The Trouble Way Read online

  With Linda, it was fine art. She had watched Ann for several weeks before she took her into her confidence. Since they worked opposite shifts, the Deli sales had to appear relatively constant. It wouldn’t do for Ann to have significantly higher sales than Linda. It was good for them both. Not so much for The Man.

  “Fuck-em,” Linda had said when she finally got around to approaching Ann. “The manager is pulling in thirty, forty-thousand a year. We get a buck and a quarter and when they give out raises, they make a nickel or dime sound like you’re getting a ten hour lay. If I want to get laid, I’ll get some cowboy at the White Shutters to bump fuzzies with me.”

  “Did you see that jerk-off Hedd’s face when I gave him that big smile when he handed me that gift certificate,” Ann said. “I thought he’d come in his boxers. I flushed the worthless scrap of paper down the can.”

  The Deli counter was a perfect place for a skimming operation. It would not work at the front registers where supervisors hovered about. Moreover, it would not work in the high-end merchandise departments such as Appliances, where people most certainly demand a receipt. It was a lot easier to keep track of a TV than a perishable submarine sandwich. Old sandwiches had to be tossed at the end of the day. Who’s to say if it was sold or tossed?

  Ann was authorized to run promotions on her sandwiches, popcorn, and frozen drinks to draw customers and increase sales. She would purposely set special prices to be close to exact dollar amounts so it would be likely customers would pay with the exact change, or, if it totaled an odd amount, she’d say she would take care of the tax from the slush cup near the register.

  Twice, Ann had turned down promotions. Once to the Appliance department and the second to Jewelry.

  On the second occasion, she sat erect in the straight back chair across from Mr. Hedd in the manager’s office averting her eyes as she listened quietly to his offer of promotion. On two occasions, she noticed he had looked directly at her breasts. She had purposely left her top two buttons on her tight sweater undone. When he had finished, she smiled.

  “I just love working with my customers,” she said of the old men and bitchy women who treated her like a day laborer. “I would feel as if I were deserting them. Thank you so much for the offer, but I’d much rather build the business in the Deli department,” and put her hand out to shake his. “I’m so embarrassed. Being in the Deli is almost like home to me.”

  “For heaven’s sake, don’t be embarrassed. It is so difficult to get good quality, dedicated employees such as yourself. I only wish we had more employees like you and Linda,” Mr. Hedd said. “Your efforts along with those of Linda have caused the sales in the Deli department to soar. I can’t tell you how much we at Big Richards appreciate your contributions to the store’s profits. I almost regret promoting Linda to the Jewelry Department.” Mr. Hedd rose to put out his hand in congratulating her on her decision to remain in the deli department. “Ann, stop by the personnel office and pick up a new smock. There is an ink stain on your pocket. I’ll tell Mrs. Brinks to let you have an extra one at no charge.”

  Ann got up to leave and when her back was turned, she couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes.

  When Ann sat at her kitchen table and looked at the small spiral notebook where she kept tally of her take, she was mildly surprised. She had skimmed nearly five-hundred dollars from the store since joining Linda’s skimming operation.

  She had been awarded employee of the month for August, the second time, for making the Deli department number one in sales in the entire district. That didn’t do anything for her income, Mr. Hedd never gave merit raises. The increased Deli sales meant extra “tips” she could sock away. She had finally been able to put a down payment on a used, robin-egg blue, VW Super Beetle.

  Linda had been awarded Employee of the Month twice that year also before she had moved to Jewelry. She took home nearly an identical as Ann. She had since been working on a scheme to reap some extra benefits from the Jewelry department.

  “This calls for a celebration,” Ann said to Linda at the end of the shift as they walked out the doors of Big Richards.

  “That sounds super,” Linda said and they headed over to the Triangle Tavern.

  When Ann drove her new VW to her favorite parking space at the far edge of the parking lot she saw that there was a gold colored beater Bug with black primer spots on it already taking up the space. She watched as a tall red headed guy got out of the VW and walk toward the store.

  Well, Gorgeous. Who the hell are you?

  She had parked in the same spot in the employee area for quite some time since that shopping cart dented the driver’s side door just after she had purchased her car. She was not pleased by the audacity of someone else taking her spot, gorgeous or not. Although Big Richards was not unionized, there was such a thing as implied seniority and that rule was fundamentally being ignored. She particularly liked the spot because it was near a light pole and the blacktop sloped away on both sides of the spot. Run-away shopping carts tended to roll away from her car instead of toward it. Her car had been dinged on several occasions in the past until she found the gold standard of spots and claimed it as her own.

  She had approached Mr. Hedd about the damage done to her car by a rogue cart that she witnessed careening down the slope of the parking lot coming to rest against her car. It caused a severe dent in the driver’s side door of her almost-new VW. It was that incident that caused her to look for a better place to park. The cart incident happened just after closing time and she scurried back to the store to talk to Mr. Hedd. She caught him as he was locking the front door.

  “I’m sorry, Ann,” Mr. Hedd said, cutting her short after she began giving an explanation of her plight. “As much as it pains me to say it, Big Richards is not responsible for damage to an employee’s vehicle. You take implicit responsibility for any damage when you sign on as an employee. It is one of the hazards of working here. Now, if you were a customer … that, my dear, would be an entirely different story. Big Richards would be happy to cover the cost of any and all damage. Kinda funny in a way, don’t you think? Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Mr. Hedd said and left Ann speechless, standing on the sidewalk as he walked to his car. She stood, unable to move, as she watched him cross the lot to his car and began his habitual circling of the building after closing. When his taillights disappeared around the end of the building, on impulse, Ann pulled a pencil from her smock pocket and jammed it firmly into the entrance door lock and broke it off, then stalked across the parking lot to her car.

  Well, Mr. Dick Head, you’re going to think “kinda funny.” I am not one to be taken lightly and will figure out something. I am not finished with Big Dicks yet.

  Several days after the shopping cart incident and with the knowledge that Big Richards did not intend to foot the bill for the dent in her door, Ann drove to the Big Richards in the town of Everett, thirty miles north of Seattle, and, as a distraught customer, filled out an accident report. When she came to the spot on the report for her to list employment, she wrote “student.”

  When she got the okay from the insurance company to take her car to the body shop, Big Richards even supplied her with a rental car, all at no cost to one of their valued customers.

  “Do I need to get insurance on this rental?” Ann asked when the clerk handed her the key.

  “Nah, Big Richards takes care of that.”

  “So, if someone backs into my rental in some parking lot, I don’t have to pay for it?” She said.

  “Nope, it’s on Big Richards.”

  The damaged door was repaired before the week ended. When Ann drove the courtesy car back to the body shop, the clerk noted there was scratch along the entire passenger side.

  “Looks like someone keyed your car,” the technician said, running his finger tip over the length of the scratch. “Not to worry, sweetie, Big Richards opted out of signing on for insurance. Said they’re self-insured.”

  “The irony of it all is,” th
e repairman said, “Big Richards will fork over the three-hundred for the shopping cart damage on your car plus the rental car fee of one-fifty-five. The kicker, sweetheart, if the repair on that rental doesn’t top a grand, I’ll bet it’ll be damn close. That’s no key damage, too deep,” he said, looking at the scratch closely. “It looks more like someone deliberately took a wicked church key to it.”

  “I can’t imagine, for the life of me, anyone being so sick as to do something as horrible as that,” Ann said. “Unless they had something against Big Richards.”

  Mr. Hedd, I hope you don’t think you are dealing with people who have the IQ of a geoduck. It may be in your best interest to alter your view of those people who you think are working for you but are actually looking out for number one. You will have a bit more than you can handle if they decide not to be your friend. Be especially kind the employees who have a church key on their key ring or a pencil in their smock.

  Ann became distracted making a submarine sandwich by what she saw and squirted a dollop of Mayo, missing the bun and dripping down the front of her smock.

  Oooooh, my goodness, Gorgeous, my parking space thief.

  She looked at the redheaded man next to Ms. Becky, then at the errant mayo and gave a solitary burst of laughter.

  “Ann, I’d like you to meet Mr. Forest.” Ms. Becky had a new management trainee in her clutches and was leading him around the store, introducing him to the employees.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Ann said, pulling off her plastic gloves and extending her hand.

  “It’s my pleasure. Call me Jake. You do realize you have some mayo on your smock, don’t you?” Jake gestured toward her smock and pulled out a small pad and searched for a pen.

  She looked down and giggled and hurriedly wiped the mayo away.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a pen, would you Ann? I’m believe I am about to meet many more people than I can possibly remember. I think I’d better take notes.”

  “Ann, you are aware that management is referred to as Mr. So and So,” Ms. Becky said as much for Jake as for Ann’s benefit.

  Ann quickly reached into her smock pocket and pulled out a pencil and handed it to Jake.

  He started to make a note and then looked at the pencil. “I’m afraid this won’t do. I think it’s seen better days.” Jake held up the pencil with the mangled end. “Looks like a goat chewed off the business end.”

  She snatched the broken pencil from Jake’s hand and produced another. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had a chance to sharpen it. Try this one.”

  Jake looked at Ann, held up the new pencil to her and gave her a wink, bent close, and said, “They don’t make pencils like they used to.”

  “No, they do not,” Ann said, and gave a smile.

  Before Ann had a chance to speak further, Ms. Becky bent forward. “Ann, you know the policy on modest dress.” Ms. Becky touched the top button on her own blouse and raised her eyebrows.

  Soon, Mr. Forest’s elbow was securely clamped in Ms. Becky’s claws and was being led quickly off to another department. To Ann, Ms. Becky, whose only redeeming attribute were enormous knockers, one of which now warming Jake’s forearm, fancied herself a catch. Word on the street was that Ms. Becky’s home life was not all that satisfying. Linda had confided to her that Ms. Becky’s husband, and possibly she, occasionally strayed. It was sad to see her struggling to find some happiness that had left her in the dust.

  “I think it’s sadder still,” Linda said as they prepared a supply of submarines, “because those who watch can see Ms. Becky obviously perceives a much younger woman in the mirror than the one reflected back. It’s sad to watch her try to snare men half her age.”

  “Actually, she’s not bad if she’d act her age and cut the volume on the make-up,” Ann said. “I can hear her coming three aisles away.”

  “Well, there is also the matter of that creature living on her head,” Linda said. They both had a good giggled over that.

  Ann dutifully buttoned her smock and as she looked up from staring at Mr. Forest’s hind-end, she felt her cheeks redden when he turned and caught her in the act. Ann straightened her shoulders, popping her buttons back open and gave him another one of her winks. You’ll do just fine, Mr. Call Me Jake. You’re a dream.

  With his elbow firmly in the grip of Ms. Becky’s polished, purple talons, he glided past the danger that was Ann and near an equal danger that was Linda.

  “Linda, I’d like to introduce our new Assistant Manager Trainee, Mr. Jake Forest,” Ms. Becky said.

  Linda glanced at Ann, then back up to Jake’s blue eyes. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Forest.” She caught several wayward strands of shiny black hair and flawlessly flipped them behind her left ear. “If you ever need anything, please let me know.” She put a slim, perfectly manicured hand out to him.

  “Call me Jak—, sorry, can’t say that … Mr. Forest, Linda.”

  Ann watched as Linda fixed her large brown eyes on Jake’s and he gently squeezed her delicate hand and lingered until Ann saw his eyebrows contort. Purple talons apparently tightened on his elbow and he released Linda’s hand.

  Jake glanced back at Ann, then at Linda and made a note on his pad as Ms. Becky herded him away from what she obviously considered was some pretty stiff competition.

  Ann and Linda sat at a table a few rows from the dance floor, both with their customary screwdriver. White Shutters was a popular hangout for the twenty-somethings and had a live band on the weekends. The action rarely picked up until after the start of the second set around ten.

  “Let’s take a little walk,” Linda said as she put her hand on Ann’s forearm and gave it a squeeze. Take your purse, but leave your scarf over the back of the chair. We don’t want to lose the table.”

  “Good idea, Ann said and picked up her Marlboros from the table and tucked them in her purse. They each took a napkin and placed it over their drink and tilted their chairs into the table, the universal symbol for “Occupied table, Will return.” Donning their jackets, Linda led the way, coursing her way through the crowded lounge and headed toward the exit with Ann on her heels.

  “We’ll be back in a sec,” she told the bouncer.

  “I’ll have to stamp your hand if you want back in,” he said and reached for Linda’s hand.”

  “Not on the back,” she said, and turned her palm up. She and Ann did not like the black ink discoloring their hand; it was not attractive.

  Linda had driven her car and parked in a dimly lit area of the parking lot. Ann got in on the passenger side. With a quick look-see around the car, Linda reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out a small baggie, a joint, a roach clip, and a book of matches. She handed the joint and matches to Ann. “Be my guest, Hon.”

  Ann ran the joint beneath her nose, like one sees old men doing with a fine cigar. “Hmmmm, nice,” Ann said and pulled a match from the book and struck the match. A flame shot up from the twisted paper and she pulled the joint away till the flame died then took a pleasant hit, palming the joint back to Linda. “That’s pretty fuckin’ fine stuff, Honey.”

  Linda held the joint low in her lap and glanced around the car. Satisfied there wasn’t anybody near, she took a toke and held her breath as she cracked the window a bit and passed it back to Ann. “This is some potent Hawaiian pot, Hon,” Linda said. “You won’t need much. Maybe one or two hits.”

  “Suits me,” Ann said, “I can feel it already.” She took one last turn and gave the joint to Linda who took a final puff and snuffed the roach. She put it back into the baggie along with the matches and clip and concealed it under the seat.

  When the bouncer checked their stamps, Ann tripped over Linda’s heel and they both started to giggle, holding each other’s arms as they wove their way back to the table. Their drinks were still covered with napkins, unmolested.

  “I am going to use the little girl’s room,” Ann said and she got up. Linda got up and followed her past the bar to the hallway.

&
nbsp; “Hey, aren’t you the Big Richards’ gals?” There were several men at the bar and Ann looked over into the face of Cowboy Jesse.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Seahawk,” Ann said.

  Linda gave Jesse a smile and continued to the ladies room.

  “Right as Seattle rain,” he said.

  “Or did you give up on the Seahawks? I see you have your Cowboy hat on.”

  “Awh, you can’t count on them. I think they’re a bit too inexperienced yet. I guess I’m a cowboy tonight,” Jesse said. “I don’t believe I know your name.”

  “My name is Ann,” she said, extending a hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ann. I’m Jesse Martin. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Well, you can in a minute? I have to see a woman about a kitty. I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Ann caught Jesse’s eye as the two emerge from the restroom. Linda led the way and paused long enough for Ann to introduce her to Jesse then strolled to the table.

  “Are you ready for that drink now?”

  “I have a drink at the table, but you’re welcome to join us if you like.” Ann motioned toward where Linda was seated.

  “Sure, why not,” Jesse said and slid from the barstool and followed her.

  “Cowboy Jesse is going to join us,” Ann said to Linda who was chair dancing to the tune on the jukebox.

  The band returned, cut power to the jukebox in mid-tune, and began playing rock-and-roll, a Buddy Holly tune. Jesse put out his hand to Ann. They walked to the dance floor and did a swing dance. When they returned, Dwight was sitting beside Linda at the table.

  “Hi Dwight. Jesse, this is Dwight. He works at Big Richards too.” Ann said as Dwight stood and the men nodded and shook hands, both saying, “Glad to meet you,” simultaneously.

  When the band was ready for its second break, Ann leaned into Jesse and whispered, “Do cowboys smoke pot?”

  “I think a few have been known to partake,” he said.