While it may have been over two years since the seventeen year old intern at Mannered Cat Inc used his gaming skills to save the other world he was summoned to and open a permanent portal back home, one still doesn't expect a "Mr. Green, G." to have green skin. The sapient races immigrating in from that other world is still confusing. It was tough enough to hide the look of shock at the sight of his scarred face, but I had to save face to not appear racist. For all we know, Mr. Green really is the most qualified candidate, and at the very least his stench has been less offensive than some of the other coworkers I've had the pleasure to deal with.

I've been terribly busy due to the short staffedness—I'll take whatever help I can get.

Pleasantries and introductions were played out. The usual, "Master Green was me father, call me Goog" and explaining what the job is. Why someone so used to dealing with large beasts and prolific magic would want a career in something so mundane was beyond me, although when I candidly asked later it was revealed that Goog took this path because he was under the impression it was for honorable men. Given the dozens of "Urgent!" in my email queue, I decided to offload Goog into his first task which was to help with Mark in Sales. I had a little concern about a misunderstanding when he stormed off saying "I will find my mark" but he came back a few minutes later saying "I fix it."

I asked what did Goog do, and he told me "I turn off and on again." Classic. He may not have the best grasp over human language but at the very least he knows the fundamentals. I commended for him as such. I had so much to deal with, I just let him the ringing phone to our department and deal with the next issue while I updated the server.

...

I heard a bonk sound followed by clatter in the distance. Such a loud sound could only have been produced by the tree trunk thick arms of Goog, who was saying some Orcish words carried over by his stentorian voice. I was worrying that my risk in character judgment might have back fired and I was getting up to investigate were it not for the elated "It works! Thank you, Goog." I heard shortly after.

When he came back I asked what happened, and Goog said "Mefinks problem's fix like at home, human word 'z Percussive Maintenance. P'bit'kak Ingrid-Santiago not know, but Goog does. 'Z like squigglies."

And so it kept going. I was worried Goog might not get the more complicated problems on call, but he would type with his sausage thick fingers while on call and resolve the issue. We've received nothing but thanks and commendations from our feedback.

I asked how did he learn so much about computers in the last couple years of which the portal has been opened. "Goog'el is like me boss at home. When Goog not know, Goog ask. Goog'el tell Goog what to do, and Goog'el don't hit me on head like big Green."

Goog just googles everything like anyone at I.T. I don't know why it felt like such a plot twist. Weeks go by, not a single complaint about the hunched hulk. While his reasonings and explanations may be off beat in the logs, he got the job done. For example:

Another computer frozen, "Goog reset."

New scanner in the department needs installing, "P'bit'kak. Mark know not how to deal with grey wizard like an Orc of the Scorpion Sting tribe."

We're setting up the router. "Sorting wires z no harder than sorting bitey snakes at home."

There was one time he mentioned saving things to a backup drive is like making a soul copy on a rune in Grobdingog, but I definitely felt like I was missing some context for that.

One day, when code was compiling, I asked Goog "P'bit'Kak, what does it mean? It's the one Orcish word I keep hearing you repeat."

Goog responded "Problem Between Chair And Computer."