Chapter Text
The smell of newspaper—the fuzzy feeling of it, too, under your hands—does not overpower the taste of the root beer candy in your mouth. It does not distract you while you wait.
One last bite from your molars and the rest of the hard candy shatters. It cuts at your gums, but you wean off the pain as you chew at the paper stick it exposed. It keeps you focused while you read up on part-time job listings scattered on the side of the newspaper you picked up days ago. Many of them already are circled or crossed out in marker, keeping track of the supplies dispatch gig nearby in Teufort or calling off the babysitting in three days time.
A specifically hard gust of wind interrupts you and ruffles the paper. After smoothing it out to continue reading, it takes you a second to continue where you left off. Your tsk is muted by the lollipop stick, half chewed up. Where you're sitting isn't supposed to be particularly windy. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Most warm weather tethers over the line of comfort where it becomes unbearable and thus having you wear something much more casual and loose, but not today. This Tuesday’s sun is at that nice, toasty temperature where it doesn't overwhelm you, letting you wear a dress out that still falls under your firm's uniform guidelines.
Right, your job. Today's workload isn't finished just yet, but the way it's formatted on the programme gives you the opportunity to sit on a bench between the storefronts and park and watch passing families. The grass is extra bright today.
You catch the eye of a young boy over your newspaper. His mother isn’t looking your way as she drags her child by the hand, though you notice a similar dress on her to the one that you’re wearing. Bought from the same store, perhaps. You scrunch your nose.
You’ve long since recovered from the sudden wind chill, and the mother and son end up turning the corner, interrupting your sudden people-watching. The sound of you straightening out the newspaper cuts through the air. You pay it no mind, already returning to the job openings. Let's see here…
None of the rest exactly catch your eye. Really, you don't even need any extra hours or jobs to keep you stable. Your current employment at the local sect of Bylaws & Communications pays you generously for your labour. Being an accountant in your last workplace really helped you transfer and settle in with all the numbers. All you do is crunch them down into nothing under your heel. Metaphorically.
If not the money, why do you spend your so-called break looking into other work? Maybe just that it interests you is as simple of an answer that you can get. Most positions cannot keep your attention for long enough before you’re looking for other volunteering opportunities, but there are too many hours in a day where you end up spending doing literally nothing. Filling up each inch of your schedule with work in helping others is just one of the few ways you can keep some enrichment in your life. It’s simply a bonus if you get paid.
To say you’ve gotten quite a bit of experience (trades-wise, at least) under your belt is an understatement. Getting real close to being a whole Jack of all trades. You don’t like to be involved with the “master of none” bit. The idea makes you frown. You remind yourself to keep your expression neutral on the outside.
In any case, the sheer volume in your resume is no laughing matter! You have a whole list of connections up your sleeve, though too many of them have gone down the drain from lack of energy to keep touch with. At least you know how to cater your cover letters for the role and cut out unnecessary information.
Surprisingly (or perhaps not, considering your extra tasks), B&C Inc. cared more for when you were a museum security guard years passed. It is as if they just ignored other areas of experience, with how you even helped America win the space-race and get to the moon! Well… that was before Australia released government official proof of them arriving 20 years prior, shocking both participating countries. That's not even to mention the ape-space-race thing that happened recently.
God.
No matter, it looks good on your resume, though you yourself only worked on the physical organization of work. Made the lives of other, more important people easier by maybe 0.07%—hell, maybe a whole 0.1%. No touching equations or calculations for you, no sirree. You take more of a hands-off approach in such a thing. Like now.
The door to the store that your bench rests against opens. You tell first by the jingle, only seeing the man coming out moments later. Boy, is he unassuming. One look at his indiscernible face—one that does not glance back—and you quietly spit out the wet remains of your lollipop to the ground. It’s gotten too soft in your mouth. You clench your teeth one last time at the absence.
Another breeze comes by, much gentler than the last. It’s from another person passing you and turning the same corner the man did. You don’t look at them. The wind that came with them cools you off much more than expected; with this point in time, the sun has become increasingly warm. You were so caught up in finishing your chore, you didn’t even notice the change in temperature!
You adjust a strap on your dress. The outfit doesn’t feel as nice on you as before. Now, that there’s a small itch of discomfort that grows. You’re just about to fold the newspaper back up before one listing catches your eye—it was the request for a babysitter, previously crossed off. The phone number ends up stuck in your head before you even change your mind and reach for your phone. You brute force sunbathing for a couple more minutes as you finish up a conversation with the mother over your cell. The closing clack is satisfying in a way where it highlights the end of the call, meaning you won't have to worry about it later on—get it crossed off your list as soon as possible. Any other necessary information she gave you is written down on your palm.
Silence passes over you on the iron bench. You lean back, newspaper tucked under an arm.
Hmm… Now that your shift is done, maybe you'll go cool off somewhere. Isn’t that a thought, having a treat? You’re neutral on these type of shifts, being the messenger or trigger, compared to the ones where you’re stuck with only filling out sheets, but you cannot deny the indulgences that come with being let out early when you’re still out and about. Otherwise, you’d rot in your home.
You pat yourself down after getting up and turn around. Eyes roam. With such a line of stores, surely there will be a nice ice cream parlour tucked in somewhere.