They say if you smoke pot for the first time, it takes three separate occasions to get high. My first day at my first job started at 5 in the afternoon at a movie theater. I smoked pot for the first time less than an hour before I had to go to work and I wasn’t just high…I was gone.
I walked into this small suburban movie theater that was already packed full of teens, couples, and families. My legs felt weak and my eyes are half open. I’m wearing these black khaki pants, a formal button up shirt wearing a black tie that my older sister had to help me with earlier. I heard all these scattered voices in the theater and music from the arcade that I was oddly very into.
“Evan! Ready for your first day?” my manager Mr. Anders asked after he popped in front of me from nowhere that I completely flinched. I could feel my heart pounding so hard that it was making my whole chest starting to throb. I see my manager just staring at me expecting me to respond, ad I completely forgot what he said.
“Wait, what?” I asked him mumbling.
With a smile that hasn’t ceased since I saw him, he said, “Are you ready for your first day of work? You will be working at the concession stand and Steven will be teaching you. Ready?”
“Uh…yeah,” I said only thinking about how I really wanted to sit down.
“Are you alright? You don’t look so hot,” he asked me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just kind of tired,” I responded.
My manager made a small laugh and said, “Well, that’s what you get for partying too much.”
“I guess…alright well, I’ll go over to the concession stand then,” I said to him as I started heading over. I checked my phone to see the time and it’s only been three minutes since I came in. That blew my mind.
“Hi Evan. I’m Steven and I’ll start teaching you register first. You can watch me, and then I’ll give you your own register,” Steven looked like he was in his mid thirties with his hair parted to the side and a big high school class ring on his ring finger. He was a small and frail looking guy. He gave off a vibe though that he would be capable to walk in with a shotgun and wipe everyone out.
He started helping customers and I just stood to the side of him to watch. I couldn’t pay any attention to what he was showing me if my life depended on it though. I smelled the popcorn and that was all I’d continuously glance at while I was at Steven’s side. I wanted that popcorn to consume all five of my senses.
Before I knew it, Steven asked me, “Alright I think that’s it. Do you have any questions?”
I had so many questions, that I didn’t even know what to ask without coming off as I’m some dumb ass. That’s when the paranoia started setting in. I began to think everyone knew I was stoned, that I’d screw up all night, and I’d ruin my first job. So all I could say to Steven was, “No I got it.”
“Great! You’re a fast learner. You can stay on this register and I’ll go on the other. If you run into any problems let me know,” Steven offered me.
The register was a touch pad and luckily all the items were named on the screen. I think that was when I decided that got does exist.
My first customer was this typical SUV driving, manic soccer mom. She was holding her cell phone in one hand that she just snapped shut, and holding one of her three kid’s hands while her purse was sliding up and down her arm. “Okay, I’ll get three small popcorns with butter. One cherry coke, one sprite,…and Jason what do you want? Jason! I need to know!” she yelled to her kid.
“Root beer! Root beer!” He yelled back to his mom.
“One root beer and a lemonade. All the drinks are medium,” she finished.
I got her medium popcorns and small drinks for her. Also, one of the drinks I gave her was a fruit punch.
“No, no, no. These were supposed to be small and the drinks were a medium,” she said to me annoyed, “Jason! Stop pulling Emily’s hair! God dammit! You are over here and you are over here!” she yelled to her children as she put herself in between the two of them.
There was a rush that never seemed to end even though it was for only 20 minutes. I gave people the wrong change many times, wrong orders, it was just all wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself. My head was starting to hurt, my eyes were dry, and I was hungry as all hell. Just three more hours of this.
It was just Steven, this girl Ashley who had greasy hair and wore glasses that looked like they would fall off any second. Then there I was, mouth open all the time, blank stares, and keeping to myself. All the while stealing bits of popcorn from the machine. I had to ask Steven, “Can I take my fifteen minute break?”
Well, it’s kind of early, but if you want to use it now…be my guest,” explained Steven.
I just said thank you and power walked to the side door for a cigarette. I whipped out that cigarette so fast and the first puff sent chills throughout my body. It was the best feeling I had since walking into that theater…followed by the worst.
“Evan! I was just going to visit you,” It was Melissa, my girlfriend of six months running up to me. She comes up to me as I’m sitting against the outside wall. “How’s your first day going so far?” She had to ask.
Looking off at a random hill across the street I said, “Alright.”
“Evan look at me,” She ordered as her brunette hair covered one eye. “You smoked weed, didn’t you? You told me you weren’t going to try with Chris today because it would hurt me. You did it anyway!” She screamed at me.
“I didn’t,” I lied while I was taking another drag of my cigarette.
“You’re a druggie and a liar. I’m don’t date either one,” she revolted back at me. She ran off to her car the same way she was previously running up to me.
“Damn, I’m glad I had this cigarette,” I said to myself while I was watching Melissa leave the parking lot. I realized a way to get out of here while I still can; I’m going to fake sick. I head towards the manager’s office with that cigarette buzz still running through my body. I started to rehearse in my head what to say is wrong with me when I ask him if I could leave. I see my manager working on some papers on this small and cramped desk. “Hey Mr. Anders, I was wondering if I’d be able to leave early because my stomach is killing me. I thought I’d be able to handle it, but it’s just getting worse,” he stared at me for a little and I began to worry that I sounded too rehearsed. But I wasn’t lying. My stomach was killing me. I think I had the munchies. So I wasn’t a lying.
“Evan, sit down,” Mr. Anders asked of me politely. I sat down and he said to me, “Evan…I’ve gotten more then quite a few complaints about orders taken by you. I know it’s your first day but not even an hour since you started, you took a break. I just don’t feel you’re quite fit to work here. I wish you the best of luck.”
I was fired on the spot and a part of me just felt relieved to be out of there nonetheless. I walked out without saying a word or making eye contact and walked out the front door. I called my friend Chris to see what he was doing tomorrow. He said to me, “I can hang out around 12, but I have work at 5. Would you want to smoke tomorrow? I have some more pot.”
I hesitantly agreed and headed home. I could feel I was starting to sober up, which I was thankful for because I was going to be seeing my parents at home.
I just wanted to go to sleep. Though I was beginning to sober up, I started to feel worn out and worried. What was I going to tell my parents? I got fired from my first job on my first day…I had to stall with them. I’ll just wait a week and make up something up for the reason I quit.
I pulled into my driveway and walked up to my front porch. I opened my front door and walked into the family room. My dad was sitting in his lounge chair watching CNN on TV, “You’re home early. How was your first day of work?”
“It was alright. They sent me home early because it was just a small hour orientation,” I lied.
“When do you work next?” my dad followed with another question.
I said to him dead in the eyes, “Tomorrow 12 to 5.”
“That’s a nice shift,” my dad commented.
“I know,” I simply responded. |
Submission Name: 420 @ 5:00
