A Day at the Big Q
“Come on, Brian,” Michael whined. “It will be fun.”
“Fun! You call the fucking Big Q fun!”
“But it will be you and me working together. That’s what will be fun. It’ll be like the old days when we both worked at the hardware store during the summer.”
“And neither of us was very good at that,” Brian reminded him.
“But you can use the money,” Michael said trying to persuade his friend to take the temporary job at the Big Q for the weekend.
“What the fuck will I do there?” Brian asked. “Will I be your assistant?”
“No, you’ll be stocking the shelves.”
“Well, that’s just peachy,” Brian griped.
“Brian, you know you need the money, since Vance…”
“Don’t remind me,” Brian ordered.
“Then come work with me this weekend. It’ll be great.”
Brian studied Michael’s face. It was evident that his friend really wanted Brian to take this penny ante job. Maybe it was Michael’s way of trying to help. Michael knew that Brian was finding it impossible to get another job in advertising since he had been fired from Vangard. Gardner Vance had made employment by another advertising firm out of the question. He had spread the word that Brian was not to be trusted or even considered for a job.
Michael probably thought that working at the Big Q was a good thing. Brian thought that it was the lowest of the low. But he had to admit that he could use the money. Any money coming in at the moment would be a godsend. Things were getting tighter and tighter as the days went by and there was nothing forthcoming in the way of employment.
“Okay,” Brian said softly. “I’ll take the job.”
“That’s great,” Michael said with a big smile. “You can see what I do every day.”
“I can hardly wait,” Brian replied trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
*****
“Hi, Brian,” Michael said happily as the two friends met up at the loading dock at the back of the Big Q.
“Reporting for duty, sir,” Brian joked, having decided that he would try to make the best of this fucking idiotic job. Michael thought they could have fun, so Brian would try to do just that.
“Glad you’ve got the sir part right,” Michael grinned.
Brian raised an eyebrow at that comment, but didn’t say anything. He suddenly got the impression that Michael was going to enjoy this a helluva lot more than he was.
“Morning, Michael, who’s this newbie?” a voice asked. Brian tried not to choke at the comment.
“Hi, Marley,” Michael said, the smile leaving his face. “This is Brian. Brian, this is Marley.”
“Ooh, I like,” Marley said boldly. Her flirtatious smile indicated that she was definitely interested in this new piece of meat that had come her way.
Brian decided to nip this in the bud. “Don’t get your hopes up, I’m…”
“He’s going to be very busy today learning the ropes,” Michael interrupted.
“Well, if I can be of any help, let me know,” Marley said batting her eyes at Brian before she entered the building.
“Why the fuck didn’t you let me tell her that I’m gay? She’ll be pestering me at every opportunity,” Brian protested.
“It’s better that they don’t know you’re gay,” Michael informed him, “especially Big Marley. She can spread gossip like wildfire. Trust me on that.”
Brian thought this was a big mistake but he followed Michael inside and didn’t press the issue.
“You can start stocking the food shelves,” Michael informed Brian. “All these boxes need to be shelved, and make sure the old stock is moved to the front while this goes behind it.”
“Right,” Brian said looking at the pile of boxes on top of a cart, just waiting to be wheeled out into the store.
“Are you ready?” Michael asked.
“How hard can it be?”
“I guess you’ll find out. Here’s your shirt.”
“Shirt?”
“Yes, every Big Q employee wears one of these.”
Brian looked at the butt ugly shirt and cringed. The shirt had a large “Q” embroidered on the chest. It was bad enough working in this dump, but having to wear this ridiculous piece of clothing, if it could be called that, was beyond the pale.
“Brian, you have to wear it,” Michael said firmly. “All employees do.”
Brian heaved a sigh. “Right.” He took the monstrosity and put it on over his own shirt. “It’s about three sizes too big,” Brian said.
“Nobody will notice,” Michael assured him. “You better get started.”
“Nobody will notice but me,” Brian mumbled as he started to wheel the heavy and ungainly cart out into the store.
Just then a buzzer sounded.
“What’s that?” Brian asked a man who was walking past. The man was wearing his own Big Q shirt.
“It indicates that the store is about to open. You better get to work,” he advised as he hurried away.
The employees all hustled to their appointed places. Brian kept pushing his cart looking for the food aisles. Finally he found the shelves that he was looking for, so he proceeded to open the first box. That cost him one fingernail which snapped back but didn’t break off when he tried to pull the flap loose on the box.
“Fuck!” he muttered.
“Did you say something to me?” a woman customer asked as she was passing by.
“Why would I be talking to you?” Brian demanded sarcastically, sucking on his sore nail. It hurt like a motherfucker. It probably would have hurt less if it had broken off instead of bending back.
“There’s no need to be rude,” the woman retorted.
“I wasn’t talking to you, so how could I be rude?” Brian demanded with a glare.
“I’m reporting you to the management.” The woman stomped off.
“Be my fucking guest,” Brian said as he ripped the rest of the box open. He started flinging the cans of Beefaroni onto the shelf with no regard as to what was already there or what stock should have been moved to the front.
“Brian,” Michael’s voice said to him.
“What?” Brian snapped.
“I just had a customer tell me that you were rude to her. What did you do?”
“I wasn’t fucking talking to her. If I was rude to anyone, it was this fucking box,” Brian informed his friend. He tossed the box onto the floor as he had finally finished emptying it.
“How can you be rude to a box?” Michael asked confused.
“Ask the box,” Brian ordered as he opened the next box, this time without breaking a nail.
“Brian, you can’t be rude to the customers. Customers are always right.”
“Who made up that fucking rule?”
“You know that it’s true,” Michael stated, knowing full well that Brian had dealt with enough difficult clients in advertising to realize what was acceptable behavior and what was not.
“Okay, but I thought I was stocking shelves, not dealing with the public.”
“You do whatever is required,” Michael stated firmly.
“Okay,” Brian said getting back to stocking the shelves the way he had been doing before Michael’s unwanted arrival.
“Don’t forget to move the old stock to the front,” Michael advised as he watched what Brian was doing.”
“Oh, how could I have forgotten the first rule of retailing? Sell the out of date crap before you sell the current crap.”
“Brian that’s uncalled for,” Michael said.
Brian shook his head and bit his lip swallowing the tirade that wanted to escape his lips. Michael left when Brian started to put the cans of corned beef he was taking out of the box behind the ones currently on the shelf. Brian breathed a sigh of relief when Michael finally disappeared.
Brian glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes after nine. He had lasted about fifteen minutes at the Big Q if he counted the meeting with Michael at the loading dock. Only seven hours and forty-five minutes left.
“Mommy,” a voice said from behind him.
Brian turned to see a little kid pulling a large jar of pickles off a nearby shelf.
“I want one,” the little boy said to no one in particular.
“Don’t…” Brian started to say just as the boy dropped the large jar. Brian lunged for it hoping to catch it before it hit the floor. No such luck. The jar landed near the kid’s feet and just in front of Brian. It splattered into hundreds of pieces while the dill juice sprayed all over Brian and the kid.
“Mommmmyyy!!!” the kid wailed.
Brian felt like wailing for someone to help him too, but it wouldn’t be his fucking mother. He looked at the mess on the floor and then at the legs of his trousers which were covered with the stinky pickle juice.
“What’s going on here?” Michael asked as he hurriedly came around the end of the aisle.
The boy’s mother appeared from the other end of the aisle. “Johnny, what happened?” she asked. “Did this man splash you with that pickle juice?” She glanced at Brian accusingly.
“Brian, go get a mop and pail from the storeroom. This needs to be cleaned up,” Michael ordered.
Brian’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I didn’t do this. The little brat over there did,” Brian almost yelled as he pointed at the kid.
“Mommy,” the boy said burying his face against his mother, “he’s yelling at me.”
“It’s all right, Johnny. Can’t you control your employees?” she asked Michael pointedly.
“Brian, get a mop.”
“I will not. I wasn’t hired to mop floors.”
“Brian!” Michael warned.
“You know what, Michael. You can shove your fucking job!” Brian ripped off the offensive shirt and held it out towards Michael who refused to take it.
“Brian…”
“How dare you?” the woman cried covering the ears of her son.
“I dare!” Brian declared. “I quit. That must be what the Big Q stands for – QUIT! I don’t know how anyone could stand to work here for more than…nineteen minutes,” Brian said looking at his watch for the correct amount of time of his employment at this crap emporium.
“Brian…” Michael said again.
“I’m done, Michael. Shove your fucking job!”
The woman covered the ears of her son again. The boy started to wail.
Big Marley came around the end of the aisle to see what was going on. “Oh!” she said as she saw Brian coming towards her.
“Here!” Brian said handing his soiled Big Q shirt to her. “Give this to the next poor schmuck who works here.” Marley looked at the shirt and then smiled at Brian batting her eyelashes. Brian bet she’d like to tell Michael the same thing that he just had.
“Nice to have met ya,” Marley said with her version of a coquettish smile.
“Yeah, but I’m gay, and so are some other people that you might not suspect.” He looked right at Michael before heading out the front door of the store.
When he reached his car he sat down in the driver’s seat with relief. Nineteen minutes of employment at the Big Q was at least eighteen minutes too long. He’d never get those minutes back. With a huge weight removed from his shoulders, Brian started the car and headed for the loft. Sometimes it was good to be unemployed.
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