Enter The Wrecks
Another dreaded Monday morning has arrived. The roads are congested
with traffic. Sidewalks are pounded by the military footfall of the dole-eyed adults and their bedraggled offspring. Whimsical DJs banter inanely on their breakfast shows whilst early birds line the overhead wires twittering unchained-menagerie melodies.
The previous night’s storm has ceased but a southerly chill lingers as Tommy Wrecks hastens down Fernmore Avenue; his black and silver backpack dances to the tune of his flat footed pacing. He checks his watch and sees that the unexpected delays have cost him dearly. Tardiness is a bad start to a promising new career. Unassuming as it is.
Tommy is no stranger to the HandelVic Café. He has been going there since he was knee high to a grasshopper. He knows the most of the staff and is on first name basis with the owner, Victoria Handel, but he feels such familiarity will cease once he becomes an employee.
When he was a lot younger she would sometimes mind him whilst Sandra went shopping. It was then that he had first encountered the wrath that lay concealed beneath her gentle exterior. An ex-employee had once likened her temperament to a blue bird of happiness, metamorphosing into a raging bull that charges full speed over the thin line of insanity.
Dire strait’s “Romeo and Juliet” flows from the HandelVic’s sound system as Tommy enters the café. He glances over at the grandfather clock hoping that his watch is fast, but there is no mistake. Both timepieces are in sync. He sighs despondently and walks over to the counter where an anorexic teenager, dressed entirely in black, flashes him a welcoming smile. Tommy hands him his card.
“So you’re the new help then, huh?” affirms the teenager. He looks Tommy up and down then smiles and hands back the card "I’ll get Veronica, she’s been expecting you.”
Tommy takes a seat on one of the stools by the counter as the anorexic teenager minces off in search of Veronica. Two lanky gentlemen argue the pros and cons of Fermat’s last theorem at the table directly opposite him.
Behind the learned duo sits a young woman with long red hair and a stud in her nose. She is quietly reading ‘To Kill a Mocking Bird’. Every now and then she jots something in a notebook.
At the table nearest far end of the café, a group of sugar-hyped college truants hold an excitable chocolate milkshake meeting on the latest Harry Potter movie.
“Morning Master Dilly Dally.”
Tommy stares sheepishly over at Veronica as she emerges from the passageway behind the counter with a tray full of steaming pastries to die for.
“Don’t worry Tom. The dragon’s not here yet so with any luck she’ll be none the wiser about your late arrival. You’d best join the others in the messy room. We’re meant to be having a team brief. Lucas and I can’t make it. Show must go on, as they say.”
Tommy doesn’t need directions. Victoria would often make him clean the Messroom if he transgressed. It proved to be a formidable punishment at the time, but his attitude toward domestic chores has matured from the various cleaning agencies he has been employed with. He feels such punishment would now prove ineffective.
Three white tables have been pushed together to make one big table and eight employees have gathered around it. Tommy removes his backpack and places it in the far corner of the Messroom then slumps upon an empty chair. Four faces smile congenially, the others regard him inquisitively.
“There you go Tommy, milk with two sugars. Just the way you like it.” says Kristen, handing him a steaming mug of Milo. “This is a one-off welcome cup. No frills, refills, or repeats.”
Tommy nods appreciatively and takes a tentative sip.
“How come I never got no welcome cup when I joined this dump?” grumbles Sebastian.
“What’s the matter Sebastian, jealous or something?” taunts Yak.
“No! I wouldn’t want one from her anyway. It’d probably be cold.” Pouts Sebastian.
“That’s the temperature they say vengeance is best served ” Declares Kristen sinisterly.
“Idle threats don’t become you.” retorts Sebastian.
“Well you’d know all about being idle than I would.”
“Yeah right!”
“Another Monday morning lover’s quarrel.” Mumbles Vincent “They do get tiresome.”
“No-one asked for your opinion!” growls Kristin, palm-swatting the back of his head.
Vincent cringes for a couple of seconds then shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention to the morning newspaper.
Tension fills the room. Tommy ’s unsure of where to put his eyes.
“Sorry,” Kristin manages at last. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Don’t sweat it. Monday’s can make us all a little edgy at times.” Condones Vincent.
Tension eases as Kristin shakes Vincent’s hand then turns to Sebastian and does the same.
“HandelVic Peace-Pipe friendly” muses Yak.
Conversation turns to the previous Saturday’s rugby match. The bias-ref is blamed for the unpredicted loss. Yak seems to know the name of every player in both teams including some of the reserves. Victor struggles to name any. Tommy was out at the time but probably would not have bothered watching it anyway. He is not an avid rugby fan and only ever watches the odd International Test Match.
A hush falls over the group as Victoria enters the room. She exchanges feigned pleasantries with her staff then officially welcomes Tommy before kick-starting the meeting. She speaks of new strategies and empty promises of technological improvements to the cafeteria. There is talk of health and safety issues and the possibility of another first aid refresher course.
Victoria’s words go in one ear and out the other. Tommy scans his surroundings and finds the Messroom has changed very little over the past three years. The dartboard still hangs on the far-left wall above the framed photo of the original 1975 HandelVic Café staff.
A conglomeration of newspaper, magazine articles and seldom-read circulars are pinned to the notice board and the hole in the far-right corner of the room is still in need of repair. He knows who caused it and why but he is sworn to secrecy. Disloyalty is not part of his nature.
Tommy wonders if Kristin and Sebastian’s relationship is more than just platonic as Victor had implied. His pupils shift toward them. They are sitting close together. Perhaps they are holding hands beneath the table. He cannot tell. He doesn’t know. He does not want to know. He doesn’t really care.
By the time the team brief finally draws to a close Tommy is almost asleep. He rubs his eyes and follows his fellow subordinates to begin his eight hours of cafeteria servitude. Victoria shows him to the locker room where he is allocated a metal locker. It is the first time he has ever been allowed in there. He feels let down by a bland anticlimax.
She presents him with the bib-overalls his predecessor left behind. Being vertically challenged, oversize hand-me-downs are nothing new to him. He makes a few alterations and keenly awaits his first assignment, which places him in the familiar company of Yak.
Yak, like his nick name suggests, can talk the legs of a donkey and always has a tall tale to tell about whatever subject that is being discussed at the time. According to Yak, Yak’s been to every country in the world, met nearly every dignitary, excelled in a wide range of sports and done every job under the sun. The one thing he prides himself above all else is his humility, the one virtue that has apparently saved him from being the exploited by the media.
The frigid air chills Tommy once again as Yak opens the backdoor of the café and leads him along the cobblestone pathway to a dilapidated garden shed.
“Shadow of its former glory, aye Tomas?” sympathises Yak, giving Tommy a friendly pat on the back. “I’ve lost count of the times I’ve asked Vicky for some paint and materials to restore it but she doesn’t seem interested.”
Tommy draws a heavy sigh. Seven and a half years prior he had been Yak’s number one helping-hand during the shed’s construction. Under Yaks patiently receptive instruction he had learned to drive a nail into timber without bending it, mix and lay concrete and accurately use a tape measure. His only regret was that his stepfather had never lived to see its completion.
“Okay buddy, our assignment is operation tidy up. Vicky has been storing things in there since Adam was a boy. Most of it is pure junk but as usual sentimentality has stayed her better judgement. What she wants us to do is take everything out of the shed and sort it into various categories.”
Sorting out the shed proves to be a laborious chore but Yak keeps Tommy’s mind from focusing too much on the negative with more of his erroneous overseas adventures and before he knows it they are heading back to the café for morning tea.
Yak suddenly stops in mid stride and slaps himself in the forehead. He curses out loud then turns to Tommy.
“Do us a favour will you. Grab those two rubbish bags we just filled and toss them in the skip, and please be quick about it. Binmin due here any minute.”
Tommy hastens back to the shed and grabs the bags. He only just makes it back to the skip in time to hear a high pitched beeping and the sounds of crunching gravel. Seconds later the M.T.Binmin truck comes into view.
As it is lining up with the skip he suddenly spots a bulky green rubbish bag sitting to the left of the doorway, which has somehow escaped his attention till now. He diligently hurls it in the skip, which is picked and dumped in the back of the truck by a hydraulic-hoist. The driver honks his horns and waves cheerfully before leaving the same way he came in.
* * *
Morning tea is well over. Yak has been asked to make a delivery to a disabled client so Vincent takes over. Vincent seems to relish authority and Tommy soon finds himself at the hands of an over zealous slave driver whose own work ethics is a far cry from Yak’s. Seated upon his workbench throne he rambles on about cafeteria-politics and makes no secret of his resentment of Vincent’s hypocrisy while Tommy struggles to shift a metal cabinet.
“Watch the vases, Tomboy” warns Vincent, pointing to the vases to the shelves to left of Tommy. “Break any of those and she’ll boot your scrawny little a*s from here to Kingdom-come.”
Tommy soon tires of Vincent’s monotonous verbiage. Time slows down and his contempt for the task increases in magnitude. He wants to hit Vincent but knows it will most likely cost him his job.
Vincent suddenly slides from the table and grabs a couple of boxes from the shelf.
“Hard at work I see,” says Victoria making an unexpected visit. She gives the shed’s interior a quick inspection then turns to her two subordinates.
“The place looks better already. Kudos to you both.” She smiles favourably at them then adds: “Oh by the way, have either of you seen the laundry bag? Kristin reckons she put it out but Trudy can’t find it anywhere. Nor can I.”
After much prompting Tommy recalls the green rubbish bag he threw on the skip before morning tea. When he owns up to his unintentional transgression Victoria is far from amused.
Tommy stares down at his Adidas running shoes to avoid her scowl as she delivers a cantankerous scolding. She snatches his upper arm and marches out of the shed. Clouds have almost completely obscured the sun again and rain looks likely. He struggles to free himself but her grip tightens. Dagger-like fingernails piece his skin.
Victoria hastens him back inside the cafeteria and down the passageway, past the smoko room. She comes to a halt outside a green colored door that he has not noticed till now. There is a small metal sign upon it reading: “HandelVic Redemption.”
She opens the door and ushers him inside a dimly lit storeroom. The door slams behind him. Footsteps recede He turns and frantically twists at the knob but discovers that he has been locked in. There is no key to be found.
He paces back and forward like a caged animal, intermittently kicking and pounding at the door but soon has no other option than to accept the reality of his incarceration. Tears fill his eyes as he slumps down upon a cardboard box and buries his head in his hands.
This could very well prove be Tommy’s shortest job ever.
To be continued…
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