by Pat Flynn
That would be fine with me, but then I’d probably get yelled at by the deputy principal and that’s not something I enjoy. Mr Garrahy can make even me feel bad, which is pretty impressive. The bloke’s a talented yeller.
‘No, I’ll be right,’ I say. ‘I’m just … umm … nervous.’
He sits down again and tugs at his tie. I do the same thing but unfortunately mine comes off in my hand. At recess I took it off to flick Gavin Fox in the leg and I couldn’t tie it back on properly. My mum wasn’t around to help this time. I stuff it in my pocket and hope the guy doesn’t notice.
‘Let me read out what you wrote in your cover letter,’ he says.
Dear Sir/Madam
I am a very creative individual. Therefore my dream job is to create the perfect hamburger. I have lots of experience with hamburgers as I’ve eaten hundreds of them and always give them a rating out of ten. My highest score is 9.5 and that was for the Heart Stopper from Greasy Joe’s Burger Palace.
What I’d like to do is cook the hamburgers. I don’t really want to add the lettuce and tomato and healthy stuff like that. Someone else can have that job. I reckon the secret to cooking them perfectly is to add a bucket load of oil and to flip them at exactly the right time. When you flip them, it’s also important that they land in the pan, and if I missed and one landed on the floor, then I’d eat it myself because I don’t like food wastage.
Regarding money, I’d like to be paid quite a lot so I can buy Ashleigh Simpkin (my ex-girlfriend) something special. At the moment she’s going out with Matt ‘Devo’ Deverson and because his dad owns a computer company he’s very rich and can buy her lots of cool things.
I look forward to getting the job and the money.
Yours faithfully, truly and sincerely
From the one and only
Tony Ross
I lean back in my chair. I couldn’t remember what I’d written, but now that I’ve heard it, I must say I’m quite impressed. It sounds fully business-like.
‘Tony, what makes you think that you will earn any money?’ says the man.
‘Well, Miss Mason said that a worker should always try and argue for the best deal.’
‘But you wouldn’t be a paid worker. You’d be there to gain experience.’
‘I’ve got plenty of experience,’ I say. ‘What I need is cash.’
The bloke looks at me for a few seconds like I’m dumb, but I reckon he’s the dumb one. Would he work for free? I doubt it.
‘Tell me, Tony, why do you want to enter the fast-food industry?’
‘Well, for one, I like food. And two … I’m pretty fast.’ I smirk.
He just looks at me. ‘I’m going to need a better answer than that.’
I think for a few seconds. ‘Well, I’d probably get a lot of free stuff at the end of the night. Burgers, shakes, girls’ phone numbers. That’d be heaps good.’
He rubs his eye sockets with his thumbs. ‘All right. Let’s do a hypothetical.’
‘A hyper what?’ I say.
‘A pretend situation.’
‘Righteo. Pretend away.’
He strokes his tie as he talks. ‘You’re working in the store and it gets very busy. There’s a big line-up at the checkout and an even bigger line-up of cars at the drive-through. Who do you serve first?’
‘Hmmm.’ I go to stroke my tie too but find out it’s not there anymore. ‘Definitely the ones in the store. People wouldn’t mind waiting in their cars for half an hour or an hour. They can just turn on the radio and talk on their phones. The ones in line could get angry and start chucking plastic knives at you.’
I lean back again. If that didn’t impress him, nothing will.
‘What if I told you that you’re absolutely wrong? That you should always serve the drive-through customers first because people in their cars are usually busier and more impatient?’
‘Well, if you told me that, then I wouldn’t believe you.’
The man raises his eyebrows. ‘Why not?’
‘Well, that’s just your opinion, isn’t it? If you ask my opinion, people in the drive-through aren’t busier, they’re just lazier. Look at me. When I get a car I’ll never walk inside a restaurant again.’
The man sits up tall in his chair like he’s trying to look down on me. ‘Tony, let me tell you something. I’m a professional recruiter. That means I’m paid to know what businesses like McDonald’s and Hungry Jack’s want from their employees. You, on the other hand, are a Year Eight student. And looking at your last report card, not a very good one. Don’t you think you should be the one listening to me?’
This bloke’s really starting to get on my nerves. I reckon he needs to be put in his place. ‘Well, if you know so much about serving hamburgers, then why aren’t you out there doing it, huh? Instead you’re interviewing me for some job that we both know I’m going to get. The school won’t let me stay here for the week by myself, will they?’
The man doesn’t answer. He stands up.
Uh-oh. He looks hacked off. I hope he doesn’t take off his tie and start whipping me.
But all he does is say softly, ‘I think we’re finished here.’
‘Cool.’
When I walk out my heart skips a beat. The person waiting to come in is Ashleigh. She’s wearing a tight black skirt and a white shirt with the top button undone. She looks hot. I wonder again why the heck I dumped her, especially now she’s got her braces off.
‘How’d you go?’ she asks.
I give her the thumbs up. ‘Free burgers all round. What job are you going for?’
‘Hairdressing.’
‘Cool. I could use a buzz.’ I run a hand through my thick brown hair.
The interview bloke clears his throat. ‘I’m ready for you, Ashlyn.’
I turn around. ‘Her name’s Ashleigh.’
The bloke snaps. ‘I wouldn’t be giving any advice if I were you, Terry. You need to worry about finding yourself a job.’
I’m sick of this bloke’s attitude. ‘Look, the school’s paying you to find me a burger place. As Mr Nike says, “Just do it.”’
I give Ash a smile. Paying this guy out should make her realise that I’m not afraid of older guys. Like her boyfriend, who’s fifteen.
She looks away.
The man raises his voice. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t have to do anything for you. If you want work experience you’re going to have to knock on doors yourself. And with your attitude and appearance, good luck.’
What? My attitude and appearance are as good as anybody’s.
‘What’s this guy talking about?’ I ask Ash.
She looks me in the eye. ‘He’s saying you’re silly and ugly.’
The bloke sniggers. Ashleigh walks in and the door closes.
Far out!
*
I suck on a thickshake and rub the sweat off my forehead. It’s been a long day, pedalling my BMX to ten fast-food joints and handing in three resumés. I would’ve handed in more resumés, except that three was all I had because my printer ran out of ink.
I must admit, getting work experience has been harder than I thought. My plan was to line up at the counter, order something cheap like a cookie or an ice-cream cone, and get a job. The main problem was that the kids I spoke to were not much older than me. When I told them I wanted work experience, one of them laughed and turned to the next customer; one said, ‘Don’t be crazy, dude’; and one went, ‘Do you want fries with that?’
At the last few places I asked to see the owners but they weren’t around. Talk about lazy. And silly. They’ve got all these kids running their restaurants for them. Anything could happen.
I slump in my seat and put my feet up on the chair. After this it’ll be time to go home and make a plan B. Trouble is, I’m running out of time. Miss Mason said that if I
don’t find a place to take me, then I’ll spend the week doing worksheets in Mr Garrahy’s office. Talk about the pits.
A girl in a uniform walks over. She’s probably going to ask me to put my feet down.
‘Hello,’ she says.
‘G’day.’
‘I’ve been told you want some work experience.’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, I’m the manager here and we’re actually looking for a spare pair of hands. Mind if I ask you some questions?’
The manager? She looks about sixteen. ‘Sure.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Umm …’ I’m having a mental blank because she’s got this huge zit on her nose and I can’t stop staring at it. ‘Tony,’ I eventually say. ‘Tony Ross.’
‘My name’s Sherie. Date of birth?’
‘Umm …’ She covers her nose with her hand and it finally comes to me.
‘Right, Tony. You’re hired.’
‘What?’
‘As I said, we’re pretty short-staffed. Do the work experience week for us, and if it goes to plan you’ll have a part-time job afterwards if you want.’
‘With money and that?’
‘Yep. That’s why most people work.’ She gives me a tight smile. ‘Not me, though. I work because I love it.’
I’ve hit the jackpot, scoring a job just for knowing my own name and date of birth. Sherie must really like the look of me.
She shakes my hand. I hope her zit isn’t contagious. ‘One little thing, though,’ she says.
‘Yeah?’
‘I need you to start your work experience right now.’
She’s got to be joking. ‘Now?’
‘Yep.’
‘But it’s not for two weeks.’
‘It’s just that we’re really desperate today. I’ve had four staff call in sick. It’ll give you a taste of things around here and it means that you’ll be paid for the last day of your work experience week.’
‘But I haven’t had lunch.’
‘On me,’ she says, pointing to the big stack of food on the metal shelves.
She’s just talked me into it.
*
Sherie gives me a uniform and I change in the toilets. I’m not going to say anything to her but it really stinks in here. Someone should clean it up.
‘Your first job is to clean the toilets,’ Sherie says when I walk out.
‘Really?’ I say. ‘They seemed okay to me.’
‘I can smell wee from here, Tony. Do you know how to use this?’ She points at a mop and bucket.
‘Well, not—’
‘Good. I’ll be back in twenty minutes and I expect you to be able to eat off the floor.’
I hope she doesn’t make me do it.
I’m about to ask if I can have some lunch first but she’s already hurrying away.
I take the mop and bucket and crash my way into the toilet. Now I just have to figure out how this cleaning business works.
I put the mop into the bucket. Then I take the mop out of the bucket and rub it on the floor. I’m pretty sure that’s right because I saw the janitor do it on The Simpsons once.
Geez, it’s turning into a swimming pool in here. I have another look at the bucket and figure out that I’m supposed to squeeze the mop through the roller thingy-me-jigs.
Yep, that works much better.
Before long the bathroom is looking spick and span. I lean back on my mop and admire my work. All around me is shiny and wet except for around the door, which is on the other side of the room.
Far out!
I think about tiptoeing across the wet tiles so I check the bottom of my shoes to make sure they’re clean. There’s gum on one, and something that smells a lot like dog poo on the other.
Double far out!
I’m still trying to come up with a plan when the door opens and a familiar face peers in.
‘Cleaning toilets, hey, Rossy? I can see you’re moving up in the world.’
‘Kane! What are you doing here?’ I ask.
‘On a date with Megan Frost. Fast food followed by fast moves, if you know what I mean.’
‘Megan? I thought you two broke up.’
‘We have. But it’s Saturday afternoon and I was bored, so I called her up and convinced her that what she needed this weekend was a little bit of Kane.’
‘She must be desperate.’
He looks at the wet floor, then at me. ‘You’re looking a bit desperate yourself, mate. Painted yourself into a corner, have you?’
‘It’s not paint,’ I say. ‘It’s water. Give me a hand, will ya?’
I chuck Kane the mop and he catches it one-handed. Then he starts strumming the hairy end. I can’t help it. I laugh. While he’s playing mop guitar, I empty the water into the urinal. Then I throw Kane the bucket and he catches it using the end of the mop.
Now I just have to figure out how to get across the floor without dirtying my sparkling work. It’s not easy, especially when another thought pops into my mind. ‘Hey, Kane. How do you get a girl to like you again once you’ve dumped her?’
He gives me a look. ‘You want Ash back?’
‘Maybe,’ I say.
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t like your chances. Devo’s got lots of moolah.’ Kane rubs his fingers together. ‘And you don’t.’
‘Can you help me?’
‘Probably.’ Kane brushes back his hair like his idol, Steve Smith. ‘I’m the king at getting girls to like me for a second time. They never trust me again, but trust is overrated, anyway.’
‘Well, how do you do it?’
‘Why should I tell you? What can you do for me?’
I think. ‘Umm.’
A brainwave hits me. ‘I can get you and Megan free food. Anything you want.’
‘Really?’
‘No worries. I’m tight with the manager. We’re like this.’
I hold up crossed fingers.
‘Promise?’ he says.
‘Yep.’
‘All right. Listen up, then.’ His voice is serious and I lean forward to catch every word. ‘To win Ashleigh back, you gotta compete.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve got to fight for her. Show her that you’re a better man than Devo by beating him at something.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Sure. Deep down, girls are just damsels in distress, and we’re the knights. They want us to fight each other to the death.’
Hmm. I gotta figure out how I can beat Devo and get Ash back. But first I need to get out of the toilet.
Kane opens the door.
‘Where are you going?’ I say, but it’s too late. He’s already walked out. He’s always leaving me when things get tough.
If only I could fly, or walk on walls. Or both. Super Spiderman.
While I’m coming up with a plan involving tightrope toilet paper, the door opens. A plastic food tray slides towards me and stops a few metres away.
‘You didn’t think I’d leave you here, did you?’ Kane says.
‘Thanks,’ I say. Maybe he’s a better mate than I thought.
He continues. ‘Not when you’re going to get us free food.’
Yeah. Thanks.
He nods at the tray. ‘Surf’s up.’
I look at it for a moment, smile, then jump back and kick off the wall for extra height and power. In mid-air I extend my arms for balance, which is just as well because when I land on the tray with my feet slightly apart, it skims across the wet floor like a hovercraft. I nearly fall backwards, but years of skating down wet grass on cardboard is now coming in very handy.
I’m flying across the toilet floor and thinking that this is the coolest job a bloke could ask for, when I realise that I need to stop. Now. And a plasti
c tray doesn’t have brakes. I’m about to hit the door so I do the only thing I can. I close my eyes.
Bang!
Kane must have kicked the door open because I go sliding through into the restaurant on my tray skateboard. I swerve past a little kid and scare an old lady, who drops her walking stick and yells at me as I fly past. I try to stop myself by grabbing onto the condiment stand, but all I do is knock down a tub full of straws.
I come to a stop by running into the back of Sherie, who falls onto the front counter and into a tray of food. When she turns to face me, I can see that her white top is covered in chocolate topping. It looks delicious.
‘Get out!’ she hisses.
‘Aww, c’mon, Sherie—’
‘Out!’
‘All right. All right. But can I have my lunch first? You promised.’
Her teeth clench together like a werewolf’s. She turns around and slides the tray of food towards her.
‘Here’s your lunch.’
But instead of handing me the tray, she takes a fry and spears it like a dart at my chest!
‘Well done!’ says the old lady. ‘A good belting is the only thing young hoons of today understand.’
I reach down to the floor and pick up the chip. Then I throw it at the old lady. ‘That’s for calling me a young hoon.’
‘How dare you!’ she screams, tossing her Senior Burger like a frisbee at my head.
I catch it. Sucked in, old lady.
Then I get dunked from behind with a full cup of freezing soft drink. ‘That’s for attacking poor old ladies!’ Sherie says.
I unwrap the burger, open it up, and throw it at Sherie. Mustard and pickles splatter her face. ‘That’s for attacking innocent young boys.’
Sherie turns away. I’ve beaten her. She’s going to cry.
Kane and Megan are standing behind me, probably waiting to pick up their free food.
Then Sherie does a 180 and squirts something at my head. I duck and Megan gets hit in the face with a stream of tomato sauce.
‘Aghhh!’ she squeals.
Kane grabs a sachet of mayonnaise off the condiment stand and pops it. He gets Sherie in the hair.
I give him five.
Then Sherie squeezes the end of her nose and her zit explodes like a volcano. Pus shoots out and sprays my left eye.
