Eduard Dautrive
His Desk (15) -> Main Office; Dunder Mifflin
"
Eduard LaFontaine De La Teur Dautrive; I'm the head of HR here at Dunder Mifflin. More or less a self-explainatory job title there." The hulking Cajun smiled to the camera as he leaned back in his office chair, a short, thin cigar sitting smoking in the cheap ashtray in front of him, wafting the pungent cloud out the window under a sign that emphatically declared 'No Smoking'. "
Hiring, payroll, keeping this place an effective and supportive work enviornment. That's my gig here, been at it for three years and it's looking bright as ever." Almost on cue, he could hear Aidan shouting outside his office, as he always did at this time of morning. This time it was about coffee. Again. Ed sighed and took a puff on his cigar, exhaling out the window as he listened to Aidan scream."
Got a few challenges now and then as you might expect from an office like this, but I like to think that we're one big family here."
The morning was as typical as could be for this office. Most of the staff was here, with a few stragglers stumbling in and trying to avoid Aidan's wrath, as he'd already begun his daily epileptic fit. Ed listened to most of his boss' ravings, seeing as they accounted for the source of most of his complaints. Today it seemed that Chris would be the one visiting him in the office, no real surprise there. He sighed, taking a long pull of his Irished-up coffee and started out of his office, knowing that it would time for the weekly meeting soon enough. He nodded over to Gwen, hooked into the book adaption of the Harry Potter play his kids had begged him to take them to see.
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Yep." He said rather casually, sipping at his drink again slowly as he eyed Aidan with a shake of his head. He was thinking about starting up a betting pool on when the man would give himself a stroke. That would just be mean, though. He turned back to Gwen, then. "
So, what's Rowling printing these days then? Kids have been begging me non-stop to get 'em a copy first chance I get." The big Cajun drained the last of his drink then, tossing the empty cup in the general direction of the nearest trash can, missing by about two feet. Well, he'd been a tackle for a reason.