Get a Job, You Bum
Chapter 25: Get a Job, You Bum
Sunday, I woke up extremely drained which literally made sense. In a way. I had masturbated to Alice’s picture.
It was true that Alice had also blocked me on Facebook (I should’ve gotten the hint, right?) but Joe hadn’t and he had tons of pictures of her. There was one where she was standing by the strange Kelowna fountain by the water and that’s the one I chose.
I saved it as a jpeg and then printed it. Then that night, well, you know the rest.
I was draining myself of love but I didn’t think it was disgusting and I still don’t. I remember that in I Love You, Man they talked about how it’s better to masturbate to your wife’s photo than some other girl’s.
So when I woke up, I was quite groggy but that day I planned to get a job. My life was an emotional rollercoaster but it was better to stay on the tracks than get off.
I dropped off my résumé at several minimum wage job stores and this small painting store close to my house was delighted to have me.
“Do you know much about art?” the owner asked me. Her blonde hair was in a bun and she had very bright blue eyes, which made me think of Susan, which consequently made me think of Alice.
“Sure,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell her the eye story.
“What kind of art do you like?”
“Well, I really like paintings especially landscapes.” This was true.
“Yeah, I like fields: the golds and browns. I love how colour basically can paint real life.” Again, true.
The woman smiled at me. “When can you work?” She really thought I would be a great addition to their team.
“Um...tomorrow.” I didn’t want to tell her that I was currently unemployed, but I think she knew.
“Fantastic. So basically you’ll just be the guy on cash. Have you ever worked a cash register before?”
“That’s fine. How are you with math?”
“A bit rusty.”
“O.K. It shouldn’t be too hard because basically all the calculations are done for you. You just have to take the cash and give them change. Credit card’s are even easier especially if they use PayPass. You know what that is, right?”
“Excellent. So our store tries to promote local artists and so time and time again you may see an artist drop by and give us a painting. I should usually be here so there should be no problem but if I’m not, just bring the painting to the back. Are you busy right now or do you want a trial run on the cash register?”
“I’m not busy.” So the owner showed me how the cash register worked and I soon found it to be quite simple.
“Do you draw, yourself?” the blonde girl asked me whom I now found out was named Celfie.
“Not really, but it is an interest of mine.”
“Awesome,” Celfie smiled. “What sort of art do you think you would pursue, canvasses? or more directly, landscapes?”
“Maybe,” I answered. I really had no idea.
Celfie could tell that I was literally a struggling artist (more like struggling careerist) and so she told me my schedule for tomorrow and let me leave her picture store. I walked home happy that I had a job. The pay was even twelve dollars, which was more than minimum wage.