Imperial Human Resources Division
TK-421's
HR Complaints
Fourteen formal complaints. Zero responses. One Stormtrooper slowly losing his mind through the Imperial bureaucracy. Filed in triplicate. Ignored in quadruplicate. TK-421 just wants railings, iron sights, and a dental plan that actually exists.
Official Records
Filed Complaints
All complaints were filed through proper Imperial channels. None have received a response. TK-421 continues to file them anyway.
RE: Helmet Visibility Issues (Filed 47 Times Previously)
I am filing this complaint for the forty-eighth time. The standard-issue Stormtrooper helmet (Model TK-7g) has a viewport so narrow that I can see approximately 15 degrees of my total surroundings at any given time. This means that 96% of the observable universe is invisible to me while I am on duty. I have walked into walls. I have walked into other Stormtroopers. Last week I walked into Lord Vader himself, and I am only alive because he found it "amusing," which is a word I did not know he used.
I have attached — again — the seventeen-page technical analysis I prepared showing how a simple viewport widening of 4 centimeters would improve target acquisition by 340%. I have also attached the previous 47 copies of this complaint, all of which were marked "RECEIVED" and none of which resulted in any action whatsoever. At this point I am fairly certain that "RECEIVED" is Imperial bureaucracy for "we used this as a coaster."
I would also like to note that the Rebel Alliance appears to have no such helmet restrictions. Their pilots wear helmets with full-face visors. Their ground troops often wear no helmets at all. This may explain why a farm boy with zero military training was able to destroy our $1 trillion space station. Just a thought.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Unsafe Working Conditions: Bottomless Pits on All Platforms and Walkways
I would like to formally report that the Death Star — our primary workplace — contains no fewer than 6,000 bottomless pits, chasms, shafts, and openings with zero safety railings, guardrails, barriers, or signage of any kind. This is not an exaggeration. I counted. It took me four months. Three of my colleagues fell into chasms during the counting process.
The engineering team appears to have designed every single bridge, walkway, and platform as a narrow strip of metal suspended over an infinite void. The tractor beam controls are located on a platform the width of a dinner table, suspended above a reactor core, accessible only by a retractable bridge with no railing. Who approved this? Was there a design review? Did anyone at any point say, "Perhaps we should install a guardrail so our employees don't plummet to their deaths while adjusting the tractor beam"?
I have been told that the Emperor personally approved all interior designs. I have also been told that questioning the Emperor's design choices is treason. So let me be clear: I am not questioning the design. I am simply noting — for the record — that I have lost eleven coworkers to gravity this fiscal quarter, and none of their deaths were combat-related. They just... fell. Into pits that did not need to be there. In a workspace that is a sphere. WHY ARE THERE PITS IN A SPHERE.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Request for Iron Sights on Standard-Issue E-11 Blaster Rifle
The standard-issue BlasTech E-11 blaster rifle, which every Stormtrooper in the Imperial military is required to carry, has no iron sights. No scope. No targeting reticle. No aiming mechanism of any kind. It is, functionally, a flashlight that kills people — if you can figure out which direction it's pointing, which, given the helmet situation (see Complaint #HR-DS1-00147, filed 48 times), is virtually impossible.
I raised this issue with my commanding officer, who told me that "Stormtroopers are expected to suppress, not snipe." With respect, sir, we are not suppressing anything. We are firing blindly into corridors while Rebels casually walk past us. Last week four of us fired 200 rounds at a single Rebel standing in an open hallway. He was not moving. He was literally standing still. We missed every shot. He looked confused. I was also confused. We made eye contact — well, he made eye contact with my helmet, which is not the same thing — and he just walked away. Slowly.
I have requisitioned a scope from the armory seventeen times. Each request was denied with the note: "Not standard issue." I am requesting that it BECOME standard issue. Alternatively, I would accept a laser pointer. A flashlight duct-taped to the barrel. Literally anything that tells me which direction this weapon is facing. Please.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Lord Vader Force-Choked My Supervisor (Third Time This Month)
On the 14th of this month, Lord Vader entered Sector 7-G during our morning briefing and Force-choked my direct supervisor, Lieutenant Needa, until he lost consciousness. Lieutenant Needa's offense was informing Lord Vader that the Millennium Falcon had escaped from the Star Destroyer's scanning range. This is the third supervisor I have lost to Force-choking in the current fiscal quarter. The previous two — Lieutenant Ozzel and Commander Jerjerrod — were choked for "coming out of lightspeed too close to the system" and "not meeting the construction deadline," respectively.
I want to be very clear: I am not criticizing Lord Vader. Lord Vader is an excellent leader who inspires peak performance through innovative motivational techniques. I am merely noting that it is difficult to maintain a functional chain of command when the chain keeps getting Force-choked. I currently report to no one, because every officer who has been assigned to supervise our unit has been asphyxiated within 72 hours of their appointment.
Additionally, the choking creates a hostile work environment for those of us who witness it. I now flinch every time someone clears their throat. I have developed a stress-related neck condition. The medical droid says it's psychosomatic. I say it's a perfectly rational response to working in an environment where your boss can crush your trachea with his mind from across the room. I am requesting hazard pay, a new supervisor (preferably one who has been briefed on which topics to avoid around Lord Vader), and a transfer to literally any other department.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Missing Person Report: TK-421 (That's Me — Why Was I Not at My Post? Because No One Told Me Where My Post Was)
I am filing this complaint in response to the official reprimand I received for "not being at my post" during the incident on Docking Bay 327. The reprimand states: "TK-421, why aren't you at your post?" I would like to provide the following context that was not considered during my disciplinary hearing.
First: no one told me where my post was. I received orders to "report to Docking Bay 327 and maintain security." I reported. I stood in the docking bay. I was then told I was "not at my post." When I asked where my post was, I was told it was "wherever you're supposed to be." This is circular reasoning. It is also not helpful. I walked around the docking bay for forty-five minutes looking for a sign, a marking, a painted X on the floor — anything that might indicate "this is your post, TK-421." There was nothing. Just walls, bottomless pits (see Complaint #HR-DS1-00148), and a suspicious Corellian freighter.
Second: the Corellian freighter in question turned out to be full of Rebel operatives, including a Wookiee, a smuggler, a princess, and a farm boy who would later destroy the Death Star. While I was wandering around looking for my post, these individuals emerged from the ship, incapacitated me, stole my armor, and impersonated me. I woke up in my underwear in a storage closet. The official report says I was "derelict in my duty." I was unconscious. These are different things. I am requesting that my reprimand be removed from my permanent record and that, in the future, posts be clearly marked. Perhaps with a sign.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Uniform Complaint: All-White Armor in a Forest Environment
I have been deployed to the forest moon of Endor as part of the garrison protecting the shield generator for Death Star II. I am wearing the standard-issue Stormtrooper armor. It is white. Bright, gleaming, reflective white. The forest is green. The trees are brown. The ground is brown. The sky is grey. I am the only white object in the entire biome. I am, essentially, a walking target beacon.
I raised this concern with my commanding officer, who informed me that "uniform regulations are set by Imperial Command and are not subject to field modification." He said this while standing in a forest, wearing white armor, surrounded by 40 other soldiers in white armor, all of whom were visible from approximately 3 kilometers away. A local bird landed on my helmet during the conversation. It apparently mistook me for a mineral deposit.
The Rebel Alliance, I would like to note, wears camouflage on forest worlds. Green and brown. They blend in. We do not blend in. We are the opposite of blending in. If the enemy cannot see us, it is only because our helmets prevent us from seeing them first and accidentally revealing our position by firing 200 rounds in the wrong direction (see Complaint #HR-DS1-00149). I am requesting forest-pattern armor covers or, failing that, permission to roll in mud before engaging the enemy.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Injury Report: Hit by Falling Log Operated by Indigenous Bear Creatures
On the 19th of this month, during the Battle of Endor, I was struck in the head by a large log that was swung from two trees by a group of small, furry, bear-like creatures approximately one meter in height. The log was approximately four meters long and weighed an estimated 200 kilograms. It was suspended by vines and operated as a pendulum weapon. It hit me directly in the chest and launched me approximately fifteen meters into a ravine.
I would like to emphasize several things. First: I am a trained Imperial soldier equipped with advanced body armor, a blaster rifle, and years of military training. I was defeated by a teddy bear with a stick. Second: this was not an isolated incident. Across the battlefield, Imperial soldiers were being defeated by rocks, logs, arrows, and — in one case I personally witnessed — a hang glider made of sticks and animal hide. These creatures do not have blaster technology. They do not have metallurgy. One of them tried to eat a Rebel soldier because it thought he was a god. We lost to them. We lost the battle. We lost the war. We lost the second Death Star.
I am filing for workers' compensation for three fractured ribs, a concussion, severe bruising, and irreparable damage to my professional dignity. I am also requesting a formal review of how the Empire's most advanced military force was outmaneuvered by creatures who communicate through squeaking and worship a protocol droid. My therapist says I need to "process" this. I am processing it by filing this complaint.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Suggestion Box Submission: Perhaps We Should Install Railings
This is a formal suggestion submitted via the Imperial Suggestion Box (which I found wedged behind a trash compactor on Level 3, covered in what I hope was lubricant). My suggestion is as follows: install railings. Everywhere. On every platform, bridge, walkway, catwalk, observation deck, docking bay, tractor beam control station, reactor shaft, elevator shaft, ventilation shaft, and whatever that big open hole in the middle of Cloud City is supposed to be.
I have prepared a cost analysis. The Death Star has approximately 357 kilometers of unguarded edges. Standard durasteel railings cost 14 credits per meter installed. Total cost: approximately 5 million credits. The Death Star cost 1 trillion credits to build. Railings would represent 0.0005% of the total construction budget. We spent more on the officer's lounge carpeting.
Since the Death Star became operational, we have lost 947 personnel to falls. Not combat falls. Not "pushed by a Jedi" falls. Just regular, walked-off-the-edge-because-there-was-no-railing falls. For context, that is more personnel than we lost in the actual Battle of Yavin — before the station exploded. We are losing more people to interior design choices than to the Rebel Alliance. I cannot stress this enough: THE ENEMY IS LESS DANGEROUS THAN OUR ARCHITECTURE. Please install railings. I am begging you. I have attached a diagram. I have attached forty-seven diagrams. I will attach more.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Overtime Dispute: I Was Told This Was a Part-Time Gig
When I was recruited on Carida, the recruitment officer — a very enthusiastic man whose name I unfortunately did not record — told me that Imperial service offered "competitive pay, comprehensive benefits, and flexible scheduling." I was told I would work standard 8-hour rotations with two days off per week. I have not had a day off in fourteen months.
My current schedule is as follows: 0600-1800 patrol duty, 1800-2200 maintenance detail, 2200-0200 guard duty outside the detention block (where nothing happens, except last week when a princess, a Wookiee, and a farm boy showed up and it became very loud very quickly), 0200-0500 mandatory Imperial propaganda viewing, 0500-0600 breakfast (which consists of nutrient paste that tastes like drywall mixed with regret). I then begin my next patrol shift. I sleep approximately 47 minutes per cycle, usually standing up, inside my helmet, which — as noted in Complaint #HR-DS1-00147 — I cannot see out of anyway.
The recruitment brochure said "See the Galaxy!" I have seen the inside of the Death Star. That is all I have seen. I have been on the Death Star for fourteen months and I have seen six rooms, four corridors, and approximately 200 bottomless pits. The brochure also promised "career advancement opportunities." Seven of my supervisors have been Force-choked. That is technically advancement — for me — but it is not the kind of advancement I had in mind. I am requesting overtime pay for the last fourteen months, or a transfer to a posting where I am allowed to sit down.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Exit Interview Request: Transferring to the Rebellion
I am requesting a formal exit interview prior to my departure from Imperial service. I understand that "departure from Imperial service" is technically classified as treason and is punishable by death, but I feel it is important to provide constructive feedback so that the Empire can improve its employee retention going forward.
During my three years of service, I have filed 56 HR complaints. Zero have been addressed. I have requested equipment upgrades, safety improvements, overtime compensation, and basic workplace accommodations such as "being told where my post is" and "not having my supervisor choked to death in front of me." None of these requests have been fulfilled. I have watched two Death Stars explode, been defeated by teddy bears, and been knocked unconscious by a teenager who stole my pants. At some point, a reasonable person asks: am I on the right side?
I have been in contact with the Rebel Alliance. They have offered me a position. The pay is worse. The equipment is older. The chain of command includes a woman who choked a crime lord with a chain while wearing a metal bikini, which is honestly more intimidating than anything Lord Vader has ever done. But here is what they have that the Empire does not: railings. Their bases have railings. Their ships have railings. Their platforms have railings. I visited a Rebel base on a jungle moon and every single walkway had a guardrail. I almost cried. Please consider this my two weeks' notice. I will return my armor, which has never protected me from anything, including my own dignity.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Noise Complaint: The Theme Music Is Constant and Frankly Unsettling
I am filing a formal noise complaint regarding the persistent orchestral music that follows Lord Vader wherever he goes. Every time Lord Vader enters a room, a deep, ominous brass section begins playing from no discernible source. It is not a recording. It is not a speaker system. There is no visible orchestra. The music simply... exists. It follows him through corridors, into meetings, onto the bridge of the Star Destroyer, and even into the refresher (I heard it through the wall — I was in the adjacent stall).
The music is deeply unsettling. It consists primarily of low brass instruments playing in a minor key at approximately 120 decibels. It makes every interaction with Lord Vader approximately 400% more terrifying than it needs to be. I once passed Lord Vader in a corridor while he was drinking a cup of caf through a straw (the mask has a small port for this — I was as surprised as you are). He was doing nothing threatening. He was just drinking caf. But the music was playing, and three of my colleagues fainted.
I have asked the maintenance team about the music. They deny hearing it. I have asked the audio engineering department. They say it "comes with the suit." I have asked Lord Vader directly. He said nothing. He just breathed. Heavily. While the music played. I would like to request either an explanation for the music, a reduction in its volume, or a formal acknowledgment that I am not losing my mind, because at this point I hear the Imperial March in my sleep and I wake up screaming.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Insurance Claim: Psychological Damage from Witnessing Planetary Destruction
On the 14th of this month, the Death Star's superlaser was fired at the planet Alderaan. The planet was destroyed. Completely. Two billion people. Gone. I watched it happen through the viewport on Observation Deck 7, where I was stationed as a guard. No one told me this was going to happen. No one said, "Hey TK-421, you might want to look away for the next thirty seconds because we're about to commit the largest act of destruction in galactic history." I was just standing there, guarding a door, and then a planet exploded.
I am filing an insurance claim for severe psychological trauma. Since the event, I have been unable to look at circular objects without hyperventilating. Oranges, dinner plates, the Death Star itself (which I am currently standing inside of) — all of them trigger a panic response. The base psychologist — who is a droid, because the Empire does not employ organic mental health professionals — told me to "recalibrate my emotional parameters." I am not a droid. I have feelings. I had a pen pal on Alderaan. His name was Kev. Kev is gone. Kev, his house, his pet, his entire postal code — all gone. Because a Grand Moff wanted to make a point to a princess.
I understand that the destruction of Alderaan was "strategically necessary." I would like to understand why it was strategically necessary to have me WATCH. I was guarding a door. The door did not need to face the viewport. The door could have faced a wall. I am requesting trauma counseling (from an actual therapist, not a droid), paid leave to process the loss of Kev and the planet he lived on, and a formal policy requiring advance notice before planetary destruction events so that personnel can be repositioned to face walls.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Trash Compactor on Detention Level: Multiple Safety Violations
I am writing to report a series of safety violations regarding the trash compactor on Detention Level AA-23. First: it contains water. Standing, stagnant, unfiltered water of indeterminate depth. Second: something lives in it. I do not know what it is. It has a tentacle. It pulled my colleague TK-119 underwater last month and he was not seen again for six hours. When he surfaced, he would not speak about what happened. He has since requested a transfer to Tatooine, which is a desert planet with no water of any kind. I respect his decision.
Third, and most critically: the walls of the trash compactor CLOSE. They move inward and crush everything inside. This is the trash disposal mechanism. There is no override accessible from inside the compactor. There is no emergency stop button. There is no alarm system. If you are inside the compactor when the walls begin closing, your only option is to call someone on the outside and hope they can shut it down before you are compressed into a cube. This is not a theoretical concern. A maintenance worker was nearly crushed last week. He survived only because a protocol droid on the outside somehow accessed the shutdown codes.
I would like to ask: why is our trash disposal system a room that crushes people? We have incinerators. We have airlocks. We have perfectly functional waste chutes that eject trash into space. But someone — someone with authority — decided that the optimal method for disposing of garbage was a room with moving walls and a tentacle monster. I am requesting an immediate safety review, the installation of an emergency stop button inside the compactor, and the removal or relocation of whatever that creature is. It has a name now. The maintenance team calls it Gerald. Gerald needs to go.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
Dental Plan Inquiry: Was Told We Had One, Cannot Find Evidence It Exists
When I enlisted, I was told the Empire offered a comprehensive benefits package including medical coverage, vision (ironic, given the helmet situation), and dental. I have been attempting to use the dental plan for nine months. I have a cracked molar from when a Rebel hit me in the face with a blaster butt on Hoth. I have been told, variously, that: the dental plan is "administered by a third party" (no one can name the third party), the dental plan "only covers injuries sustained in combat" (I was in combat), the dental plan "requires pre-authorization from your commanding officer" (my commanding officer was Force-choked — see Complaint #HR-DS1-00150), and the dental plan "doesn't exist and never existed."
I have a copy of my enlistment contract. Page 47, Section 12, Subsection C states: "All enlisted personnel are entitled to standard Imperial dental coverage including preventative care, emergency procedures, and orthodontic services." I highlighted it. I laminated the page. I carry it with me at all times. Every time I present it to the benefits office, they look at it, look at me, and say "we'll look into it." They have been looking into it for nine months. My tooth still hurts. I am chewing exclusively on the left side of my mouth. This affects my morale and, more importantly, my ability to eat the nutrient paste (see Complaint #HR-DS1-00155), which requires significant chewing despite being technically a paste.
I am requesting either the activation of my dental benefits, a direct referral to an Imperial dental facility, or an honest admission that the dental plan was a lie used to recruit desperate people from backwater planets who didn't know any better. I can handle the truth. I have handled bottomless pits, Force-chokings, planet explosions, teddy bear armies, and a tentacle monster named Gerald. I can handle being told my dental plan is fictional.
Status: RECEIVED — No action taken
TK-421, why aren't you at your post? BECAUSE NO ONE TOLD ME WHERE MY POST WAS, SIR. I'VE FILED FIFTY-SIX COMPLAINTS ABOUT THIS.
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