Moving on up (USED, MASK STARTED)

Several hours later, as he is flicking through his copy of the Financial Times, The Management Planner notices something on his desk.
*
Planner: By the beard of Zeus - what is that?
*
As Planner leans forward to look at the ephemeral phenomenon in his 'To Do' tray, he leaps back in fright.
*
Planner: What is the Chairman trying to do to me? McGhee? McGhee?
*
Frantically pressing the intercom, and with no answer forthcoming, Planner starts to sweat profusely.
*
Planner: It's okay Planner. It's fine. You can do this. Just pick it up and look at it. It can't hurt you. Go on....yah!
*
Planner snatches it up and looks at the piece of paper.
*
Planner: Mark Jobrinksi? Who in the blue hell is Mark Jobrinski?
*
'The Boss' reads through Jobrinski's CV, before dialling Miss McGhee's number.
*
Planner: McGhee? I'm not happy. You gave me work. Do you know who I am? I'm The Management Planner! I don't do administration! I don't read CVs! I plan! I am The Management Planner!
*
McGhee's voice can be heard mumbling down the line in response.
*
Planner: I guess that is a good idea. You're so clever McGhee, I don't know what I'd do without you. You're like a female buddha, all covered in fake tan. McGhee? McGhee! Scream twice if you're in Milwaukee. McGhee?
*
Hanging up the now-dead phone, Planner looks back at Jobrinski's CV.
*
Planner: Well, Jobrinksi. I guess you're hired. Welcome to the real world...
*
As Planner smiles broadly to himself, the phone rings, and he immerses himself in matters of finance once more...

A short while later, Mark Jobrinski appears at The Management Planner's office. He seems very nervous about meeting the revered businessman.
*
Jobrinski knocks at the door, leaving a trail of sweat on the glass.
*
Planner: McGhee? McGhee?
*
Despite being off for the evening, McGhee's lack of presence has not been noticed by Planner. He can be heard through the door complaining about 'the staff'.
*
Planner: Who is it?
*
Jobrinski: It's, err, Mark, err, Jobrinski, Mr Planner Sir!
*
Shaking, Jobrinski takes a step back.
*
Planner: Ah, Jobrinski! Come in my boy! Come, come!
*
Surprised at Planner's friendliness, Jobrinski visibly relaxes, and enters the room.
*
Planner: Mark, my boy, you got my message! Thanks for coming in to see me - take a seat, take a seat. Scotch?
*
Jobrinski: I don't drink Sir...
*
Planner: Nonsense, everyone drinks scotch. Here!
*
The Management Planner hands Jobrinski a full glass of scotch, and settles back in his chair.
*
Planner: You intrigue me boy. There's a Pay Per View wrestling event taking place not too far from here, but you're sat here drinking scotch with me.
*
Planner stands up, and paces slowly around the room.
*
Planner: I have signed up with the NWWA for one reason, and one reason only. Do you know what that reason is Mark?
*
Jobrinski: Money?
*
Planner: Exactly. I mean, no! Not money! I'm here because everywhere I go, whatever I do, I'm always asked one question. You know what that question is?
*
Jobrinski: Mon...mon...err, no, I dont...
*
Planner: I think that scotch is getting to you kid. The question is, 'why can't you beat The Mad Redneck?'. Me? I've beaten him more times than you've had hot dinners! Everyone forgets I beat him, and I mean to correct that. Do you think you can help me with that Mark?
*
Confused, Jobrinski looks down at his near-empty glass and stutters.
*
Jobrinski: Me? N-n-n-n-o-o-o-o, I can't help. I can't fight!
*
Planner: I know that. Haha! I know that. But you can help me kid, I know it. Stand up for me.
*
Planner helps Jobrinski stand, and they walk to the corner of the room.
*
Planner: What do you see here?
*
Jobrinski: A table, sir.
*
Planner: Nope. No you don't.
*
Jobrinski: Sir? It is a table. I can see it.
*
Planner: It's not a table kid. It's a weapon.
*
Jobrinski: A weapon? How can a table be a weapon?
*
An evil smile plays across Planner's face, as he turns to look Jobrinski up and down.
*
Planner: I am so glad you said that. I'll show you!
*
With that, Planner grabs Jobrinski, lifts him high above his head, and brings him down through the table - what a devastating P45 from The Management Planner!
*
Planner: You thought I'd hire a kid like you? How stupid can you get?
*
Jobrinski lies motionless in a heap of timber, as Planner stands over him.
*
Planner: This is what is gonna happen to The Mad Redneck kid. I'm gonna decimate him with my P45. I'm gonna tear him apart with the Executive Board. My Management Statement will rip his ankle off. And the same goes for any others who get in my way.
*
Planner looks up at the ceiling.
*
Planner: You hear me, Redneck? I'm gonna finish you for good this time! Meeting adjourned!
*
The Management Planner storms out of his office, leaving Jobrinski unconscious in the corner...