The day Vinnie Paulson got the ultimatum his father was coughing and wheezing all the way down the stairs. Mainly from all the fumes from Vinnie’s weed habit.
“Now look,” the old man said. “I am sick and tired of you stinking up the house you lazy bum.”
Vinnie, satiating some munchies with half a burrito, didn’t reply right away.
“You’ve flunked out of high school, got no college prospects, I will throw you to the curb unless you earn your keep.” A set of the classified ads was tossed at Vinnie, who caught it on delay with greasy fingers after it had already landed on his chest.
“If you don’t have a job by tomorrow you’re gone!” The old man wheezed his way back upstairs.
Vinnie exhaled and took a look at the classifieds were stuff had been circled. Office clerk? No. Shipping? No. Mining labor? So far all the jobs sounded hard and sucky. Vinnie slunk further into his well worn groove on a pot and shroom infused couch. Distinct apathy at whether he’d be forced to complete actual labor or be thrown out of the house left him indecisive. He turned the newspaper pages back over.
“Gerbert Gerbil’s looking for new hiring.”
In the dim light Vinnie skimmed over the notice. The space themed pizza joint all the kids frequented? Damn, that didn’t sound hard at all! Maybe he could score some free pizza out of the deal too.
Interviews open. For once there was a different kind of fire lighting Vinnie up.
Despite not having any applicable skills, demeanor, or shirts that didn’t reek of perspiration, Vinnie found himself a job. Greg Pierce, a reedy and jovial kind of guy, lead him through the hiring process, uniform and other tidbits.
“So this is what we in the business call the main Showroom Floor,” Greg indicated after Vinnie had been given a uniform. The checker tiled dining room faced a central stage that housed the main animatronics; Gerbert Gerbil, Hippos Don, Moolia the Cow and Fuchsia the Flamingo. Each table had cheap white paper confetti pattern tablecloth, the booths on the edges having menus while a few tables in the center were set up for a party.
“This is where the show happens. We also have individual party rooms for multiple groups so they rotate between their main party space and coming out here for the show. The key thing to working a Gerbert’s is good knowledge of the space.”
Vinnie was scratching his chin and only half listening. He always got itchy towards the end of his buzz.
“Remember to smile,” Greg said with a plastered grin. “You are the face of Gerbert Gerbil’s!”
Vinnie forced a smile, wisely keeping his teeth covered.
“Now this is Mabel Lynn,” Greg indicated a petite woman, probably no older than Vinnie. “She’s our new floor manager so she’ll be responsible for getting you up to speed.”
“Welcome!” Mabel said with her own smile. Though not a genuine smile, she was cringing at the sight of Vinnie. Greg didn’t appear to notice.
“She’ll be instructing you on all the spaces we need cleaned. Like I said before the key to working here is good knowledge of the space. I’ll be in touch.”
Greg departed with a wave. Vinnie, unsure if he needed to wave back, returned a very delayed wave. A pair of fingers was snapped in his face.
“Now look here pothead,” Mabel said, true colors showing. “I can tell you might not care about whether you keep this job or not. But I care about my job and I can’t have you jeopardize that. So don’t do anything stupid or I will have you blacklisted, understand?”
She reminded Vinnie somewhat of his old man, so he just stayed quiet and nodded.
“Good, now you need to report to…”   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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