7:30 am. I was awake, dressed up in my uniform, and ready to head out to work. I reached for the front door, but was interrupted by a soft rapping. On the other side was a somewhat older woman, probably in her late thirties or early forties, looking down on me with a polite smile.
“Well hi there, Mike!” she said amicably, her lips spread out in a soft smile. “Headed for work?”
“That’s right… Eunice,” I replied groggily, Mike’s memories stepping and filling me in on who she was. My landlady.
“Yeah, working Sunday mornings can be rough.” She looked towards the ground and scratched at her ever-so-slightly graying hair. “But I know you’re a hard worker, especially with your next rent payment coming up.”
Oh. Mike had spent most of what would’ve been his rent money on an expensive gift for Elaine, and now he was flat broke.
“But I know a young man like you has other priorities besides rent, so… if you ever have any trouble paying, feel free to talk to me, and I know we can work something out.” Eunice gave me a sheepish grin.
She was talking about sex, wasn’t she?
Her eyes slowly shifted down towards my chest, and then to my crotch.
Yeah, she was.
After Mike’s most recent series poor life choices, he was actually planning to take Eunice up on the offer, despite the attraction not being exactly mutual. In fact, according to his memories, he was planning to use that as justification for cheating on his girlfriend. It was a good thing Elaine beat him to the punch. Maybe those two were made for each other?
Well, I wasn’t made for Elaine. And while I personally didn’t mind Eunice, who in my humble opinion aged like fine wine into a bonafide milf, I knew I wasn’t going to get far in life paying my rent with sexual favors.
“You know, I really appreciate the offer,” I said with a forced grin. “But I’m going to work extra hard to have the money ready for you.”
“Well, ok then. But don’t overdo it! Take care of yourself first! And… is that salt?” She looked down at the ground at the line of salt I’d drawn last night.
“Huh? Oh yeah, I think it is! I’m a pretty clumsy cook,” I lied.
“You should be more careful, Mike. Spilling salt is an insult to the Lord of Words! Well, I’ll be seeing you then!” Eunice gave me one last smile before turning around and heading back to her own apartment.
It took another few seconds for the coffee to finally hit me, at which point my eyes began to bug out. Lord of Words?! Fuck, was he actually real? Well, who else could’ve given me this System anyway? But if he doesn’t like spilling salt, then drawing that line last night was probably a good move. Or more likely, if Eunice had the hots for me, that could’ve been her trying to check up on me back then.
Rather than ruminate on the unsettling information, I looked back at my wall clock and realized I was running late for work. I ran to my car and gunned it down the empty early morning streets to the mall.
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The parking lot was equally empty, as most people didn’t wake up this early to do their shopping on a weekend. The smell of asphalt and smog, along with my caffeine-addled brain, left me with a feeling of unease that I was certain would be prophetic. I found myself a nice spot and made my way into the middle-class boutique through the back entrance. It was just how Mike remembered it; musty smelling, poorly lit, and-
“Mike there you are!” shouted a gruff voice. It belonged to a pudgy, balding middle-aged man wearing a similar uniform, but with the addition of a lanyard indicating his seniority. It was the manager, Judd Wheldon, my boss.
“Hey Judd,” I replied, still half-asleep despite the coffee. Maybe I actually drank too much, because a slight tingling sensation was forming in the back of my brain.
“That’s Mr. Wheldon, to you, Mike. I’m your boss, remember?”
I slowly nodded in response, choosing to play the role of a polite silent type to get this guy to fuck off as soon as possible. Only a slight departure from Mike’s usual sniveling yes-man attitude.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“What’s wrong there, Mike? Cat got your tongue? Hahaha!” His laugh at the end sounded more like a wheeze. The man took plenty of cigarette breaks whenever he had work.
“Sorry Mr. Wheldon, it’s just been a rough week for me is all,” I replied.
“Rough week? Don’t tell me it’s rough unless you caught your girlfriend cheating on you! Ha!” He let out the same wheezy laugh as before.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened,” I deadpanned.
“Oh, well that’s too bad,” he replied, sounding mildly sympathetic. “But that’s not going to get you a day off, so here’s the tag printer. We’ve got a sale going on and I need you to print out new price tags for all of the men’s shirts!”
I exhaled as I took the handheld machine and nodded, before making my way into the main floor and looking around for the exact section Judd was talking about. The tingling immediately subsided in my newfound solitude, but returned in an instant.
“Oh, hey Mike!” came a high-pitched voice from behind me. I turned around to face one of my other co-workers, Cathy. Catty Cathy, the 30-something year old with a plump face and neon dyed hair was known as the most lively out of the boutique’s employees. Well, lively in the sense that she loved to flirt and gossip. “So, whatcha up to?”
“Hi Cathy,” I responded, not paying her too much mind. “Judd’s got me taking care of retagging the shirts over there for the sale.”
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound too hard,” she replied animatedly. “Now restocking the blouses, that’s hard! And mean ol’ Judd’s got me working on those.”
“Mhm,” I simply nodded in reply.
“How about if we switch, I’m sure you’ll get the chance to talk to plenty of ladies who come your way there. It might get you hard,” she said casually. “And if they don’t, then maybe I will.” She winked at me.
My eyes widened, but it was due to her directness rather than the offer itself. Too bad it hadn’t even been two weeks since the last time she used that line on me. In fact, Cathy promptly dismissed Mike when he tried cashing it in then.
“Sorry, not today,” I replied, cutting her off as I made my way to the shirts. I was sure I received a piercing glare in response, but I didn’t let it bother me. I had a job to do after all, and a garden to cultivate.
The task went by smoothly, as I just had to press the same button repeatedly and put the resulting sticker on each shirt lining the white-painted wooden shelf. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it let me focus my mind and brush off the worst of my residual sleepiness.
That focus didn’t last long. I was interrupted halfway through by an unassuming man demanding I tell him where the changing rooms were. His presence once again caused the tingling to surge, but I didn’t let it bother me, despite its greater strength. Was I just allergic to other people or something?
Pushing the thought aside, I used Mike’s memories to point him in the right direction and sent him on his giddy way. I guessed some people just really liked buying new clothes? I never really understood it myself, preferring to keep my old T-shirts for as long as they had more material than holes in them.
“You know you should be more attentive to customers like me,” the man said in a huff. “Be lucky I don’t report you to your manager!”
Or maybe I was just allergic to assholes? At last he was gone now.
As I finished my task, I was approached by another employee, a 25 year old man named Andre. He was accompanied by another mental tingle. Andre had curly black hair and tanned skin, and according to Mike, a bit of a “complex.”
“Mike, I see you’re re-tagging the shirts,” he said, leaning on the nearby wall with a cocky grin.
“That’s right, Andre,” I replied with the same plainness I’d used with Cathy.
“You know, the sale applies to all shirts,” he said, lifting his nose up at me. “So you should take care of the ones over there too.” He pointed towards another shelf in the distance.
“Well that’s not what Judd said.”
“As someone who’s going to be assistant manager soon, you’d better do as I say if you still want to have a job,” said Andre, narrowing his eyes. “And the next corporate inspection is coming up, so I don’t want you making me look bad. Especially in front of Charlotte when she gets here!”
“Well for now, you’re just another clerk like me, Andre, so no. I don’t think I will.” I returned his glare with my own icy gaze.
The man immediately took a step back in surprise, never having seen that side of Mike Smith before. All of Mike Smith was now a new side. Thankfully, Andre’s megalomania didn’t cloud him from the malice in my own expression. He made the right decision in backing off.
I think I was beginning to understand why people hated working retail. Well, half the reason.
I finished the price tags and headed towards the back to get my next set of instructions. I would’ve taken a break first, but without a smartphone, I’d just be staring at the sky or something else boring. Another monotonous task could at least give me a chance to zone out and make time pass by faster.
As I passed by the changing rooms, I was hailed by that annoying sensation again, this time more forceful than any time before. It definitely wasn’t a headache, but I still tried my best to push it down. I was doing a pretty good job too, until I heard moaning.
“God fucking dammit.”