Working for Heat - Volume II, Page 4

arm and said, ‘Thanks Kat.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Can you do me another favour?’ William asked.

  Kathryn left the house and went straight to Ben and as he recognized her, he screamed, ‘Thief, that’s the bloody girl thief!’

  ‘Oh, get over it! Technically it wasn’t stealing. But we have bigger problems, now.’

  ‘We? Problems?’

  ‘Indeed, William refuses to wear a tie, he’s up there cutting all the ties he can find, I think he’s gone loco.’

  The little man’s expression turned grave.

  ‘The company policies!’ he cried and ran inside the house. Meanwhile, a still sleepy William coming from the side, dashed for the car and jumped into the seat. Kathryn drove off, more theatrically than necessary, but still, one can never miss the opportunity to act like a super hero, or heroine in this case. A baffled Ben, hearing the engine roaring, turned around just as he was entering the mansion, and saw Kathryn and William drive off.

  ‘Not again!’ he sighed, ‘and not wearing the tie. Oh, may the gods have mercy upon us,’ he said sombrely. ‘Who will think of the policies, who?’ He said, arms raised to the clear sky.

  William and Kathryn heard someone yelling ‘french fries.’

  ‘Will! Will?’ Kathryn was nudging him. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘Hmm, where?’

  ‘Work!’

  ‘Oh, that!’

  ‘Ring me at lunch time, I have some things to do.’ She gave him a kiss on the cheek, closed the door and drove off.

  William got into the elevator and walked to the director’s board room. On the outside, a new white leather sofa was there, still with the price tag on. He entered. Mr David was showing some charts again, very similar to the ones from the day before. So similar that William thought he was experiencing a dejá vu. He sat down.

  ‘Good morning, Sir,’ said David, and in the background mumbles of words came out from the rest of the group.

  ‘I was just finishing up. We can move towards yesterday’s new point in our agenda.’

  William nodded his head, sipped a bit of the tea he had before him and leaned his head on his hand, he was struggling very much to stay awake and he could hardly understand what David was saying. The fact is that he probably snoozed, even if for a brief moment, for when David announced the next point in the agenda, William woke up.

  ‘So, gentlemen, I want your brain–’

  ‘ZOMBIE!’ William rose and shouted.

  ‘Brainstorming ideas.’ David carried on, as if he wasn’t even interrupted. William felt embarrassed, but not as much as he was going to be in the next few seconds, for in that unmistakable Irish accent a phrase was spoken.

  ‘We should diversify. Let’s move into the carrot business too.’

  William drove his hands to his face and mumbled ,‘gods!’

  To Teach is no Peach

  It was early September when Miss Felicia Alison received the letter that would change her life. She had just finished a degree in History. It was an old dream of hers to be a history teacher and she had pursued it, always very aware that it would be a very difficult dream to achieve. Teaching history isn’t a very sought after profession, still, she decided to go forth with it, and now it was done. At least the first step anyway. The letter was from a university and, like so many that she had opened before, she wasn’t very hopeful of its content. This one, however, started very differently. Its first paragraph wasn’t an apology, followed by some excuses like ‘we aren’t hiring right now’ and finishing brilliantly with ‘we will keep you on our system’. She was always afraid of what that meant, probably a job market blacklist. None of her friends, especially the older ones, that had ever received that very special sentence, ever got a job in that area. Yes, this letter was different it just said:

  Dear Professor Felicia Alison,

  You start teaching next Wednesday.

  Regards,

  The University Chancellor

  It was finished with a very indistinguishable signature. She thought she would be over the rainbow about her first job offer, but the truth was, she was very apprehensive. First because of that weird letter, second because she didn’t recall sending any curriculum there, and third she couldn’t find anything online about that particular university. It wasn’t on the public schools list, so it meant it had to be a private one. She decided to go anyway. After all, how bad could it be?

  It was the ‘next Wednesday’ and the little red-haired Felicia drove off to campus very early, luckily she didn’t throw away the envelope, otherwise it would have been a very difficult task, finding that university. Ahe was wearing her best dress, very simple yet formal, which made her look very pretty but still very professional. Also she decided to put her mother’s pearl earrings on, for good luck.

  As soon as she got there, she was delighted. Students and teachers were arriving on bicycles. There was also a huge, well-kept garden with several types of roses. Her nervous state gave way to a happier one as she entered the main building. There she was, in a big hall full of televisions on the walls and all of them showing ,‘The best University. Join us now’ in a horrible red font, waiting to be seen by the receptionist. Finally it was her turn. The receptionist was a young girl, about the same age as her, but a bit more plump, and with a very grave cigarette burnt voice she said,

  ‘Hello dear.’

  Felicia was caught off guard, it was as if her late grandmother had possessed a young girl and was speaking to her.

  ‘Err… Hello there. I got a letter saying I started working here today.’

  ‘Ah, name please.’

  ‘Felicia Alison. Just one L.’

  The receptionist put her reading glasses on and started looking at a list. ‘There you are.’ She pointed.

  Felicia smiled, ‘yes, here I am.’

  ‘No, no dear, here.’ The receptionist showed her the list.

  She forced herself to smile again, as a shiver crept down her spine. It was like talking to her grandmother.

  ‘What do I do now?’

  ‘You have to report to the Chancellor. He will instruct you, fifth floor, last door on the left.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Not a problem dear,’ she coughed heavily, ‘good luck, dear.’

  After that spooky encounter, she was now entering the chancellor’s office. The chancellor was smaller than Felicia, which is the same as saying, he can’t ride any rollercoaster, at least, not legally. He was wearing an all-white suit and his desk was impeccably clean and tidy. The desk had only a fish bowl with a betta fish in it, a world map and a name plate, ‘A. Yamamoto.’

  ‘Hello, I’m so happy you’ve decided to come work with us.’

  She was expecting a very thick Japanese accent from him, but his English was perfect, probably even better that hers.

  ‘Hello, Chancellor. I too am happy to have the opportunity to work at this…’ she paused ever so slightly, ‘unique university, sir.’

  He stood up, which strangely, made him look even shorter. He moved next to her and said, ‘Let me show you around.’

  After several long minutes of introducing several boring professors, and by boring I mean people who have to talk about everything they have ever done, every prize they’ve won, including those that most people would be ashamed of showing, something like ‘Everybody Gets a Trophy Even if You Finished the Day Afterwards Race’ kind of prize. But they moved on and Yamamoto was about to show her the university’s library. As they were opening the glass door, a young man in black clothes was screaming ‘Vive la résistance’ and being dragged by two very tall and skinny, blonde (and very annoyed) librarians.

  ‘We do this every-day, why can’t you understand?’ said one of the librarians.

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ replied the young man, furious, shaking his clothes either for more dramatic effect or to get rid of imaginary wrinkles. Yamamoto turned to Felicia ‘Of course, there is always a black sheep.’ He smiled shyly.
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  ‘I’m no black sheep, although, the irony is noted,’ he looked at his clothes ‘your nincompoop employees and their fascist library rules are the true black sheep.’ He interrupted his speech and looked at Felicia. ‘New teacher, hun? A little advice: run away!’

  ‘Run away?’

  ‘SILENCE!’ one of the librarians shouted at him.

  ‘I’m sorry about Mr Gilbert, he has Turret’s, and Mr James Edwards here,’ pointing to the young man, ‘is overreacting. Come Miss Alison; let me show you your office.’

  ‘I have my own office?’ she was surprised.

  ‘SILENCE!’

  ‘C’mon Gilbert, give us a break.’

  ‘SILENCE… SILENCE!’ jolting as he spoke.

  ‘Goodbye Gilbert, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, madam. Your own office at the expense of your soul. Run away, don’t sign the contract, don’t be a fool.’ James took out a greyish old pocket watch and looking rather alarmed said, ‘Oh, I’m late, I’m very late indeed.’ And he ran away, literally.

  ‘Don’t mind his nonsenses Miss Felicia, let’s go and see your offi-’ Mr Yamamoto didn’t finish his sentence, for Felicia decided to go into the library. The chancellor went after her, but she had already seen the chaos that had been installed. Above every computer, words in black ‘Vive la résistance’ were stenciled over the library rules, and in every computer’s search engine there had been entered inquiries like ‘dumbass librarians’ and ‘okay to look up porn but horribly wrong to work on a thesis’.

  ‘Let the students work?’ she read aloud from one of the computer’s