to reach down and untangle his laces. "This stunt has safety violation written all over it. You could have sliced my leg open with all of the stray pencils that are still lying around. I could have gotten blood poisoning from your lead!"
Peeta stands over his co-worker and shrugs. "And here I was, worried that I was going to lose you to downsizing. No, blood poisoning is far more plausible."
Cato writhes some more while Peeta rearranges the desks.
"I'm not afraid of downsizing," Cato insists when asked the downsizing question, face still sporting fresh rug burn. "It is not in Hadley blood to be afraid of anything. It is in our blood, however, to be the best at what we do. I'm the best salesman in District Twelve. They won't fire me. Besides, I've been suggesting that we downsize since I got hired. Frankly, I'm annoyed that they're just getting around to it now."
"What would I do if I were let go?" Peeta reiterates the question, pausing to give the response serious thought for a moment before he continues. "Well, I guess the real question is: what would I do with all of this pointless information I've acquired over the years? How long it takes a lump of coal to burn? How many days it takes Cato to realize I've been slowly moving everything on his desk one centimeter every morning? Katniss' favorite color? Green, by the way. I don't know, really. Hopefully I'd be able to figure something out."
"He said green?" It's all Katniss seems to get out of the question and the sharing of that part of Peeta's response. "Ha, yeah, he's onto me. His is orange, if you're curious. Not orange like the color of Effie's new hair…it's more muted. Like the sunset."
She smiles, as if the color has surrounded her.
"Watch any reality TV, Mister Hawkeye?"
"Hawthorne."
"Whatever, Lumberjack Boy. You watch any?"
"I occasionally keep up with the Real Housewives, sure," Gale offers, adjusting himself in one of the chairs that are in Haymitch's office. When he receives a plethora of judgmental looks from Haymitch and the crew, he adds, "They're hot, okay?
"Are you into, like, the pranking ones? Like The Voice? That sort of thing?"
"The Voice isn't a pranking show…"
"Just, shut up. Just watch and be entertained. You're my accomplice on this. Don't steal my thunder either, Pretty Boy. Come in, Sweetheart!"
Katniss comes through the door, uncapped ballpoint pen gripped in her teeth. It is clear that she is very busy.
"You got a fax," she says quickly, ignoring Haymitch's leading commentary about 'rumors at Corporate' entirely.
"Thank you. Oh, and Katniss? Katniss, could you come here for a second? As you know, there's been talk of downsizing…and you have made my life so much easier…in that I am going to let you help me figure out how we should let you go."
Katniss' face falls.
"What? Me? Why?"
"Well—treason."
"Treason?"
"Yeah, you see, Corporate is furious that you show them up with that attitude of yours. It's the way you answer the phone, or write your e-mails...there's this tone that you've got, Sweetheart, and they don't like it up in the big leagues. The one thing they hate is being laughed at, and they're the joke of Panem. So we've gotta, you know," he makes a snipping motion with his fingers, "nip it in the butt."
"Are you serious?" the girl asks, her concerned eyes narrowing slightly.
Haymitch nods, pretending to look forlorn. Gale just sits like a statue, petrified in fear of what's to come.
Katniss appears to be on the verge of tears, blinking ferociously and shaking her head.
"I—I can't believe this. I mean…I've always acted pleasantly at work."
Haymitch scratches his scraggly beard and winks quickly at Gale before moving on. The younger man just buries his face in his large hands.
"Well, you must not be that good of an actress. And the best part is that we won't have to pay you any severance, because that's gross misconduct. So, I'm sorry. I know I made promises to about saving you in the downsizing, but there's nothing we can do."
He is met only with silence. When the cameras slowly pan to Haymitch's left, Katniss can be seen weeping softly, trying miserably to hide her pain with hands by covering her face. Haymitch's smug grin slowly falls flat.
"I'm sorry," he offers lamely. Gale shoots him a look of disbelief that he's still choosing to let the joke go on rather than coming clean.
Suddenly, the receptionist is on her feet and leaping at her boss.
"You son of a bitch! You promised you'd keep us all safe! You promised! You're a liar!" she shrieks, lunging forward with her pen and narrowly missing Haymitch's face, as he dodges the blows in the nick of time.
The older man grasps her wrist. When she tries to resist him, Haymitch counteracts by flicking the pen out of her hands.
"So it's you and a pen against Corporate, huh? This is why I'm the manager and you're not calling the shots around here, Sweetheart," Haymitch comments acerbically. Katniss, upon realizing how she has just behaved, turns beet red.
Haymitch rolls his eyes. He roughly jerks Katniss' wrist out of his grasp and starts humming Alicia Key's 'Girl on Fire'.
"Relax, I'm not going to report you for almost drawing on my face. And you're not fired, by the way."
"W-what?"
"You're not getting fired. Surprise! It's a joke!" Haymitch proclaims, trying to bring light back to the situation. He jabs a thumb toward Gale and claims that he was in on the joke as well. Gale tries to refute this, but he's met with a glare from his new boss.
"You see, Sweetheart, this was a morale booster. We're still alive! We're still in the game!"
As Haymitch goes on, Katniss seems to be caught between shock and confusion. Anger burning in her gray eyes, she cuts Haymitch off abruptly.
"You're a jerk," she spits, wiping a stray tear from her eyes before storming out of the room.
Acting unfazed, a very uncomfortable Haymitch goes back to humming his tune while a horrified Gale Hawthorne mouths 'What the hell?' to the cameras.
"That, my friends," Haymitch says after some time has passed, "is how a joke dies."
"Jerk? Well, would a jerk go against Corporate's wishes and give his employees the heads up about the downsizing?"
Haymitch smirks, smitten with himself for the idea. He is about a third of the way through his second bottle of unmarked liquor, and the scent on his breath reeks of alcohol.
"I think not."
Haymitch is burping into his sleeve and hanging onto Cato's shoulder as the members of the office all shuffle into the conference room. He is very, very, very intoxicated.
Katniss chooses an empty seat beside Peeta, notebook at hand to take down 'notes' for Haymitch (the cameras reveal that previous pages of these 'notes' are just doodles and scribbles). As soon as he is seated, Cinna takes out a fashion magazine and makes minimal effort to hide his disinterest in being in the room.
Cato remains standing, stoic and stolid in his duties as Assistant to the Regional Manager, which in this moment translates to personal leaning post. Carefully, Cato leads Haymitch onto a makeshift stage, assembled out of crates of coal from the warehouse.
"Alright, alright, alright," Haymitch starts, drawling out the words in a thick, Southern accent. "Matthew McCounaghey, anyone?"
The room is eerily silent. Everyone knows what the meeting is about. Haymitch tries to clear his throat, but another burp comes out instead.
"So, this news may come as a shock to you all, and they want me to keep it on the down low at Corporate, but I don't care 'bout what Corporate wants, 'cause 's you all who matter…"
"Just tell us what's going on with the downsizing, you old drunk!" Johanna Mason cries out, much to HR representative Effie's chagrin.
Haymitch blinks. "Oh, so y'all know already?"
The room erupts in chaos at the confirmation of all the day's rumors spewing from their manager's drunken mouth.
"So, it's true then?" Wiress asks, voice wavering.
"Unfortunately, I'm 'fraid so," Haymitch slurs sympathetically.
"What are we going to do?" Beetee asks, exasperated.
Haymitch takes another swig from his flask and shrugs.
"There's not much we can do, other than face the imminent probability of your job's termination. And know that there's absolutely nothing I can do to help you."
Madge starts going on about how all of her sorority sisters are going to make fun of her on Facebook for being 'their unemployed friend'. Caesar Flickerman laughs until he's crying. Effie tries to calm people down, her painted-on smile faltering. Clove opens the window and hangs halfway out of it for some air. Wiress starts reciting some sort of rhyme, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Peeta sends another helpless look the camera's way.
Someone lobs a lump of coal at Haymitch's head, and it narrowly misses him. This causes Cato to spring into action and find the perpetrator, leaving Haymitch alone on the stage.
Standing before the mayhem, Haymitch stares blankly at his distressed workers and begins to sway. Something flies toward his head again, slamming against the wall. This seems to break him from his haze. Haymitch blinks rapidly and rubs his wide eyes.
The office is in shambles, as if a riot has stormed through the conference room.
"Oh, no. This is bad," Haymitch mutters under his breath. Turning his attention back to the members of the office, he starts shouting and waving his arms in an attempt to get everyone to calm down. It is to no avail.
Panic and anger creep into his features when he notices how his workers start taking their frustrations out on each other. Cato has Johanna in a headlock. Sae has Caesar cornered, salad fork dangerously close to his eyes. Cinna reads his magazine and makes no effort to help anyone.
A scream punctures through Haymitch's drunken thoughts once more, and he decides to take action.
He forgets, however, that he is standing on a pile of boxes.
Everyone shuts up when their boss somersaults off of the stage and falls to the floor in a heap of limbs.
Sporting a fairly large lump on his throbbing head, Haymitch dials the number of company President while Cato holds a brown, frozen banana to Haymitch's wound. Everyone in the office crams into the doorway of Haymitch's office, and those who cannot fit peer through the window. He has ceded, per request of the Panem employees, to agree to call the CEO of the company in order to settle this once and for all.
"Mister Abernathy," a powerful voice, low and rumbling, picks up. Everyone collectively holds their breath.
"Coriolanus! Haymitch here!"
"Yes, Mister Abernathy. The caller ID told me that you were calling. Therefore, the second introduction is not necessary…"
"Oh, alright. Well, it's come to my attention that there's been talk of downsizing, and a few of my employees have caught wind of some rumors…"
There is a loud sigh on the other end of the phone. The speaker crackles and President Coriolanus Snow can be heard clearing his throat.
"Haymitch, exactly how many of your employees have caught wind of this private information?"
"Oh, you know…just a few."
"We've agreed not to lie to each other, Haymitch."
"I may or may have told them all in a meeting that felt pertinent at the time," Haymitch finally admits. Several of the employees let go of the breath that they had been holding.
"They're all with you right now, aren't they?"
"Pssh, no…"
"Do not lie!" the ominous voice snaps. Haymitch jumps and swallows hard.
"Yes, we're all here, President Snow."
"Very well. Since you've told me the truth, I owe you the same. Yes, the company is experiencing economic difficulty. Yes, there needs to be downsizing. But it is very minor. It was supposed to be each managers' job to quietly let one person go by the end of the month. That was the extent of the downsizing."
"So, we're keeping our jobs?"
"More or less, yes."
The remainder of the conversation is drowned out by the sounds of whoops and cheers throughout the District Twelve office. The clock strikes five, closing time, and the cheers grow even louder.
Laughing gaily as he surveys the scene, Haymitch accidentally hangs up on his boss.
Everyone, it seems, is just happy to hold onto their jobs for one more day.
"Ha, no. I don't have a girlfriend, to answer your question," Peeta says modestly, a touch of boyish shyness dashing across his face in the form of a bright pink blush. His blue eyes soften.
"There is this one girl that I've had a crush on forever, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't think of me in that way."
When asked why a handsome young man like him doesn't go after the girl and win her over by one of the crew members, Peeta smiles sadly and shrugs. Once again, he offers the same helpless look he's been giving the camera all day.
"Because," he says, "she works five feet away from me."
"What a day," Peeta sighs as he slips an arm through his jacket sleeve. From her seat at reception, Katniss exhales heavily and laughs.
"Yeah, definitely."
"Well, a bunch of us are going out to the Hob tonight for an end-of-the-week slash yay-we're not-fired-yet drink. You should join us, Everdeen. The party could use some of your spark."
She eagerly leans in, but before she can answer to Peeta's request, a gangly red-headed man in a white warehouse uniform marches into the room. The uniform and the man's pale face are both smeared with dark splotches of coal dust. He glides past Peeta and firmly plants a kiss on Katniss' lips. Peeta pulls back from where he leans by the candy jar and averts his eyes at the public display of affection.
"Let's get out of here," the man, presumably Darius, tells Katniss.
Fiddling with the end of her braid, Katniss glances toward Peeta before asking Darius if she can go out with people from work for a drink.
Eyeing Peeta, Darius shakes his head. The toothpick that he has jammed into his teeth and begun to chew on hangs loosely from his bottom lip.
"Nah, Babe. We should go home. Let's go home."
Katniss bows her head slightly, hiding her disappointment.
"O-okay. Let me just finish up with some faxes…"
"Hey, you should come too, Darius! You like the Hob, right?" Peeta quips. His emits a nervous laugh that seems unlike any of the cool collected nature that he had been displaying all day. "Call up some of the guys from the warehouse. It's been so long since we've hung out with an upstairs and downstairs crowd."
The red-head chortles and shakes his head.
"Yeah, no. It sounds great, Mellark. But we've seriously gotta get going."
Katniss tells Peeta to have a good weekend before her fiancé ushers her through the door.
The crew asks Katniss to tell a story about a time when a co-worker did something for her.
"There was this one time, a few years ago, actually, when my family and I were really struggling. My sister, Prim, had gotten into the nursing school at the University of Pittsburgh, and I just really wanted to take her out to this fancy restaurant. It was the place where my dad proposed to my mom, and where we had my graduation dinner…Anyway, it was too expensive, and I was freaking out for weeks about earning the extra cash. It was the night of Prim's high school graduation, and I found an envelope addressed to the 'Everdeen girls' on my desk."
Cressida, enraptured by the story, is the one to ask what was in the envelope.
"It was from Peeta. It was a huge chunk of his paycheck for that week; there was even enough to get dessert. I didn't want to take it—I mean, how could I accept something like that? But he insisted—via note, of course, because he knew that if he stuck around to watch me get the gift I would have chased him down and forced him to take it back. It was worth it. Prim looked so happy the whole night. He really went above and beyond for us. He even went so far as to call the restaurant and get us personalized menus at our family's favorite table. There was a vase of primroses at the center of the table, too."
She pauses, as if she is recreating the scene in her head. Katniss reaches out and grabs something that isn't really there, holding the imaginary item to her chest.
"And the funniest thing…a dandelion. Just sticking out from the bunch of flowers, like the florist had missed it or something. It was bright yellow, and it stuck out like a sore thumb, but I didn't mind it. This may sound corny, but this dandelion, this little weed, gave me hope. I'll never forget that day…I started working full time here after that night."
"You know, our company's motto is: 'Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever'. My proudest moments here don't come from percentage increases or expenses cuts. No, a company is truly defined by the people," Haymitch tells the cameras as he packs his bags for the day.
"The Cato Hadleys, the Katniss Everdeens, and even the Caesar Flickermans are what keep this place going. That's what this is really about. The motto should be: People today, people tomorrow, people forever."
Before heading out for the evening, the cameras watch as Peeta, the last person remaining, creeps into Haymitch's office. Moving quickly, he grabs the manager's 'Best Mentor' mug and starts to put it in his bag.
Peeta sees that the cameras are watching and freezes.
"I'm going to bake this into a giant muffin for Monday," he explains before stuffing the mug into his briefcase and locking up the office.
Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)
-ILoVeWicked