Buy in or rat out

by Jan Tailor

Buy in or rat out

  By: Jan Tailor

  Copyright 2012

  ISBN: 978-0-9880807-3-7

  ***

  Concentrating on the paperwork in front of Karin was impossible. She was waiting for the phone to ring, and had been for most of her afternoon volunteer shift at the community police station. When her phone did ring, though, she was not certain she wanted to pick it up.

  “Tommy, can you sit at the front counter for a minute? I need to take this,” Karin said this as she bolted for the door. Outside, she answered, “Karin Sawyer speaking.”

  “Craig Hogue, HR manager for the Emergency Services Dispatch Lower Mainland.”

  “Yes, we met a few weeks ago at the interview.” She could not ask the question.

  “Yes… your interview was very good and you are strong in languages. However, we had to go with another candidate. Don't be discouraged.”

  “Why did you go with someone else? Was I not qualified? Did you contact all my references?”

  “Our report says all your references are glowing and you have the qualification. But your background check did not come back clear.”

  “When I applied I disclosed everything and the recruiter said there was nothing barring me from entry to this position! I don’t understand?”

  “You should not dwell on what counted you out of this job. You are a talented woman.”

  “I have the right to know.”

  “Our consultant feels that you have not addressed your addiction to marijuana. It says, ‘though she paid the fine for minor possession of an illegal substance (marijuana), she has never confronted her addiction problem. This is exemplified by her relocating immediately after her transgression without taking the judge's advice go into a recovery program.'”

  Karin leaned against a wall, sliding down the glass into a squatting position, while she said, “But I was nineteen… never smoked pot again. I had to leave! I was pregnant and I had to get away from the father. If I was here it would not have gone to court.”

  “I understand your disappointment,” he said. “Do the right thing. Learn from this.”

  Craig waited for a response but got none.

  “Ms. Sawyer, I wish you the best of luck. Good bye.”

  Karin closed her phone, hugged her legs and struggled not to sob as she rocked. She thought, ‘How could they lead me on? I told them all about that. I’ve arrested people for smoking pot. Where is the reason in this? I’ve done everything to get there.’

  The glass door opened next to Karin, and Tommy asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I didn’t get the job.”

  Karin stood up.

  “Tommy, I hate to do this, but I have to resign from the position. I’ve got to get another job.”

  “Don’t you already have two?”

  ***

  Clicking through want ads, Karin was doing mental math on how many hours she would have to work to make enough to keep eight-year-old Josh in clothes. At the wages Karin could make, there were not enough hours in the day. Josh would only need more if he was going to live a normal life.

  “Mom! Cops is on! Come and watch it with me!” Josh’s yell was excessive for the tiny one bedroom apartment.

  “Not tonight.” Karin renewed her search, knowing it was in vain. All the good jobs need education, which she had neither the time nor money to get.

  The buzzer rang. Karin thought, ‘Oh shit. Work.’ She got up and yelled, “Josh, get to bed!”

  When she rounded the corner, she saw Josh already asleep. She answered the buzzer, telling Sam to hang on and she'd be out in a minute. Before leaving, she let her neighbour, Janice, know she was working the graveyard and Josh was home alone.

  ‘Thank God for good neighbours,’ she thought, even if the odd emanation of marijuana came from the neighbour’s door.

  Karin didn't recognize the car Sam was driving, but saw him inside the brand new Acura. She got in. “Nice car! Who did you steal it from, Sam?”

  “Buddy helped me get it.” Karin gave Sam a look that withered him. “What? It’s legit! His cousin’s got a dealership, and this one…”

  “Fell off the truck.”

  “That’s not it, Karin… Buddy explained it to me.”

  “Do you know that the janitors, Roy and Eboye, are so afraid of him they make me check their bags before they leave every morning? I know them; Josh plays with Eboye’s son Irenico. That is fucked up.”

  “Yeah, and he knows every brown gangster shot in Surrey. But that’s true of every brown guy from Surrey. Sure he’s a tough guy, but crooked? He works with you in security. How could he get hired?”

  “Indeed.” Karin turned to look out the window. “Turn the music on. I’ll see enough of Buttar tonight.”

  Karin and Sam walked in the distribution centre entrance together. They both waved to Buddy in the security office as they entered. Sam continued into the distribution centre. Karin turned into the security office.

  Buddy got up. Proud to be 6’4”, his face rounded from steroids, wearing a muscle shirt, with the black line of a beard on his jaw line, he wore a smile big as he was.

  “Beautiful Karin, here to let me go home early – you’re the ma- I mean... woman.”

  “You’re not leaving early if I’m not getting overtime, and Brian won’t authorize that. I have no time for shooting the shit today. Just let me sit and read.”

  Buddy sat back down. Elbows on his knees, hands folded, he asked “What’s wrong? You’re normally serious, but a cheerful serious. And you look tired.”

  ‘Sympathy from the devil’s better than none’, Karin thought. She sat down at the other desk. Then, with a sigh, she told him about her goal to be a 911 dispatcher. It was the only good job with lots of OT and without the danger of being a cop that she could get with her skills. Then she told him how the dream shattered.

  Buddy rubbed his chin. “Yeah, know how that feels. Got turned down to be a cop last year.”

  Karin had to laugh. She tried to hide it, but a chuckle or two came out as she tried to cough it out.

  “Laugh at me, you fucking chug?!”

  Stunned, but not to the point of inaction, she opened the drawer where an oversized mag-light and handcuffs were hidden. She laid a hand on each.

  “You’re so fucking high and mighty, you don’t see me getting fucked like you? They did not hire me as a cop because of my cousins. Every fucking brown guy has cousins that aren’t legit. But I get fucked for it because I want to be a cop. You got the same criminal record check here that I got. And you know the boss here, Sasha, is the wife of an RCMP sergeant and would she hire me if I was like my cousins? Of course not! You know Sasha can get access to CPIC (the police criminal database) from her husband. Just like the 911 guys didn't hire you because you’re native.”

  Karin's mind settled from the explosion of truth she did not want to accept. Pot was not the reason she was not hired, being native was. Her voice low, head bowed, she said, “I’m sorry… it's just all the bling, the deal, and the look--it screams gangster.”

  “Is a guy on a Harley HA? I like the style. I like to party – who doesn’t? And I have good connections because I treat people well.”

  Buddy changed his tone. “So what you gonna do now? A good looking, talented, quick, tough,” he pointed to the mag-light now in her hand, “girl like you has to have a plan.”

  Karin slumped back in the chair.

  “No plan, B. I got bad credit from my last ex, so I can’t get a loan from anyone. My ex that fathered my boy, Josh, is respected in the tribe and would take Josh if he caught wind I was trying get help from the band. Working as many jobs for as many hours to support my boy is my reality.”

  Buddy looked more serious and lowe
red his voice, “My father lends money to people who can’t get credit. Short term, like for Sam’s car. Nice car, my cousin gave him a great deal. We could work something out?”

  “Really, thanks. Borrowing anything is out of the question, I don’t make enough to pay it back.”

  Karin thought, ‘how could I label this guy a gangster? Every white boy has said that about my brother and how bad were they? Just trying to live a good life.’

  “Smart. Credit not all it is cracked up to be. I’m the supervisor at my brother's company; we do security and first aid for parties, weddings, bars and stuff. The normal door girl and first aid can’t make it next weekend to a dance party. We need someone female, quick, tough, experienced, and with first aid. Basically, you frisk the women for weapons and confiscate drugs, and then work as first aid and kick people out. It can be dangerous, but we carry mag-lights and mace.”

  Buddy smiled wide, “And with how quick you think it’s the others that have to worry. I’m impressed you actually went for the cuffs and light.”

  Karin blushed at Buddy’s complement.

  “You ever work in a store?”

  Buddy shook his head. “You get quick at picking up threats and good at cuffing or you get hurt. How much does it pay?”

  “Twenty an hour, plus 10 per cent of the door and coat check and anything above that you wanna charge them.”

  The last words got a strong look from Karin.

  “Joking about the last bit… but sometimes you’ll wanna. Probably, two bills cash money at the end of the night for about four hours.”

  “Two hundred bucks? I’m in!”

  Karin got up to shake Buddy’s hand.