Persecuted Vegetables

“You know what?” said Frenzy, holding his bottle of Smart Water. “I quit!”

“You can’t quit,” said Frank. “You just got laid off. This is a tech job. Didn’t you read the sign?”

“Where am I supposed to work? Who’s going to pay for my perspective books, my toucan feet?”

“I’ll tell you who’s not going to pay for them. Uncle Slam. Now beat it, kid. You’re making my kidney stones uncomfortable.”

Frenzy was angry. He had worked his way through six years of a four-year of a bachelor’s degree, a two-year vacation on top of a 6-month “sabbatical,” and another four days for ice cream.

In college, he had been a double minor in Spanish philosophy and French weightlifting. As intelligent as he was, he still had no idea what his Social Security number was, often calling his mother at the last minute, begging for the only digits that would follow him to his grave.

Suddenly, he was unemployed. The event was sudden. First, there was the dot-com bubble back in the year 2000. Then, twenty-four years of layoffs, business closings, tent cities, and homelessness all around.

How was someone supposed to prepare for a crisis with only a quarter of a century’s lead time? He figured that he’d join the circus or, more likely, quit the circus and go back to reality.

But for now, he’d have to get dinner. He walked up to the McDonald’s drive-through window.

“Yes, I want some avocado toast with a brisket and a Smart Water.”

“Cancer or AIDs. That’s all we got.”

“Whoa, you drive a hard bargain. How do I choose?”

“Well, flip a coin.”

“I don’t have any coins. I needed the coins to get enough gum wrappers to make this shirt.”

“Nice. You could sell that on Amazon.”

“Thank you. Look, if you could send some avocado toast by air freight, I’d wait by the window until it got here.”

“Couldn’t you just go to the grocery store and make your own?”

“Grocery store? I’m not made of money. Besides, I just got my new DebtBaker card with a $10,000 limit on it.”

“You could buy literally $10,000 worth of avocado toast…”

“What?”

“I said, you could buy $10,000 worth of avocado toast. Just charge it to the card. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

“True, true. I think you just gave me an excellent idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll do that. I think I’m going to go to the store right now…”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I think I’m going to go to the store right now and buy $10,000 worth of avocado toast.”

“My work here is done. I quit!”

The attendant then left the window, prompting Frenzy to head towards the grocery store. The line at the grocery store was around the block. And that was just the line to get in. Frenzy stood there, thinking about his tech job. How he promised himself that, no matter what, he’d never write a single line of code. Even if they fired him. Even if they laid him off.

Frenzy had an idea. He pulled out his Nintendo Switch and started playing Pokémon Go. He’d leveled up his character and was on the hunt, looking for his one and only collection of pixels. Suddenly, a group of shoppers surrounded him.

“Hey, isn’t that that ancient game that was once popular?”

“Yeah, that guy’s a once-cool, once pertinent being.”

Frenzy then set up the game so that it would play itself, using an AI chatbot. While the other shoppers were mesmerized by the self-playing Pokémon bonanza, Frenzy entered the grocery store unencumbered.

The inside of the store looked like a warzone. There were lights hanging from the ceiling. Products were left on the shelves half-opened and spilling on the floor, which was itself littered with merchandise.

Not wanting to get caught, Frenzy slinked around like a spy.

“In every generation, there is needed a guardian. A man who can master his own emotions. That man deserves avocado toast.”

After sneaking through the aisles for a few minutes, Frenzy, thinking himself supreme, found a large pile of avocados, sitting next to a pallet of Texas Toast.

“Only a man of superior intelligence. Can navigate the storms of the crests of manor.”

He picked up one avocado and one bag of Texas Toast, going to the register. When he got to the register, he scanned each of the items. When the computer asked for the amount, he put in 5,000 for each one.

When the self-checkout register flashed $55,340 as his total, Frenzy was nonplussed.

“Ah, I know. Why doesn’t Frenzy just make it a downpayment?”

Frenzy then looked through the menus and found the option to make a downpayment. He entered $10,000. The receipt popped out. Frenzy had won.

“Like taking candy from a baby…”

Frenzy, in his excitement, took the avocado and the Texas Toast home to his studio apartment on the upper east side. He took the avocado and the Texas Toast inside and sat in front of the television.

“I know. I’ll watch last-year’s Super Bowl!”

Frenzy then turned his television on and turned it to YouTube. He then made himself some premium popcorn and began to eat it. After the first quarter was done, he had an epiphany.

“Ok my friggin’ God! I just left $54,990 worth of avocado toast at the store! Oh, my Jesus, I’m a-comin’ home tonight! Oh, what a cruel twist of fate! How could I be so sincerely misled? How could I be so sincerely, sincerely miswronged?”

After a few moments of excitement, Frenzy began to settle down.

“Well, at least I know that I didn’t spend the money on Oreos. Guess it’s time to cancel this credit card and get another one. At least I used credit, so my score should go up.”

The next morning, Frenzy was reading the paper when he found it.

“Ooh, a no-code tech job training AI. Now that’s job security. Yeah!”