DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR
Chapter 4
by Donny Mumford
Monday my alarm goes off at six-thirty. That's earlier than I ever got up for summer jobs in past years but this is the first summer I'll be using public transportation. Even though I showered last night I'll take another one as a trial-run to see how long it takes on a normal morning to get ready for work. Brushing my teeth after the shower I'm looking at myself in the mirror over the sink and thinking how this haircut from Robby makes me look younger, which may or may not work to my advantage on the job. Or, another way for me to look at it is I'm merely a summer employee hired to do a one-time job so it's likely no one will give a shit one way or the other about my friggin' haircut.
I'm anxious to find out what it is I'll be doing at work when I get there. I know it's an office job in any case, so I'm moving on up from my former laborer status. Dressed in pressed khakis, white dress-shirt and tie, I check my watch and see it's five-minutes-after-seven. Huh, getting ready took longer than I expected. When Rob was driving me to and from work it didn't matter if it took me five minutes longer because he'd wait for me... the bus won't. On my way to the kitchen I'm looking at the bus schedule. Some idiot must have worked overtime making this damn schedule-chart as complicated as possible!
After dropping a K-cup of Dunkin' Donuts Breakfast Brew into the Keurig coffee-maker, I go to get medium cream from the refrigerator and see a note from Mom taped to the door. Aww, she probably thinks I'm a little nervous about my first day at a new job, and I am. In past years I knew what to expect on the lawn-cutting crew and I knew at least some of my coworkers. Plus, my boss was Rob so that was a nice security blanket but now I'm totally on my own and probably won't even see Rob at work. I'd have thought my experiences in Georgia the first half of last summer would prepare me for almost anything, but I guess not because I'm still nervous. And, oh fuck, thinking about Georgia makes me think of Ryan. Yeah I kinda miss him although he apparently doesn't miss me. It's been over four months since he left and not even a text message from him. I texted him but got no reply. Can't dwell on that though, I've got other things I need to be thinking about right now.
Mom's note reads, 'Good luck on your first day, Sweetheart. You'll be terrific! I made lunch for you last night. It's behind the milk." Well isn't that nice of Mom! I move the bottles of milk and take out the plastic bag of lunch. As much as I teased Pony about taking his backpack everywhere, I'll be doing that on work days. It's a good place to carry my lunch. Also I've put my laptop and a rain slicker with a hood in the backpack to be prepared for rainy days waiting for the bus or walking the quarter-mile from the bus stop to the office in the rain. Also in the backpack is an extra pack of cigarettes and the latest book I'm reading, as well as some ballpoint pens and breath mints. The book's in there for the likely event I'll be eating lunch alone. It's good to have something to read when eating alone so I don't feel as conspicuous. People will think... oh, the new guy likes to read during his lunch break. Ya know, it's like I could eat lunch with friends here at work but I prefer reading, assuming I had any friends there which I don't. Of course a newspaper would work as well as the book.
Looking through the plastic bag of lunch I see there's two chicken salad sandwiches along with an Honey Crisp apple, a small bag of Lay's potato chips, and a big-ass chocolate-chip cookie. Huh, good lunch! I hope there's a refrigerator in the department I'm working in. After sticking a large Snapple in the backpack I write a note for Mom, 'Thanks for the lunch, Mom! Love ya!' and tape it to the refrigerator door for when she gets up.
I'm too nervous to eat anything so I skip breakfast except for a mug of coffee that I drink sitting at the kitchen bar once again verifying that I've correctly deciphered the bus schedule. There's columns of tiny numbers indicating times that certain buses will be at various stops depending the bus line and day of the week. Jesus! If I'm reading this correctly a bus arrives at the condo bus stop at seven-twenty and then every forty-minutes after that; or is it every twenty-minutes? The bus ride to the stop I'll get off at for work takes eighteen to twenty-minutes, if it's on time. Huh, that means the seven-twenty bus will get me to the work bus stop about seven-forty and then it's a quarter-mile walk to the office. So how long will it take me to walk a quarter mile? Balls, I should have figured all this out before this morning. I had every intention of doing that but kept putting it off. Okay, I'll simply Google how long it takes to walk a quarter mile. And of course the answer pops right up in .010 seconds. It's says an average-size man will take 555 steps in a quarter mile which equates to about a five-minute walk. Only five-minutes!
Work begins at eight-thirty so if I get the seven-twenty I should be at the office twenty-five minutes later, assuming everything is on schedule and I don't sprain an ankle or break a leg during the quarter-mile walk. Yeah, but that puts me in the office forty-five minutes before work starts. Balls to that! The next bus comes, let me see. Yes, it is forty-minutes later, meaning I'd barely make it to the office by eight-thirty. The bus before that one is an express that goes by my bus stop but won't stop there. Idiotic! It appears the fickle finger of fate has conspired to fuck me up bus-schedule-wise. It's like a conspiracy to fuck with my head. Should I get to work forty-five minutes early or have a heart-pounding experience every morning just barely getting to work by eight-thirty? Dammit, I guess I need to take the seven-twenty bus. Yeah, except that's what time it is right now! I run over to the window and watch for a few seconds and sure enough there goes the fucking bus on Center Street below our condos. Balls!
Tapping my finger on the windowsill and nodding my head, I'm thinking, 'Nice, really nice first day on the job, Dylan!' Sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar again I sip on my coffee feeling like an ass. Rob would never be in this kind of predicament. He'd have figured this shit out four days ago. Well, all is not lost. The five-after-eight bus gets me to my work bus stop around eight-twenty-five and if I run from the bus stop I'll be at work on time with one or two minutes to spare. Of course I'll be dripping with sweat after running my ass of for a quarter-mile.
To double-check, I go through my backpack again to make sure I have everything I'll need, and then think: my wallet! Jesus, I was going to leave the house without money. That'd be just great, getting on the bus and telling the bus driver, 'Oh I forgot to bring money'. After getting my wallet I take an antacid tablet to sooth my upset stomach and then mostly just stare at my watch until it's time to leave the house. Wait a second! Where the hell's my cellphone? Going through my backpack I find it exactly where I put it fifteen minutes ago. It's in the pocket of the backpack for that specific purpose. Leaving for the bus stop ten-minutes early I figure why take any chance of missing the bus.
I'm the only one here so I sit on the bench and then get right up and light a cigarette feeling nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Not a new metaphor but it always make me grin picturing that scenario. Oh balls here comes someone. Well, did I expect to be the only one on the bus? Goddammit I hope no one is the cheery-good-morning type. Chit-chatting small-talk with strangers is not my thing. If Chub were here he would have total strangers on a first name basis and laughing within two minutes. I walk away from the bench a couple of feet to discourage any possible conversation. A quick glance at the man approaching the bus stop reveals a middle aged man with a mustache and an expression on his face like he got up on the wrong side of the bed. Why would getting up on the wrong side of the bed be a problem though? Fifty-feet behind mustache-man is a fat-ass lady talking loudly on her cellphone. How'd anyone make it through the day before cellphones?
The mustache-man sits on the bench giving me a nasty look. Is it my cigarette? Looking around and oh balls, there's a prominent NO SMOKING sign on the pole with the bus line's logo. Walking away another ten steps I turn my back to the bus stop thinking nasty thoughts about mustache-man. The fat-ass lady walks a couple of steps past the bus stop bench still shrilly talking on her cellphone. From the other direction another lady is walking towards us. She could be a homeless person if the raggedy-ass clothes she's wearing is any indication. Oh fuck, she walks by me closer than necessary muttering curse words under her breath and leaving a bad body-odor scent in her wake. I puff on the cigarette walking a few more feet away. This is torture.
The homeless woman walks right on by the bus stop and the fat lady is mercifully done her cellphone conversation. I hear the mustache-man say, "Another Monday morning, huh, Alice?" In her shrill voice the fat-ass lady says, "Yeah, Ernie, there's a Monday at the beginning of every week," and she giggles. Oh man! I check again to be sure I've got the correct amount of money for the bus ride in my hand and then take a last drag off my cigarette and step on the butt wondering where the fuck's the bus? Tapping a foot nervously I'm looking in the direction the bus will come from, but no sign of it yet. That fucking bus better be on time or I'm screwed! Checking my wristwatch for the tenth time, seeing it's eight-o-four now and, oh good, here comes the bus. I take a couple of steps towards the bus stop bench but don't get too close to Ernie or Alice. It's a fairly new bus so when it comes to a stop the front-end of the bus lowers and the doors open with a swish sound. Naturally I wait for mustache-man and the fat-ass lady to get on the bus first. When fat ass is up the three steps, I follow and the doors close behind me, "Swoosh".
Alice puts money in the big contraption next to the bus driver and says to him, "G'morning, Gus!" The super-bored-looking bus driver glances at her and barely nods his head. He's a big black dude, apparently not thrilled about being a bus driver. I don't blame him. Fat ass waddles down the aisle saying 'G'morning, Fran,' to a woman with too much make-up on who's sitting next to the window five rows of seats down. Fat-ass plops down next to Fran. I drop the correct amount in the slot and sway a little grabbing one of the metal poles for balance as the bus pulls away.
Glancing down the long row of seats I see everyone is sitting by themselves except for Fran and Alice. No one appears happy to be here but they all seem to be minding their own business, which is excellent! Walking slowly down the aisle looking for an empty seat, preferably one without someone across the aisle from me. Then I almost gasp because four rows down sits a sexy young guy looking at, what else, his cellphone. I'm past him so quickly I only have a fleeting idea of his looks and age. He could be too young for me but from what my quick glance tells me he's potentially a rare one of the cute young-male variety. The seat behind him is empty so I swing onto that seat.
Damn, it'd be great to have someone to glance at and fantasize about during my morning bus rides. I should have sat across from him but I couldn't think fast enough. The backs of the seats are too high for me to see in front of me but I can see a partial view of him reflected off the window next to him. He does look young, and with what looks like the same haircut Robby gave me, only the kid's hair is dark brown and longer than mine. Tomorrow, assuming he rides this bus every morning, I'll sit across from him. If the bus was more crowded I'd have an excuse to sit next to him but my stop is only the fourth stop on this line so it's not crowded yet. Well, ha ha, I'm stupidly happy that kid is on this bus; it gives the bus ride a positive vibe. In addition to that, bus rides in general often give me a boner from the swaying motion and the way they stop and start.
The next stop is only like three minutes from my stop. Oh fuck, there are maybe a dozen people waiting to get on. It takes a couple of minutes for them all to get on and pay. Now there's talking and people are beginning to double-up on seating. I slide my backpack on the seat next to me and stare very hard out the window as people walk down the aisle looking for a seat. No one asks me to move my backpack and after a five-minute ride the bus comes to another stop with even more people waiting to get on than the last stop. I look at my watch wondering if the bus is on schedule.
I luck out again and no one sits next to me. Ha, no one has the balls to ask me to move my backpack. The next stop there are people getting off before people can get on. Lots of people get on and a lady sits next to my boy in front of me and then I sense someone hesitating next to me before moving on. Asshole! I'm staring hard out the window again and now someone is standing next to my backpack making a huffy sound before moving on further back in the bus. Good, but I'm starting to sweat. Who knew all this tension would pop-up during a bus ride to work.
There's another stop and as we get closer to downtown more and more people get off with even more getting on. I have two stops to go; it's the stop before Framingham center on the outskirts of downtown. People are moving down the aisle again and I'm thinking 'Keep fucking moving' until I hear a man says, "Would you please move your backpack?" Is he talking to me? Of course he is so I pull my backpack onto my lap, mumbling, "Sorry," without looking at him. As soon as he sits down I smell his overwhelmingly strong aftershave lotion, or maybe it's cologne. It's enough to gag me, plus he has a smelly Globe newspaper that he spreads out almost past my shoulder. Jesus, some people! I've got the back of my hand to my nose thinking how much shittier this ride will be on a rainy day when everyone's damp clothing will be smelling bad, not to mention the umbrellas dripping rain water. Oh man...
Okay this is the stop before mine. Hmmm, should I get up and walk to the front of the bus now or wait until the bus stops? Contemplating that I hear, "Excuse me, this is my stop coming up," and it's the voice of the kid in front of me sliding past the woman who sat next to him. Cute sounding voice on that kid, and he gets off at my stop! I glance at the newspaper-reading man next to me. Oh my God he's a big dude, forty-something-years-old with that four-day beard growth that must be mandatory nowadays. I clear my throat and sort of make a standing motion but this doofus doesn't pick-up on the idea I want to get past him. I go, "Excuse me," as I halfway stand and he gives me an irritated 'look' so I say more forcefully than I intended, "I need to get off at this stop! Sorry to inconvenience you." He makes another face while partially moving his legs toward the aisle. Asshole! I squeeze past his long bony knees and, dammit, someone got out of their seat and is between me and the kid. If the jerk-off sitting next to me had moved when I first hinted I could have... oh fuck it.
There's six of us getting off at this stop and when the kid gets off he walks in the opposite direction I'll be going. And now the dumb-ass in front of me is asking a question of the bus driver so when I finally manage to get off the bus the kid is half a block away... in the opposite direction I'm going. Why does shit like this always happen to me? The kid looks to be about my size. Now if he's age appropriate maybe I'll sit next to him tomorrow morning.
With my backpack bouncing off my back I run the quarter-mile to the office. When I first worked for the Dickers Company it had a longer name and there was only a couple of buildings but now there's a new, much larger main office building along with the ones that were here four years ago. There's also a lot of new businesses and offices built-up around the Dickers & Son property which Rob's father bought thirty years ago for a lot less per acre I'd imagine than it sells for today. Smart business man... maybe. I jog right through the main entrance and stop at the reception desk with sweat on my forehead and me generally feeling uncomfortably warm. The lady at the desk is on the phone as she looks quizzically up at me. I smile and she smiles back, so that's encouraging.
I stand here sort of moving my feet like... what the fuck lady? She gets off the phone and asks, "Can I help you?" I go, "Yes, this is my first day of work. I'm a summer, um, employee, ha ha, whatever ya call...," and she nods, "Okay, swell for you. What can I do for you?" I go, "Well, um, I'm supposed to be at Human Resources, um, is it in this building?" When I worked here last year Rob took me in through another door so I don't know the building's layout. She points to the corridor on her left, saying, "Yes, you're in the right building. Um, you've already been hired, you say?" I nod, "Yes, I filled-out the papers online." She goes, "Well, um, okay if you say so. You look a little young, that's all I meant. Anyway, Human Resources is halfway down the hall on your right. Look for the sign and good luck, young man." Huh, I nod muttering, "Thanks," and walk swiftly down the hall. What'd she think, I'd lie about being hired? Did she suppose I was sneaking in an office building because I thought it'd be fun? Jesus!
When I go through the door for Human Resources I see the big clock on the wall tick to exactly eight-thirty. This is a big room, not an office like they have on the floor Rob's on. There are computer work stations back-to-back laid-out on two long work tables; enough places for ten people with everyone having a computer and big monitors that sort of provides some limited privacy. There are six people here presently, but no one is working. They all have coffees and donuts and none of them is paying me any attention, so yeah, it's awkward just standing here.
This is a bright room with windows across the back wall and everything in here looks new. It looks like a nice, roomie place to work. I do a couple of fake coughs and finally a lady about thirty-years-old wearing slacks and a red blouse with sneakers on her feet walks up to me and says, "Are you lost?" I give her my really good smile, one that's been known to have very positive effects on people although this lady seems to be keeping her excitement level under control, so to her question, 'Am I lost?', I say, "I hope not. I'm a summer, um, employee." She asks, "Who hired you?" I shrug, blushing now as I mumble, "Um, I filled out the papers online yesterday. I didn't actually talk to anyone specifically." What am I supposed to say... 'My boyfriend got the job for me'? She snorts out a laugh and then says, "Janette. Would you come over here for a second, please?"
Janette is older with a large mole at the corner of her mouth. I try not to stare at it as she asks the first lady, "Who is this handsome fellow, Kay?" Kay says, "He says he's summer help for Human Resources. Do you know anything about that?" She shrugs, "No, but I hope he'll be working with us. I'll call, Baxter," and she asks me, "What's your name, hon?" I tell her and she pick up the closest phone. Janette says, "Um, you look very nice, Dylan, but if you're going to be working for us you can lose the tie or you'll make the rest of us look bad," and she smiles, touching my arm, adding, "Make yourself a cup of coffee." She points to a table with a Keurig machine and an open box of donuts. I don't really want another cup of coffee, but I mumble, "Thank you," and go over and get another cup anyway, as if my stomach isn't upset enough already.
I'm sort of leaning against the wall still wearing my backpack thinking I should take out my cellphone and pretend I'm reading text messages or something. A man comes in the room at eight-forty and behind him a youngish woman. She immediately joins the group of women with Kay and they laugh about something while glancing over at me. The man's wearing the dress-uniform of management; a dark suit, white shirt and striped tie. He looks at the computer tablet he's holding and then glances up at me. Holding out his hand and, with a big fake smile, he says, "You must be Dylan Newman." I nod, "Yes, I am," and we shake hands once as he's saying, "I'm Bill Baxter, manager of Human Resources. Why didn't you come to my office directly?" I say, "I didn't know exactly where to go." He's like, "Remind me, Dylan, if you would, who exactly was it who hired you?" I say, "Mr. Dickers," hoping he'll thinks I mean Rob's father. He goes, "Oh yes, now I remember." Liar!
I've already forgotten his name as he pats my shoulder smiling his fake smile again, saying, "It's wonderful having you on board for the summer! You'll be working with my special op's guy, Carl Tremblay." I look at him with a blank expression on my face so he asks, "Um, is that your understanding? That you'll be working with Carl?" I go, "Not specifically, but probably." He looks at his tablet again where he sees my name and probably wondering how it got there. Apparently someone needs to work with this Tremblay guy so this guy glances around the room and, not finding any answers there, he goes, "Why don't you bring your coffee and I'll introduce you to Carl." Unless a woman is named 'Carl' we'll need to go someplace else for the introduction because there's only women in this room.
Sure enough he goes out the door with me following him. He says, "Carl will supervise your project, so report directly to him each morning," and we go through the very next door to a much smaller room with one window and two work stations. The manager says, "I'm almost positive you'll work out of here but feel free to use the coffee and snack area next door. Carl will fill you in," and he looks around and chuckles, adding, "When he gets here that is."
I'm wondering if it's possible for this to get anymore awkward than it's already been as this manager-guy checks his watch, clears his throat and mumbles, "He should be here any minute now. We," and he does a fake chuckle, "We all try to be on time so please don't take this as an example of how things normally work around here, er," and he looks at his tablet again to get my name, adding, "Dylan." I go, "Oh, ha, sure," without knowing what I mean by that, never mind him knowing what I meant. He doesn't appear to care what I meant.
There's ten seconds of silence and then he asks, "Do you have plans for college, Dylan? I'm assuming you've graduated, right?" It's almost understandable that he has no idea who I am or who hired me. I say, "Um, well yes. I graduated high school three years ago. I'll be a senior at Merrimack College this fall." He has this surprised expression on his face, mumbling, "Really? I would never have..." and then an odd-looking character comes in through the open door, saying, "Bill, that damn route 128 was backed-up again. Construction near route 30." Bill says sarcastically, with forced jocularity, "Goodafternoon, Bill. Your summer boy is here." This odd creature glances at me as if he didn't notice me when he came in. His eyebrows go up and he looks startles as he mumbles to me, "Well aren't you something," and then turns his attention back to Bill, "He'll be working on the employee introductions to the revised benefit program, I'm assuming." Bill almost shrugs but catches himself, and says, "Robert hired him and, yes, I'm almost certain the new benefit package is why." He turns to me, "You're a relative of Mr. Dickers, are you?" I no, "No, just a friend of the family." He goes, "That's awesome, son!"
The manager's irritated and I can't say I blame him. He takes it out on Carl by showing a forced a half-smile, saying, "We all know about the route 30 construction, Carl. It's been going on for a few months now. You might want to leave the house a little earlier because of it." Carl bobs his head at his manager, and the manager adds, "Well enough said about that. I'm sure you want to get started with your boy, um, young man, Dylan Newland, and that new benefits project." Newland? He's apparently on par with me as far as remembering names go. Carl and I shake hands briefly as he says, "Good to meet you, Dylan." Turning to me, Bill says, "I'll leave you in Carl's capable hands and, um, welcome to Dickers & Son." Annoyed at how unprofessional this has been, I tell him, 'Oh, full disclosure, asshole. I'm having anal sex with the owner's son. That's how I got this job, and just so ya know... I could probably get your ass fired if I put my mind to it.' Not really, I don't actually say that. I say, "Thank you, nice to be working here."
Carl and I watch the manager leave and then Carl mutters, "What a dink," and then to me, "Whatever he told you forget immediately. You'll probably never see him again anyway. I'm the only person you need to impress and I impress easily. And I know your name isn't Newland like numb-nuts said. It was cool of you not to correct him." I nod, not knowing what the right thing to say to that might be.
Carl is not a good-looking dude. He looks like someone who tried to swallow something too big for his throat. He's prematurely lost a lot of his hair too, way too much for a guy I'd guess is in his late twenties. He's obviously had some single hair restoration done in the form of a shallow widow's peak forming a high forehead. The transplanted black hairs he's let grow for a very long time and they're pulled tightly from the widow's peak across the top of his head partially covering the mostly bald top, and then the transplanted hairs joins with the thick horseshoe of naturally-growing hair on the sides and back of his longish head to form a stubby ponytail. It takes a concerted effort on my part not to let my eyes drift up to look at his odd hairdo.
He has a prominent Adam's apple too and it bobs up and down when he swallows. He's wearing big black-rimmed glasses supported by a too-small nose and he's taller than me and quite thin. There's a bump at the middle of Carl's forehead that I'm guessing is part of his face and not the result of him bumping into something. He's wearing a baggy shirt that too big for him and it bunches at the belt. His khakis look like they just came out of the dryer and they droop low on his waist and then pile on the top of his desert boots. Like the lady told me when I walked in the Human Resources department... I definitely won't need the tie.
Carl talks in bursts and although he's odd-looking I'm hoping I'll find something likable about him. He seems honest and sincere and obviously totally himself. He says, "That work space," and he points to a modest computer station, adding, "Was recently set-up for you although you'll need to work out of the office quite a bit as well, I suppose." I nod and he asks, "Hey, do you know the joke about two cannibals eating a clown?" I go, "And one cannibal asks the other, 'Does this taste funny to you?" He goes, "Oh, you heard it before." I go, "No, I guessed the punch line," and Carl does a rather odd, "Heh heh heh heh," kind of laugh.
He says, "Let's sit here at my desk and I'll go over what you'll be doing for the next three months. The overview is this: Dickers & Son has completely redone the employees' benefits package with different carriers, lower co-pays, and our IRA plan is being replaced by a better 401 (k) plan. The paid vacations and sick days have been upgraded and it's totally different from what the employees signed-on for when they were hired. You need to interview every single employee in every department including those out in the field. This includes to a lesser extent certain part-time employees who work at least twenty hours a week. Temporary employees like yourself, for example, or summer lawn-cutting help don't have benefits but you'll need to interview them anyway to insure they know that. Transparency is the key. Each individual will need to initial each page of the benefit package you review so everyone theoretically agrees they understand it. Then they'll sign the handheld business-class device I'll give you," and he picks up a computer device, "And this is it. They sign the screen after you bring up their name and employee number. They can sign with their finger or this stick." Am I supposed to remember all this?
I let out a noisy deep breath, so he goes, "Nobody told you what you'd be doing, did they?" I say, "No, but that's my fault. I never asked for details of the job, but I can do this." He goes, "I know you can, but first you need to learn the programs before you can explain them to the employees. There's a five-hour presentation on tutorial videos that you'll watch today and tomorrow, two or three times each actually. I've studied this package of benefits myself and it's much better than our old package so you can be honest when you tell employees it's much improved. Many will be suspicious the company is out to screw them of course, but that's not what this is all about at all! If you do a good job of explaining the improved benefits they'll realize how much better it is. The new benefits cost the company a lot and it's supposed to be a morale booster so sell it as a huge positive." I nod again trying to remember the first burst of information he told me while at the same time dreading the thought of learning all this benefits shit. I just finished my junior year learning stuff I'll never use and now this. Yeah, but I'm making $500 a week to learn this stuff and that makes a big difference!
Carl says, "In case you're wondering what I do. I handle claims for the health and dental plan. The company's basically self-insured but, well... it's complicated and employees don't care who pays as long as it's not them. This project is extra work over and above my already overloaded work day so I'll expect you to do most of it yourself. But, of course, any questions you have as you're studying the videos come to me no matter if you think it might be a dumb question or not." I nod again and mumble, "Thanks." He asks, "Did you bring a lunch?" I say, "Yeah, it's in my backpack," and he goes, "There's a refrigerator in the room next door, but be sure to put your name on your lunch. C'mon, I'll show you." We go to the room I just left and Carl says 'Good morning' to a number of the women, and there are now at least ten of them, all working now at whatever it is they do. There's a room in the back I didn't see before and in that room are vending machines and a large refrigerator. Carl opens the refrigerator door and I see all kinds of containers which I assume are lunches. They're all marked with a name plus there's a note that reads, 'If I catch the bastard eating my yogurts I'm going to pull his or her tongue out. Sue B.' Carl chuckles but doesn't comment.
I mark my plastic lunch bag with my name using a magic marker and Carl pats my shoulder, saying, "Okay, I'll set you up with the videos in the small meeting room I've reserved for today and tomorrow. Feel free to take breaks when you need to or come to me with any question you have." As we're leaving the Human Resources room a youngish blond-headed girl smiles at me while blatantly staring at me. I frown at her and then outside the room we walk around a corner and go in a room that Carl tells me is for small meetings. He shows me how to work the video machine unnecessarily 'cause who doesn't know how to do that? I pretend to pay attention and he finally says, "I'll leave you to it, Dylan. You can eat your lunch in here or at your work space in the office. That's where you'll consolidate the previous days interviews and plan for the coming day's interviews."
I'm sure this will sort itself out, but for now I'm totally confused. Carl says, "Or if you don't want to bring your lunch you can buy it in the cafeteria. I'll show you where that is whenever you want. Feel free to get snacks or drinks from the vending machines and, um, well good luck. I'll check in on you from time to time to make sure you're still awake, heh, heh, heh," with me staring at his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. I force a chuckle and he asks, "Do you need anything, or are you ready to tackle this?" I nod my head, "No, I'm good... for now anyway." He leaves and when the door closes behind him I'm shaking my head thinking... BALLS!. Sitting in the chair in front of the video screen I do nothing for a minute. This has been a fucked-up first forty-five minutes of my new job. Then, with a resigned sigh, I click on the monitor and music plays as the title for the first tutorial comes on the screen and a voice says, "Welcome to Dickers & Son's new benefit package. We'll start by reviewing....". This blows!
After two hours I'm ready to quit the job. The first tutorial is incomprehensibly boring; it goes on minute after boring minute of seemingly contradictory statements using legal terms no one except a lawyer understands. By quarter-of-eleven I shut it off and stagger into Carl's room. He looks up from his computer, "Whassup, Dylan?" I jerk my thumb in the direction of the meeting room, asking, "Seriously? That's, um, who would..." and he holds a hand up, saying, "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's like heavy-lifting listening to that, but ya gotta listen to it so I can check off that you did. Two days, sixteen hours' worth of listening and comprehending. Then there's a computer test to prove you're an expert." I hold my hands out, palms up, mumbling, "Really? No way, Carl. I listen to tutorial number whatever, and then go back concentrating so hard my eyeballs ache listening to it again and still don't know what I just heard." He nods, "Yeah, I had to listen and take the computer test myself before getting certified as supervisor of the transition team. You and I are the entire team by the way, and as I mentioned already I've got too much other stuff to do, so it's basically you, when we get right down to it."
I look at him blankly and he stands, saying, "Let's get a drink." Shrugging, I go, "Yeah, okay." I'm seriously ready to quit. Again we go to the first room I was in and a few women look up and one woman mumbles, "Hey, Carl, whassup?" He goes, "My boy just spent a couple of hours with that new benefit tutorial and wants to commit suicide." She goes, "I hear ya. Stick with it, Dylan." How does she remember my name? I smile. What else can I do? Carl puts a hot chocolate K-cup in the machine. He grins, quietly saying, "You lasted two hours. That's amazing stamina." Frowning at him, I'm like, "Whaddaya mean?" He says, "Some of the managers we're curious and listened to the tutorials as a group last month. With the video running most of them were in the hall or the cafeteria. They'd go back in and listen for a while but nobody made it as long as an hour at a time." I'm really frowning now as I make another cup of coffee that I don't want. Carl says, "Bring your coffee," and I following him back to his office.
In his office he holds up a folder, saying, "Here is the folder each employee needs to initial each page of and then sign the handheld computer device verifying they understand their benefits. Each page list the differences in a benefit but without the legalize you're dealing with on the video. Oh, and don't worry about the test. I've got the answers so you'll be taking an open book test." I go, "I'll have the answers?" He nods, "Right in front of you, yes. It's going to be much simpler than you're thinking it'll be. So go back in there and keep the video running. Even try to understand what some of it means and then play it again tomorrow. You'll pick-up stuff that will surprise you. Then I'll go over this much simpler and understandable folder of changes until you feel comfortable with it."
I'm feeling better now that I know I'm only watching and listening to the videos so Carl can honestly say I did. If I learn anything, so much the better. Carl says, "And seriously, they'll only be five-to-ten-percent of the employee who will question anything. They'll be anxious to get through your presentation and sign anything indicating that they understand the changes. It's an excellent employee benefit package and better than the very good one they have right now. The new benefits start on September first so you'll have plenty of time to personally visit with all three hundred employees." I go, "Why can't we do it in groups?" He shrugs, "No reason really, other than Robert wants it done this way." I'm pretty sure he means Rob's father. I nod, "Okay," and get up and carry my coffee back to the meeting room.
Around one o'clock I eat lunch in the meeting room and then walk back to my work space in Carl's room looking out the window. Jeez, it looks like a really nice day out there. Fuck, I'm kinda wishing I was out there yucking it up with guys on the grass-cutting crew. At the end of those days there was this macho feeling about working on the crew. It's like I did laborer's work and could see the results before my eyes. We left the properties look really good. With a sigh I go back to the small meeting room and turn the video back on to try earning my pay by paying attention. One-thirty to four-thirty takes what seemed like ten hours, but I finally turn off the video and leave my jail cell. People I don't know are bustling around getting ready to leave as I look in on Carl and, not seeing him, I shrug to myself and walk out of the building. My first torturous day is over! Better days ahead, hopefully.
Walking, not jogging, to the bus stop I wonder if my mystery boy will be taking this same bus back home. Then I pull my backpack around in front and take out the bus schedule to see how long of a wait I'll have for the bus. My cellphone beeps before I can figure out the next bus. It's Rob! He goes, "Hey, boyfriend," and damn it's so nice hearing his voice. I go, "Hi, Robby! Whassup?" He say, "Can you find my office? I'll give you a ride home." I tell him I'm at my bus stop and he says he'll pick me up there. Huh, there's no one at the bus stop which tells me a bus isn't coming along anytime soon. Sitting on the bench waiting for Rob I try reading the schedule again and it looks like there's a ten-of-five bus at this stop. There was one at four-twenty and then during rush hour they come every half-hour. Nothing's really working-out for me bus-wise. Or maybe people get used to waiting twenty minutes for a bus. Or maybe I'm just a complainer who can't believe bus timetables aren't arranged to accommodate moi.
When I see Rob's pickup at the corner red-light I get this stupidly happy feeling like, I'm back to reality... my reality of things accommodating me again. Rob pulls up smiling like mad and I get in feeling so much better. Pulling away, he asks the obvious, "So, how'd your first day go, babe?" I'm like, "Well it couldn't have been any better, Rob. A cupcake of a job if ever there was one." He laughs out loud and then goes, "Bull-shit. I was curious and checked with that pompous ass, Baxter, in personnel, or excuse me, Human Resources. He told me to see Carl, who told me what was expected of you and about the test and all. Holy shit, I felt bad. My poor, Dylan, what did I get him into?" I go, "Ah, fuck it. My supervisor has my back. I need to survive one more day of horrendous tutorial videos but then Carl will show me what I really need to know, and it's like one-tenth of what's on the video." Rob's like, "So it's only you and Carl Tremblay?" I nod, and Rob says, "He's kind of an odd duck, although I don't know him well at all." I go, "I'm trying to like him okay."
I ask how Rob's day went and he goes, "Well, I'm adjusting to a bad situation that's developed with my office mate, who happens to be the overbearing, Max Renoldie. He's a pushy fucker." I go, "How do you mean?" and Rob goes, "He rearranged the office furniture over the weekend. Now he has the main space and my desk is in the corner. I asked him what the fuck he thinks he's doing and he tells me the only reason I still have space in an office is because he talked Walt Springs into letting me keep my desk there." I go, "Who's Walt Springs?" Rob looks a little flustered, saying, "He's the asshole operations manager in charge of buildings, equipment, and furnishings. Shit like that. Supposedly he wants me out on the open space where there's no assigned desk. There's computer stations at long tables and it's a first-come first-served sort of thing. You get there early to get a good station near a window or whatever." I go, "Why don't you get your Dad to intervene?" Rob shakes his head slowly, "That's the worst thing I could do. No, I still have my desk in an office but now it's Max's office and he's allowing me to share it with him. I'll have my day, Dylan, but right now I'm basically summer staff as far as Walt's concerned. Max was in the old building but they're rearranging office space. He's actually being nice letting me stay in the office with him." I ask, "Who's name is on the door?" and Rob goes, "His." I leave it at that.
As we drive onto my street Rob asks about the bus ride and I tell it's okay and describe my experience without mentioning the cute guy on the bus, who I may sit with tomorrow. Rob goes, "I can drive you tomorrow," and I go, "Thanks, but I want to get used to a morning schedule. I'm going to take the same bus tomorrow, ya know, to get used to a routine. My other option is a bus forty-five minutes earlier." He goes, "Guess I shouldn't have offered you a ride home, huh?" I go, "I'm glad you did! This ride home is much appreciated." He goes, "Oh good because I was thinking we could check out your bedroom again." I go, "We can do that, sure," as my dick tightens-up. Before getting in Robby's pick-up there wasn't a single other thing about today that I felt was remotely sexy; nothing! No one to flirt with or fantasize about... no cute or sexy guys, period! Well hell, I didn't see hardly anyone all day anyway. I'll begin seeing a lot of people the day after tomorrow though.
In the condo we both get Cokes and have a cigarette on the balcony while drinking the sodas. Rob looks so handsome in his suit and tie. Then I try remembering where my tie is. Oh yeah, it's in my back pack. I tell Rob about that manager-guy thinking I just graduated high school. Rob goes, "High school? What the fuck?" and then, "Your hair's messed up, babe. Let me..." and he takes his pocket comb out, saying, "Stand still," and he tries re-combing my hair. Looking serious he combs it this way and that, then says, "Your manager is Bill Baxter. His high school misconception, Dylan, is partially due to this haircut. It does take a couple of years off your age." I'm like, "What? You said it didn't," and Rob chuckles, "Yeah, but now I think it does... and I like it." Rob has the neat regular haircut I gave him with bangs combed over and he's looking so professional in his suit I feel like jumping him. I like when he looks and acts the businessman part. Plus he's so fucking hunky and good-looking. He asks, "Why are you looking at me like that?" I go, "Like what?" He flicks my bangs up and then pats them down a little and then gives the back of my neck a squeeze, saying, "If I didn't know better I'd think you had the hots for me." I go, "Dream on," and we both drop our cigarette butts and then Rob grabs my arm pulling me inside.
I take a deep breath, muttering, "Whoa," and inside the sliding glass doors we get into a hot make-out; it's like we haven't seen each other for months. Well, we didn't see each yesterday then all day today, so... We're groping each other and sucking face. I don't even think about topping as I'm quickly aroused and desperate for Rob to fuck me hard and fast. We make our way to my bedroom kissing and groping. In the bedroom I undo his tie as he's dropping his suit jacket on the unmade bed. With our mouths still together he's unbuttoning his shirt and that gets dropped on his suit coat. We unbuckle each other's belts and then pull our pants down and step out of them. Rob turns me around and smacks my ass hard, "SMACK!SMACK!" and then pushes me face first against the bed. With one of his knees on my ass holding me down he grabs the lubricant. A gob of it goes on his finger and then his finger goes up my ass as I'm awkwardly stroking my hardening cock that's under me. Rob rubs the lube around inside and outside my asshole and then takes his finger out, muttering, "C'mon, baby, suck my dick." Sliding back off the bed I turn around getting on my knees and take his already firm cock in my mouth and suck his dick into a wicked hard boner in less than a minute. He's smears some lube on his cock mixing it with his pre-cum, gasps and then mumbles, "Turn around." I turn around on my knees lifting up to rest my hands on the bed while pushing my ass out trembling with anticipation. Rob thrusts his cock head at my asshole and the hard slippery head spreads the anus lips as I hold my breath against the hurt. It goes halfway in and he pulls it out with me going, "Aaaah! Fuck me, Robby." The extent of our arousal is nuts. It just sort of exploded on us.
His hands are spreading my butt cheeks and then BAM in goes the head again and this time it bullies it's way right past my sphincter muscle. Lubricant is awesome! Rob smacks my ass as he humps the rest of his super-fat hard cock up inside me with my back arching, and me groaning, "Aaaah!" Hurts yeah, but it hurts so goooood! Rob smacks my ass hard again, "Smack! Smack!" as he humps against my buttock, then another, "SMACK!" and another hump against me that pushes me onto the bed, my boner again up flat against my belly. Leaving his fat erection up my ass, Rob kicks my legs apart and then gets them really spread and then pulls his cock back to rams it right back in but harder this time. I moan at the intense pleasure that's overtaken the hurt. Another hard, "SMACK!" of his hand on my ass and now I'm feeling properly dominated for sure. My butt cheeks stinging and hot. I lie docilely on the bed, my head swimming with the submissive sexual pleasure of it all. Rob grunts with the effort of doing a half-dozen hard thrust followed by that extra thrust and lift that raises my ass a little.
My cock is a stone-hard under me throbbing in its hardness as Rob starts going at it fast and furious now, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds as I'm bounced on the mattress and this wild hard fucking continues for maybe a minute before he takes hold of my hands that I have near my head and pulls my arms back and up while still humping his cock up my ass, "Slapslsapslap," lifting my arms further and the submissive trance intensifies as I feel my climax ready to blow. He gets his strong right hand around both my wrists, and oh fuck, I feel so submissive I get that floating sensation. This explosion of rough sex from Robby has taken me by surprise and my climax burst upon me with my back arches and every muscle in my body contracting as I flop up off the bed an inch-or-so, "Eeeeeiiiii!" with cum bursting from my cock in a long streak that gets cut off under me when I drop back on the mattress and it feels all warm and creamy on my stomach and chest. It's all blackness and beauty as lying flat on the bed another hard stream of cum shoots out from my stone-penis going nowhere as my body sizzles with incredible sensation. The pleasure sensations around my groin are almost painful. And then it's mostly over already leaving me shuddering and moaning at the intense pleasure that fades, fades, and fades some more and then vanishes completely. I tremble for a few seconds as reality come roaring back into my brain and I'm back from never-never land hearing the grunts of Robby along with the, "Slapslapslap," sounds of his crotch smacking against my ass jostling me on the mattress.
My eyes are half closed as I docilely lie here still enjoying Rob's boner being hammered up my ass while I marvel at my latest climax. Rob's breathing in short bursts, he lets go of my wrists and grabs both sides of my hips humping against my buttock, humping hard against me without withdrawing his cock and then, BANG, there it is, a hard stream of hot cum hit inside my bowels and then he's lying on my back desperately humping against me for three, then four second and then there's just heavy breathing from him as he lies on my back, his heart beating fast against my spine. His moist sweet breath dampens the side of my face and I can't imagine enjoying anything more than this. Rob's body feels very warm through his t-shirt and my rectum feels good being stuffed full of Rob's fat cock that's slippery with his own cum.
More heavy breathing from Rob as his heart beat gets closer to normal and I feel a sloppy kiss on the side of my head and a murmured, "Oh my God how I love you, Dylan. It's scary how much I love you." With a last gasp he pushes himself up, like doing a push-up, pulling his cock from my ass as I go, "Ooh!" and feel cool air fly up my stretched-open rectum even as his warm cum begins drooling out. Robby stands up, gives my ass another hard slap! and "SMACK!" rings out in my bedroom as I do a quiet, "Ow." Rob gets a hand under each side of my chest, saying, "Up we go," and I get off the bed, saying, "Goddamn, Rob, you're getting really good at the rough stuff. I loved it, boyfriend!" He pulls my arm, "C'mon babe, let's get cleaned up a little, I pumped a lot of cum up inside you," and as we stagger into the bathroom he's like, "Jesus, what set us off like that?"
In the bathroom getting a washcloth wet, I go, "I'm not sure what set us off, but it was awesome sex, Rob. Keep it up, you're getting fairly good at it." He snorts a laugh, "Good, I need encouragement." He wipes and then washes my ass with the wet washcloth. After I dry my buttocks I'm in the bedroom putting a folded bunch of toilet paper under my asshole before pulling up my jockey shorts. There's more of Rob's cum up there that'll be coming out over the next half-hour-or-so. I mutter, "Hell, I'm changing into some sweat pants." Finished wiping cum and lubricant off his cock, Rob gets dressed in his pants and white shirt, putting his tie in his suit jacket and then asks, "Do you feel like a beer, Dylan?" Which is another way of telling me that he feels like a beer. I change into a light-weight sweatshirt with a hood and in the kitchen get us a couple of beers from the refrigerator and take the caps off with a church key. They're twist-off caps but the crinkling around the cap cuts my hand sometimes.
Rob and I go out on the balcony for another smoke. Everything has changed it seems since the Coke and cigarette we had twenty minutes ago. There's nothing like the awesome feeling of being sexually satisfied the way I feel right after that wild rough and hard fucking I just got from my boyfriend. I wish he was always that cocky and rough. After the sex I can feel our love for each other. It's like a tangible thing and it's, um, another one of those indescribable things I guess. It's like there's an aura all around us. He taps the head of his beer bottle on my bottle and mutters, "To us, babe." We both swill some beer and beer's been tasting good lately. I mean the first swallow mostly. After that it's more a habit of drinking beer, than enjoying the taste. Then there's the side benefit of getting slightly high if we choose to drink a few bottles. Things don't bother me as much when I get a little booze-high going. Some guys get nasty when they get high; I do my best not to drink with those guys. Assholes...
We look at each other and grin, feeling good about being together. I asks, "Why didn't we get an apartment together for the summer, Rob?" He says, "Seriously?" I go, "Yeah, why haven't we ever thought about doing that?" He says, "There's a few reasons I can think of right off the top of my head. First of all I think that would be insulting to our parents and secondly you're working to save money for college and thirdly there's no complex near us that rents by the month. A year lease at a minimum with first and last month's rent is almost always required." I go, "Oh, so that's why, huh?" and Rob hugs me around the waist adding, "It'd be cool though, wouldn't it? My condo will be built by this time next year and we'll talk about it then if it's okay with you. No dates set in stone for us though, right?" I nod, "Yeah, but your condo sounds mighty enticing."
We drink some beer and as Rob exhales some smoke, he says, "Today I was over to Human Resources a little after twelve o'clock to take you to lunch but you weren't there and the lady said she wasn't sure were Carl stashed you. That's what she said, 'stashed you'. Carl wasn't in his office so I figured you were in the cafeteria but couldn't find you there either. I should have just texted you I guess." Aww, he was gonna have lunch with me. I tell him about the meeting room Carl reserved for today and tomorrow. Then add, "I suppose they'll have a list of employees for me to, I guess you'd call it, 'interview' starting Wednesday. If they leave it up to me though I'm 'interviewing' you first, Rob." He says, "What exactly will you do during these interviews?" I tell him and he says, "I just might refuse to sign that thing and have you do the interview all over again... a few times perhaps." I say, "Yeah, maybe we could do that at a bar during lunch and then you could fuck me exactly like you did a few minutes ago in the pick-up." He chuckles, "Good idea."
I get a cellphone call from Chubby asking about dinner tonight and then suggests, "Oh wait, I've got some baby-back-ribs we can barbecue at my place. How's that sound?" I go, "Yum! And maybe have some mac and cheese and a salad with the ribs." When Chub and I end the call I ask Robby to join us for dinner. He says, "That sounds awesome but Mom expects me for dinner at six, so I gotta get going, babe." We gulp down the rest of the beers and do a quick hug. Rob says, "I think I can drive you home tomorrow too." I say, "Oh good. We'll do it just like we did today." He goes, "For sure! Oh, I forgot to tell you. It looks like the weekend after this coming weekend I'll be in our Westborough office." I go, "That sucks," and he nods, "It'll be an on-and-off thing all summer. You'll need to go there too at some point because we've got almost fifty construction workers on the big project." I nod, "Construction workers will undoubtedly be very cooperative during my interviews." He goes, "Good luck with that."
Rob rubs my head, saying, "Gotta go but, same-time, same-station tomorrow after work, baby," and he's out the door. I almost whined about him messing-up my hair but stop myself remembering Pony whining about that every time I messed his hair up. That makes me grin and text Pony: 'Do you miss me, Pony boy? I just had a grin thinking about you.' He texts right back, 'When can I spend the weekend with you? And no I don't miss you at all and it's just Pony, drop the boy. I'll be 21 in a couple of weeks.' I text back, 'Happy Birthday!!! Maybe the weekend after this coming one you can visit. If you still want to visit.' He always types so fucking fast. His text comes back a lot faster than mine go out. 'I'll hold you to that, Dylan, and I lied about the missing you part. Oh, and I've been very very bad so you'll need to spank my ass before doing... you know what.' I text, 'Make sure you delete these texts! I'm off to dinner now with my brother. Bye!' Almost before I get my cellphone in my pocket it buzzes again. Pony's text, 'One last thing. I still L you!'
Damn that Pony's a good kid. Obviously I won't have him stay here when Rob's home, but I just found out he'll almost certainly be at the other facility the weekend after this one. Hmmm, maybe Rob and I can adopt Pony. Drinking another beer I'm looking out the front window waiting for Chubby to drive up in our Jeep. I've got a feeling this is going to be a good summer; maybe the best summer I've ever had...
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford ========================================================
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