What a fukkin’ turn of events. Got me a fat wad of cash now. I counted it. It’s $87. Not too bad for four minutes of work. I strut around my apartment, waving around the cash like a duck proudly holding an entire bag of bread. Which I guess this is. Sweet sweet bread for the buying of things. I’m jazzed. I want to go again. Another round on the Ferris wheel or whatever it’s called please! Give me another chance to grab at the brass ring! I sit, satisfied on my couch, loving every minute of it. I don’t even care about the skinmouth man right now. Got my sights on higher thoughts. I can retire pretty early at this rate. I wonder when I’m going to get the next call? Nieman says that Deborah only got called out to do red file things every once in a while, but they can’t but give me more things to do once they see how fast I get shit done.
I close my eyes. Job well done. I deserve to close my eyes. I open them again and the sun is going down. Shit. Sleeping on the job. What if I missed a call while I was napping on my luxurious couch? I reach in my pocket and pull out the wad of money. I want more. I tap my foot. I look around. I hear a little ringing. Fuck yeah!
I run to the phone, jamming it into my ear like an old pro now. Neiman is on the other line. “Nice” he says “that was a company record you got yourself just now. The big boys are high five-ing everywhere and they brought in extra jugs of water for the water coolers so everyone can celebrate.” “Wow!” I say “pretty great! Sounds like a pretty cool party over there!” “Oh yeah. We’re partying pretty hard over here” I hear him take a sip of something. Probably that fine fine water from the water cooler. Jealous. ”that brings me to my new point” Neiman says “I’m not the only one with this job, you know? Got us a whole bunch of people in this place, doing just what I’m doing. They got red files across their desks from time to time, just like me, and they got people to run the words outside and do the tasks, just like Deborah used to do and just like you’re doing right now.” I interrupt “what’s my job name? Title? What I tell people I do now?” Neiman pauses “well, I wouldn’t go around telling people what you do, first off. If you must say something, tell people that you recycle cans or something. It’s better that way.” “Okay, I get it” I say “secret secret and all that.”
”just so” Neiman says “but if you want something to call yourself, I think what people call it around here is being a Jobber. My title is Runner, so that makes the most sense I guess.” “Jobber” I say “I like that. Doing jobbers and all that.” “Yeah, jobbers, that’s funny. You’re a funny guy.” I smile. “Well, back to what I was saying, There’s a bunch of Runners in here, each with their own jobbers, but some of them aren’t to satisfied with the production rates of their personal jobbers. As you can imagine, we can’t exactly post an ad in the paper, it has to come naturally, and some runners are stuck with either jobbing themselves on their lunch breaks, or giving red files to other runners with a jobber that’s worth half a damn and doesn’t take a week to get things done. You following me so far, jobber?” “Sure am.” I say “go on, gimme the deets, man. Lay them right on me.”
”okay” Neiman goes on “so as you can imagine, that’s become a bit of a problem. I was lucky in that you were able to take over for Deborah, wherever she went, so I don’t have to do jobber work on my free time, but others arren’t so lucky. There are Runners in here that have never even had the luxury of a Jobber. Pity for them. They work too much and have to sleep on cots inside their offices.” I’m trying to picture the kinds of cots these people sleep on. They must be, like, the size of matchboxes. “Now to my point, if there is one, you did such a fast job, that every poor Runner soul is clambering for a taste of your magic. They want to start dumping red files all across my desk now. Not once a year, once a day. There are hundreds of Runners in here, so you can probably guess that at least one of them has a red file coming across their desks every day. That’s where you come in.”
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I pump my fist. I can see where this is going. I think. “I wanted to give you a call, not just to say good job. Good job by the way.” I say thanks, I couldn’t have done it without... Neiman cuts me off “but to make sure you’re going to be able to handle that kind of work. Sometimes the red files are easier than what you did today, sometimes they’re harder. Sometimes the jobs are so hard, they can’t be done. That’s when the Jobber has to be replaced right away. Without warning.” I ask “is that what happened with Deborah?” Neiman thinks a second “no. Not really, she was a struggler, but she always got the job done. I think she was in the middle of a red file the last time I spoke to her. I just assumed she was still working on it, but I guess she either gave up, or the job turned into something of a fiasco. She could be a puddle on the train tracks for all I know.” I stop him “wait wait, Deborah might be dead from doing a red file? Jobbing a red file?” “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes that happens. Not to worry though! It only happens once in while. Not like, very often. Not even often enough to bring it up. You don’t trip too often do you?” I look at my feet “no, not really” “then you should be fine.” Neiman says “It’s usually from someone being naturally clumsy, not from the task itself. Sometimes the reds take you to places that are precarious. Just have to use your noodle, that’s all.”
”oh, I can do that.” I say “I use my noodle all the time.” “Good” Neiman says, jovially “then you don’t need to worry!” “Oh good!’ I say. There’s a silence. “Welp” Neiman says “just be ready by your phone every day then. I think you’ll get at least one red file a day, but it may be as much as two. same things goes as before, get it done as quick as possible, and watch out for cash in unexpected places. Little tip for you, if you do get two red files in one day, or even at the same time, start with the one with the most words on it first. The longer ones are the most important and are extremely rare.” “Was the one I did yesterday an extremely rare one?” Neiman says “not really, a little bit though. that was, what, nine words or so? Ten words?” I say “yeah, that sounds about right” Neiman goes “that’s about an above average one. Easy ones are two words or less, average ones are three to seven words, above average is eight to twelve words.”
“What’s the longest red file you’ve ever gotten?’ I ask. Neiman takes a moment to think “mmm, I think it was thirty-eight words long. That one was a dooze. I think now that you mention it, that was a company record. That happened about five years ago and people stil talk about it in the break room.”
“Sheesh” I say “sounds tough.”
”yep, pretty tough. Okay, all sorted out now, like I said, wait by that phone and you’ll be hearing from me a lot from now on.”
I say “wait! Can I have a different phone? I feel like I’m going to break this one. Also, I don’t know if it’s the humidity or what, but every time I pull this phone out of my ear, there’s a big glob of ear wax on it. I think it may start filling up the little holes for talkin’ and listenin’.”
”again, that’s gross, but you don’t need to use that tiny phone, you know? It’s the number I called, not the phone. that’s how phone numbers work. Just get a phone from the Goodwill or something. Oh, only make sure it’s not cordless. You can pick up a cordless phone call just by fiddling with the knob on a short wave radio. Don’t need people listening in on our convos, not that they would be able to make much sense of them any way. Can’t be too careful though!”
”right!” I say “okay!” Neiman says “talk to you later! bye bye!” I say “bye bye” to my new boss and yank the phone receiver out of my ear and hang it up. Time to get crackin’. Time to get crackin’ on getting my new and fancy phone that I can hold up to my ear.
I use the money that the terrier choked up to buy a black rotary style phone, a little table, deciding to splurge at the last minute on a small whiteboard and a whiteboard marker. Settin’ up a little red file station for myself. I haul all the suff back home and unplug the tiny phone and put it with the rest of the tiny office furniture, then jam in the new phone. Much better. I put it on the table and hand the whiteboard over it. Jesus. It looks pretty fancy. I feel like a real top boss. Everyone was impressed with me over there, wherever over there was, and I feel real satisfied. I sit on my couch next to the phone and wait. I close the curtains. The shed can wait. For the time being. I got some things to occupy my time now. But I won’t forget.