The One #watty2019

One Hundred Nine

"No, no, that's fine," Rhona said in a way that had me picturing her 'casually' inspecting her nails, "Soda and chips are the next logical step."

"I'm still coming back," I sighed as I rubbed my head. This was going to be a headache-and-a-half and she'd not even really started in on me. "And hey, I didn't apply to another GameStop. Just like you said. See? I listen to you."

"Oh, of course you do! Now, on an unrelated note, when's my birthday?"

Shit! "Happy birthday! Sorry I'm not there, but—"

"No, idiot, today isn't my birthday." She clicked her tongue in disapproval so loudly, it felt like she was flicking my brain. "So much for you listening to me. You really can't remember when my birthday is?"

"Look, I..." I'm sure I could have remembered if I was able to divert more attention to it, but my brain wasn't exactly the sharpest at that moment and I was more than a little eager to have the conversation come to an end. I had a play to finish. "I'll probably remember it as soon as we hang up. And I'll definitely tell you when it's actually your birthday."

"Yeah, you'll remember as soon as you find it on Facebook," she snorted, "But whatever. You just make sure you enjoy your new job."

The saccharine sweetness with which she said that last part made my skin crawl. If she'd been there in person, I'm sure she would have been giving me the kind of toothy smile you see right before someone eats your soul. "I am," I replied stoically, "And hey, I could be a telemarketer, so..." Oh, Jesus. Really dude?

"A what now?" There was far too much delight in her voice to be anything good. I should have just kept my mouth shut and she might have hung up. "You were going to be a telemarketer?"

"No. Just forget it. And it's not telemarketing anyway; it's asking people who graduated for donations. It's not about actually selling stuff."

"You're on the phone asking people for money. You're a telemarketer. You're selling college pride." She laughed loudly. "You're not lying, right? That's not what you're actually doing."

"Not, it's not what I'm actually doing." I wasn't going to out Kayla, not when she was working her damndest at it. "I'll send you a picture of me in my work uniform if you really need proof."

"Don't threaten me like that. No one deserves something that cruel." She laughed again, though the volume and pitch were far more merciful. "At least it keeps your stocking skills all nice and sharp. You sell one video game, though..."

"At a college convenience store?"

"Hey, they're selling whatever wherever. I can buy video games at the grocery store." I had my doubts on just how true that statement was but it would do me no good to challenge her, not if I wanted this phone call to end sometime in the next week or so. "How's Kayla?"

"She's fine. Working hard." I didn't specify what she was working hard at. Employment? Classwork? It could be either.

And thankfully, Rhona wasn't curious enough to pursue the topic. "Well, good. As long as she's keeping you in line too...When are you gonna be back again? April? May?"

"May, I think. I'll have to look again. Why? Planning a surprise party at work?"

She snorted loudly. "Who do you think you are? Me? We'll give you a shift and a bunch of stuff to put back. You love restocking! And hey, you're actually kind of okay at it, so..." She paused for a second. "What are you looking at?" I held my tongue, trying to imagine who she was talking to. I was pretty sure she was at work (she'd made me wait for a minute when I first called her), so was it a coworker? A customer? Either way, I imagined them jumping and scurrying away. "Yeah, he is. Want him to tell you?"