The thread begins with Evan39 being summoned to an impromptu mandatory mediation. Tabitha, the senior HR manager and reigning queen of KFC bucket diplomacy, explains between sips, “Corporate wants this resolved internally. Kalisha’s threatening an ADA retaliation lawsuit after Karen #47's complaint, and frankly, I can’t be assed to deal with another diversity training module.”

Chad, her eager but inept junior HR associate, nods solemnly, clutching a clipboard like it’s his lifeline. “This is a delicate situation,” he intones, clearly out of his depth. Tabitha waves him off: “Chad, stop repeating things I said verbatim during onboarding. Just get them in the same room and let them yell at each other for an hour.”

The mediation takes place in a dilapidated back room near the frozen seafood section. Kalisha arrives flanked by Sir Squawkington, perched regally on her shoulder, wearing a tiny pirate hat. HR consultant Chad opens the meeting with a monotone, “We are gathered here today to find a collaborative solution in alignment with our workplace values.”

Sir Squawkington immediately interjects with a pitch-perfect mimicry: “Collaboration! Synergy! Teamwork!” Kalisha beams. “He’s so in tune with the mission,” she says, feeding him a cracker. Evan39 mutters, “Kill me now,” but nobody hears him over the bird’s escalating mantra of corporate buzzwords.

Midpoint Conflict:

Chad clears his throat. “Kalisha, while we respect your lived experience, the presence of Sir Squawkington has caused operational disruptions. Customers have… concerns.”

Kalisha scoffs. “Oh, so now my mental health is an operational disruption? I guess I’ll just have a panic attack in aisle seven next time. Maybe I’ll write ‘Do better’ in bird shit on your precious HR policies.”

Sir Squawkington punctuates this with a shriek: “Diversity! Equity! Inclusion!”

Chad, panicking, looks to Tabitha, who’s calmly finishing her drumstick. She throws Evan under the bus without hesitation. “Evan, didn’t you threaten to call OSHA over the self-checkout biohazard? Maybe you’re the liability here.”

Kalisha seizes on this. “Exactly! Evan’s just targeting me because I’m too real. I bet he wouldn’t say this if I had, like, a golden retriever or some therapy alpacas.”

Sir Squawkington, sensing the shift, narrows his beady eyes at Evan and shrieks, “Low productivity! Microaggressions!”

Evan39, cornered, mutters, “Yes, friend. This is fine,” as Chad suggests they explore a compromise: Sir Squawkington will wear a diaper and be confined to the floral department during peak hours. Kalisha reluctantly agrees but declares, “He’ll never forgive you.”

Climactic Fallout:

The next day, Sir Squawkington stages a hostile takeover. Breaking free of his floral department exile, the parrot rampages through the store. In one surreal moment, he dive-bombs Karen #47 as she innocently inspects organic blueberries, screeching, “WHORE!” before spiraling into the manager’s office, where he topples a pot of Folgers and begins imitating Tabitha: “Do your goddamn job and close the door!”

Adding to the absurdity, Sir Squawkington starts mimicking Chad’s HR jargon mid-flight: “Actionable insights! Circle back! Let’s table that discussion!” Customers pause mid-shopping, mesmerized by the bizarre display, while employees break into chaotic whispers about “the bird who finally told the truth.”

Kalisha uses the opportunity to rally her “bird moms” support group on Instagram, creating a viral hashtag: #JusticeForSquawkington. The post, featuring a teary-eyed Kalisha in the bakery feeding crackers to her feathered companion, reads: “Corporate America wants to silence us. But we won’t let them clip our wings! #EmotionalSupportParrot #SquawkRights”

Final Scene:

As corporate escalates the situation, Tabitha convenes an emergency All-Hands meeting. Before anyone can speak, Sir Squawkington interrupts from his perch atop the podium, declaring, “We value your feedback!” followed by, “Unpaid overtime is illegal!”

The meeting ends with Evan39 scrubbing the self-checkout machine yet again, Sir Squawkington watching him with unsettling focus. The bird mutters a chilling, “Do better,” before flying off into the rafters. Evan slumps against the mop bucket, whispering to no one in particular, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5637263&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310690",#48359706)