Is one of the longer things I've done, and not sure if it would be better off split up into runners or could work as a scene in a sitcom.
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INT. OFFICE – DAY
MARK, THE NEW FRESH-FACED PROSPECTIVE EMPLOYEE, IS BEING LED ROUND THE OFFICE BY POMPOUS NED.
MARK:
Wow, you've got a pretty nice office here, Mr Bennett…But I don't think I've seen any printers.
NED:
Printers?! PRINTERS?! We're in the future, Mark. The FUTURE. And the future's "PAPERLESS". Come, Mark, see the future for yourself.
THEY WALK ROUND THE WORKSTATIONS, WHERE PEOPLE ARE BUSY TYPING AWAY
NED:
See, Mark, everything's done by email now. Sure, we get (LOOKS DISGUSTED) POST but we scan it at the door and send it back. Won't find any nasty paper in here.
MARK:
But I'm sure I saw some shredders, Mr Bennett…
NED:
Aha! You want to see how we dispose of sensitive data. Come…
NED LEADS MARK TO A DESK WHERE A WOMAN IS SITTING, FEEDING USB MEMORY STICKS AND CDs INTO A SHREDDER MACHINE, WHERE SLICED PLASTIC EMERGES INTO THE BUCKET BELOW
MARK:
Can't you just delete what's on the disk?
NED:
(LAUGHS) Oh ho ho, Mark, we're not in the Dark Ages.
(LEANS CLOSE INTO MARK, CONSPIRATORIALLY)
Do you want the Chinese and Nigerians to get all your data? Hmm?
MARK:
No, but…
NED:
Do you want to come home to find Mr Chung and Mr Owusu have stolen your life (SMILES MENACINGLY) And your WIFE?
MARK:
No, but I'm not even…
NED HOLDS UP A HAND TO SILENCE MARK:
I suppose you've done a study into Identity Theft then?
MARK:
No, Mr Bennett.
NED:
Well, I have, Mark. I have. (KICKS THE BACK OF THE WOMAN'S CHAIR)
Oi! Betty! You missed a "bit".
(PERKS UP – TO MARK)
Ahaha. Just a little IT joke, Mark. Ahaha….Shall we move on?
CUT TO:
THEY ARRIVE AT A HEAVY DOOR, WHICH NED OPENS. INSIDE ARE SINISTER ROWS OF HUGE WHIRRING TOWERS
NED:
This, my friend, is the core. State-of-the art servers that deal with the huge amount of electronic data we produce.
MARK:
Err…They look a bit power-hungry
NED PUTS HIS ARM ROUND MARK AND LEANS HIS FACE IN CLOSE
NED:
You wouldn't be suggesting that saving paper's a bad thing now, would you Mark?
MARK (SWALLOWING)
Erm…No, Mr Bennett
NED:
You do want to save the Rainforest – and those ickle cute fluffy monkeys (BEAT) Don't you, Mark?
MARK:
Yes, Mr Bennett.
NED (GRABBING HOLD OF MARK'S COLLAR AND PULLING HIM IN CLOSER):
Good. So you won't be concerned about the massive amounts of energy these behemoths may or may not be using then, will you, Mark?
(GENTLY SHAKES MARK'S COLLAR SO HIS HEAD MOVES FROM SIDE-TO-SIDE)
MARK (MONOTONOUSLY, MUMBLING):
No, Mr Bennett. (BEAT) Mr Bennett?
NED (SWEETLY):
Yes, Mark?
MARK:
Please can I use your toilet?
NED LOOKS DOWN AT MARK AND LETS GO.
Ah! Of course.
CUT TO:
MARK IS SITTING IN A TOILET CUBICLE. HE GIVES A RELIEVED SIGH AS HE, WELL, RELIEVES HIS BOWELS.
CAMERA SWITCHES TO FIRST PERSON. WE SCAN THE CUBICLE, FINALLY RESTING ON THE TOILET ROLL DISPENSER, WHICH IS EMPTY.
MARK:
Ohh, Shit!
CAMERA SWITCHES BACK. MARK REACHES UP, FRANTICALLY PUTTING HIS HAND UP INSIDE THE DISPENSER, SCRABBLING FOR ANY PAPER REMNANTS.
VOICE (OOV, SOUNDS LIKE A WIDEBOY, COMING FROM THE ADJACENT CUBICLE):
Psst! Mate!? Need some bog roll?
MARK:
Oh, thank goodness! Yes, please!
VOICE (OOV):
Shhh! Don't let the boss hear. Right, that'll be a fiver for three pieces?
MARK:
A FIVER?!! (REALISES HE WAS LOUD AND WHISPERS) A fiver? For a bit of toilet roll?
VOICE:
It's good quality, mate, four-ply. Take it or leave it…
MARK:
(HISSES). Oh, alright. (PULLS OUT WALLET AND REMOVES A FIVE POUND NOTE). Might as well just wipe it straight on this. (HE PASSES THE NOTE UNDER THE PARTITION).
VOICE:
Cheers. (HEAR A TEARING SOUND AND A HAND PASSES SOME TOILET ROLL IN, WHICH MARK GREEDILY GRABS. WE HEAR HIM WIPING HIS ARSE).
WE SEE MARK PULL HIS TROUSERS UP, FLUSH THE TOILET AND GO TO WASH HIS HANDS. AS HE DOES SO, IN THE MIRROR'S REFLECTION WE SEE THE DOOR TO THE ADJACENT CUBICLE OPEN. THE WIDEBOY, GREASY AND IN A SHARP SUIT AND MAC COMBO, IS SITTING AMONGST A PILE OF OFFICE-SUPPLY PAPER.
WIDEBOY:
Psst! Mate? Can I interest you in anything else?
MARK:
No. Thanks.
WIDEBOY:
Come on, squire. I've got some A4 here. Premium quality. The pure white stuff, mate.
MARK:
No, I'm fine. Thanks.
WIDEBOY (REACHES INTO HIS JACKET AND PULLS OUT A BAG):
Oh, alright. Just some cocaine then?
CUT TO:
MARK HURRIEDLY EXITING THE TOILET. NED's WAITING THERE.
NED:
Ah, there you are! Well, Mark, I trust you've been suitably impressed and want to join our little operation here?
MARK:
Err…
NED:
Excellent, excellent. (PULLS OUT A BIRO AND A PAPER CONTRACT)
Now, if you'll just sign here…
