Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories (8 page)

How to Get a Job and Lose It in One Day

‘Come in, Terry.'

‘Tony,' I say.

The man looks down at his clipboard. ‘Oh, yes. Tony. Tony Ross.'

‘That's me,' I say, squeezing the bloke's hand.

His grip is weak, like a dead
fish.
Straightaway I'm suspicious. Dad always tells me: Never trust a man who doesn't try to break your hand when he shakes it.

‘Have a seat, please.'

He sits on the super-deluxe office chair while I get the wonky plastic seat. Typical.

‘So, Tony. I've been reading through your resumé. Under “Talents” you've listed two things: “burping the alphabet song” and “good kisser”.'

I try and hold back a chuckle but I can't help myself. Geez, I'm funny.

‘Do you see this as some kind of joke, Tony?'

Actually, I do. The school's paid this fully dressed-up business bloke with a bowl haircut to
find
everyone in Year Eight a job that goes for one week. Talk about lame.

‘Well?'

‘No,' I mumble.

‘How do you think those talents will help you get this job?' he asks.

‘Hmmm.' I try to think of an answer but all that pops into my head is what my mate Kane wrote down for his talents: telling jokes and making toast. I start chuckling again.

The man stands up. ‘We can end this right now if you want?'

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 hi
s place. ‘Well, if you know s
o much about serving hamburg
ers, 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 t
o get. The school won't let
me stay here for the week b
y 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
floo
r.'

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
figu
re 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
floo
r. 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
figu
re 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.