"Ah, sit down, Moistbeard."
"Aye, yer lordship."
"Er, yes. Just George will be fine, Moistbeard. Our company culture is one of informality. Anyway, let's get down to business. You've been with us a little over six months now, haven't you?"
"Aye, yer lord - aye."
"Company policy dictates that we have these little chats, they're called appraisals but they're more of an opportunity for us to get to know each other, decide what we can do to help you achieve your personal career goals."
"Size each other up, like Ahab and his fish."
"Yes. Ahab's in accounts, isn't he? Smashing fellow. So, let me just scan through your appraisal form and we'll take it from there. Hmm, under 'achievements' you've written 'plundered the seven floors, stirking fear into the hearts of all the desk-lubbers'. Care to elaborate?"
"Aye, sir. My crew and I have formed many a raiding party, gathering what booty we could find - staplers, photocopiers, serving wenches, dubloons."
"Dubloons are trousers, aren't they?"
"Beggin yer pardon, sir, but no. Them's pantaloons ye be thinking of."
"Yes, quite. Didn't know we had any serving wenches, either."
"Well, I was being polite there. Mildred the tea lady is a little creaky in the yardarm, but she'd have been offended if we hadn't at least tried to cart her off in captivity."
"Well, that certainly shows ingenuity and resourcefulness. You know, I could do with a stapler myself - they're jolly hard to find."
"Say no more, sir. I'll send my cabin boy over this afternoon."
"Well, thank you. I've never had much luck requisitioning one."
"No, sir. The stationery department is full of cutthroats and petty thieves, they don't follow the Law of the Sea. Luckily for us, my cutlass speaks their language. Yarr."