Dreams and Drive-Thrus

On his couch, Leonard sprawled out, head hanging over the back, staring at the popcorn ceiling. He thought about the new houses in his neighborhood, and how they likely did not have popcorn ceilings. Then he thought, suddenly remembering, that he was supposed to work tonight. But then he thought about his job. Working the drive-thru at a local fast food eatery was not why he attended a four-year university obtaining a degree in graphic design. Cleaning a flattop grill was not why he got a job working at a tech startup that went bust. Taking out the wettest and sloppiest of food refuse was not why he went from making six figures to making nine-fifty an hour. And then, if that was not enough, he got a call from a local hospital saying that his was father was ill, so he rushed back home to the Midwest, spending the last of his savings on an airline ticket. And now he stared at the ceiling because he was saddled with needing a place to live. Needing a job. Needing to eat. Needing.

Nevertheless, he could hear his father talking to him from the grave, reminding him to never give up, no matter what. So he spend his afternoons working fast food to keep the lights on and his tummy full. And he spent his evenings trolling Monster and Indeed, looking for any job that worked with his qualifications. The problem was that tech companies in the middle of the flatland were rare. All the postings were either in the realm of too far away. He quickly realized that there were no companies that offered employment in graphic design within one hundred miles of here.

Leonard peeled himself from the couch and walked into his room, maneuvering around the piles that his hoarder of a father had left behind. A total fire hazard, but all Leonard could do was to take out a little bit at a time on trash day. And he probably had enough garbage stored in this house to go through that routine for the next fifty years. He picked his uniform up from the pile on the floor, smelling them, and deciding that they were acceptable. Not like anyone would smell anything other than grease anyway. If that was not enough, his shift supervisor, Cameron, was eighteen, just graduated high school, and was on track to work eighty hours per week as an assistant manager, making more than triple what Leonard brought home.

He looked in the mirror. His face was haggard. Stubble peeked out across his chin, and the bags under his eyes bore the weight of the last two years of anguish. Even his hair had seemed to lose its color somewhat, resembling a president after their first term in office. He smacked himself in each cheek. And he did not pull his punches. He left a red mark in his wake, knowing that they would vanish soon enough.

Now outside, he climbed into his Dad’s old Honda hatchback. His car had been repossessed awhile back, so part of his savings was spent on ride shares to get to the airport and then home. He was not looking forward to his credit card bill next month. Turning the key in the little dwarf of a car, Leonard waited a second before the little thing cried to life. The whining noise from under the hood squealed like it had seen a mouse and the exhaust backfired loudly enough to convince Mr. Jacobs, Leonard’s neighbor, that he had fired a gun (which earned him more than one visit by local police). Now content that the car’s fit was over, Leonard shifted in gear and drove.

At work, Leonard took up his station with the headset on. He was partnered with Emily, who was a fifteen year old. She was also the person who was his “mentor,” and she was supposed to be showing him the ropes. Every day he looked at her braids and her manicured nails, resenting the fact that he had to take orders from a child. Not only that, but a teenager. Someone who was not even a fully evolved human yet. Their track of development somewhere in between pond scum and amoeba.

“That’s not the right, order, Lenny.” Her voice was so high that she could be a Minnie Mouse voice over.

He checked the screen. Sure enough, she was right. He cursed to himself, then remade the drink. Who in their right mind would order a large cola with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He stole a glance out the window. That answered that. It was a man… woman? It was hard to tell, but their jelly rolls were creased by the steering wheel as they breathed audibly. He could hear them over the ice machine. He placed the newly made drink next to Emily, who snatched it and put it through the window. But he had not thought to wipe it off, so the cup slipped through her long finger nails, turned over itself, the lid flying off, into the car, splashing across the customer.

They made a sound that was probably akin to a Velociraptor giving birth to triplets, and Emily covered her mouth in surprise, trying to cover her laughter. Someone behind them had pulled out a phone and had begun to record the whole ordeal. The woman… man? The person in the car shook violently, raging; the whole scene looked as if they were possessed by the devil himself and would need an exorcism.

Then came a voice that was all too familiar. It was Cameron, “Hey, Leonard. Can I see you in my office?” He walked away to ‘his’ office. It was the manager’s office, not his. But Cameron was so pompous about his overworked and underpaid position that he strutted his little shift leader pin like a peacock spreading their feathers.

In the office, Cameron typed on the computer, though Leonard was sure that there was no way he had a login for it. “Listen, Lenny…”

“It’s Leonard.”

“Of course.” Cameron nodded, “I am quite sorry. Listen, I think that we need to have a conversation about your future within the company. That was a serious mistake and Ms. Willoughby will not be pleased at all…”

Oh! So it was a woman. And her being displeased was more than obvious at the absolute fit she was having in her car.

“… that’s why I am reducing your hours.”

“Wait—what?”

“I said—”

Leonard held up a hand, “Don’t say it again. You’re reducing my hours?”

“Yes.”

“Cameron—”

“Mr. Smythe.” He corrected with an erect finger.

Leonard shook his head, “There is no way that I am calling you that.”

“That’s fair.”

“Let me run this by you one time. Just to be clear I understand.”

“Ok.” Cameron crossed his legs and placed his hands atop them.

“Emily is chronically late, and she has altered her uniform to fit her Instagram profile; Thomas is stoned out of his mind and smokes joints by the trash can; and Demarion listens to music on the grill while singing loudly and not editing the lyrics…” Leonard paused her for a moment to allow the heat building in his ears to dissipate a bit. “… and you want to reduce my hours? Because I didn’t wipe off a plastic cup. I wasn’t even the one who dropped the cup. Why isn’t Emily back here getting a talking-to?”

“Are you done?”

Leonard could feel the heat in his ears building again. He needed this job, so flying off the handle was, simply put, out of the question. He reminded himself to breathe deeply for a moment as Cameron began to speak again.

Cameron took a slow and steady breathe and unwound three of his fingers. Leonard could tell he was going to tick off each of these fingers on his hand one after the other. He could also hear some yelling out front. Probably the lady that Emily spilled that ridiculous drink on.

Leonard answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m done.”

“Ok,” and true to his pretentious form, Cameron stared at his hand and ticked off one finger after the other, using his free hand to curl them back into his palm as he explicated, “Thomas is in the back and works harder than most anyone that I’ve worked with here, even if he is stoned.” He used his left hand to curl his right index finger. “Demarion may sing loudly, but no one eats inside here. Hence the card table we have set up in the dining room.” He curled another finger. “And Emily and I are…” He started to curl this final finger, but he stopped.

Leonard noticed the pause. Cameron loved to stand on his soap box and make his speeches, and Leonard caught the innuendo. “Holy…”

“… I mean, she is a good… uh… worker… and, uh… she…”

He said it louder, “Holy cow!”

“… she… she… knows how to…”

Leonard could feel the excitement of knowing something that he should not. He could feel his blood churn in a way that it has not since his last design project where a local business had hired his firm to design their logo and menu board. He had loved that project because it was the first one that he had spearheaded. The clients had been so pleased that they told their friends and fellow business owners about their firm. That was when he had really started working. But then his boss, turned out, had been embezzling money from the firm. Then they tanked. And now Leonard was stuck hearing Cameron Smythe stammer over his words as he tried desperately to conjure an alternate story than the one he was about to tell. But nothing short of voodoo would put this cat back in its bag. Leonard had read the employee handbook and recalled each irreverent detail.

Especially this one: fraternization was heavily frowned upon. The punishment for which was instant termination.

And then he could hear Cameron again, “… yeah… that’s it… we are…”

Leonard held up a hand, “Listen, Cameron, just stop talking. Here’s what I am going to do. I am going up front and I will handle the irate customer. I am going to take the heat for this inconvenience. And when I return, we will talk about you not reducing my hours and actually providing me a raise for the work that I have done for you. In return, I will not reveal your fraternization as a supervisor with your lesser employees. Cool? Cool.”

And then he left the office, Cameron left stammering over his incomplete thoughts.

Out front, the lady, the disgusting cola concoction stained across her wide form, was slapping the counter top, causing the salt shakers to bounce around violently. Leonard grabbed the nearest set and put them on the counter behind him.

“—AND THEY SPILLED THE DRINK ON ME! THEY DID IT ON PURPOSE! I DEMAND THEY BE FIRED!”

“Excuse me, ma’am. I understand that you are upset. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“That’s right you are! I—”

But Leonard continued to talk, holding out a gift card. “Here you are, miss. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience. I am offering you this twenty-five dollar gift card that you can use at any of our stores. I have paid this amount directly from my own bank account as I was the person who forgot to wipe the cup off before it was given to you. I am very sorry for this situation.”

“I… uh… Yeah! That’s right!”

Somewhere along the way Cameron had shown up behind Leonard, “And I will be offering you a full refund of today’s meal.” He held out his hand waiting for Leonard’s manager card. It was placed in his hand. Leonard scanned the card on the register, found the order, and refunded it. He turned to the woman, who stared at the gift card absently, her fire turned to embers.

“Again, miss, I am terribly sorry for the trouble that we have caused you today, but I truly hope that we can continue to help you when you are in need of food in the future. If not, please consider visiting any of our other restaurants across the country. You have a nice day.” And he left the front register, pulling Cameron along with him.

He watched around the corner as the woman slowly shuffled out of the store, the door shutting behind her.

“How’d you do that?”

Leonard looked at Cameron, the young boy’s age and inexperience peeking through his broken facade of pride and superiority. “I worked as a project manager for a tech start-up in California for several years. My focus was graphic design, so I know how to work with people and help them get what they want.”

“Wow. So then why are you working here?”

Leonard sighed. He breathed his fear out through his nose and allowed his regret and depression go with it, “The CEO of the company embezzled funds, and we went broke. This happened around the time as my father passed away. I spent all my savings coming here, to take care of my dad’s house.”

“But, why not stay out there?”

“There was…” he paused for a moment, realizing that he never felt a strong connection to where he was before. He enjoyed his job. He liked his apartment. He like the city. But it was not home. “It wasn’t home.”

“I can see that. This town sucks, but…”

“It’s home.”

“Yeah. It is.” Cameron turned and walked off, but turned. “Thank you again for handling that crazy lady. And I will file the paper work to get you that raise. If you want more hours, I can add you to more shifts.”

Leonard through about it for a second, and said, “You know what. No thanks.”

“But I thought you said…”

“Yeah.” He waved Cameron off as he removed his apron, “I know what I said. I hate this job. I hate this store. I hate working under you, for sure. So, if you don’t mind, please fire me.”

“Wait…” he held up his hands in confusion. “After all that, you want me to fire you?”

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

“Because I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. I’m tired of waiting for something to happen. Mostly, I’m tired of wasting my talent in a place that where I work under someone who is less intelligent, less gifted, and less qualified than I am. I should be your boss. But I’m not. So, please, fire me.”

“Uh… I probably should be offended, but…” Cameron hesitated like he was not sure if he could actually do it or not. “… you’re… fired?”

“Thank you.” Leonard threw his apron in the garbage, then left the restaurant. Not only did this relieve a physical burden, but letting that apron go released the emotion burden from him as well. The apron was just a reminder of his inability to succeed, and all such remnants needed to be burned.

When he got home, he booted up his computer, and signed up for a website with a credit card that still worked. Through the night he toiled, creating a website that advertised his services as a project manager and freelance graphic designer. He opened up social media accounts that announced his arrival in the small town to satisfy all the local businesses assistance with their needs. Leonard had spent a long time begrudging this town for its size and its isolation. But what it lacked in availability, it made up for in need. Businesses needed his help. And now he know how to do it.

He fell asleep at his computer.

When he woke up the next day, it was well into morning. He relieved himself, grabbed a box of cereal to munch on and sat back down in front of his laptop. When he checked his profiles, there were comments welcoming him to the area. Business owners had shared his page, and he already had tons of activity on his website.

Even the company from the project he had lead had shared his pages! “Leonard is simply the best!” they wrote.

And under his registered email, he saw a message for a request to help a local flower shop with re-branding. They considered using some big firms from out-of-state, but they preferred to stick to locals as much as possible. To support small business. Leonard smiled.

Things were finally looking up.