Good Things I'll Never Do Again

Two: Miss Suzy's Master Plan

  "Reality continues to ruin my life. "

~Bill Watterson

~~~~~~~

 I frown in preparation at the mention of bad news and pause the TV. No way am I going to miss watching that two-timing bachelor get a thumbtack stuck on his white-toweled rear end.

"Well, I hope this is the kind of bad news that doesn't require traveling," I say, standing up with a groan and propping my arm underneath my elbow.

"Er, no, dear," Miss Suzy says. A sigh sounds at the other end. A deep sigh that tells me that it really is serious. And not just "your second cousin's distant relative died" kind of serious. A kind of serious that would most likely affect me in a big way.

"I'm cutting back employees," she explains.

I lift an eyebrow, not sure what she's getting at. "Do you want me to write the condolence letters or something?"

Miss Suzy sighs again. "I'm cutting your hours, Bevvy."

I blink, not registering the new information. "I never took you for a jokester, Miss Suzy."

"There's no joke."

A bite my cheek. "But...why?" My heart starts racing with panic. "Okay, fine, I occasionally sneak a few pennies to buy a Mountain Dew, and there was that one time I took a nap on top of the polyester stuffing pile. And one time I paid off a twelve-year-old to cover my shift while I snuck into a party that was serving free dinosaur chicken nuggets. Oh, and—"

"It isn't you, dear," Miss Suzy interrupts. "I'm afraid I just don't have the funds to keep the store open seven days a week, or to have eight full-time employees."

I knit my eyebrows together. "But Red Ribbon's is so popular! I mean, where else can you get some fabric and turn it into a bear dressed like a salsa dancer?"

"I suppose some other people don't see it that way."

I take in a breath and close my eyes, running my fingers absently through my hair. "Well, I didn't hear you say the words "you're fired", so...?"

"Right," Miss Suzy agrees, "from now on, you'll be working two days a week. I'm really sorry, Bevvy. You know I have a special place in my heart for you."

I roll my eyes. If she really has a special place, I wouldn't be knocked down from working six days a week all the way down to two.

"Well, maybe next time you decide to ruin someone's day, you'll at least send her chocolate first."

"Oh, honey, I—"

I hang up and toss the phone onto the couch before flopping onto it myself. I stare up at the ceiling, seething. I've worked at Red Ribbon's for eight years! Eight! And now I get two days?

After working at the same dump for eight years, you'd expect to get a raise, not less than half the money you were making before!

With only two ten-hour days, I'll have to find a new job.

I try to still my nerves when I remember that Shaky's Chicken Shack is hiring a mascot. A life wearing a chicken suit with an overstuffed butt makes me want to throw up, so I unpause the TV and try to forget reality for a good long while.

~~~

The next day at work, I hastily tie my apron strings around my waist and walk to the checkout line, where Sacha is ringing up a customer.

"Move it, lady," I snap, shouldering my way in front of the customer and facing Sacha. "We've gotta talk. Like, now."

"Just a moment, Beverly," she says through the side of her mouth.

"Sacha."

"Hold on."

"Sacha."

"Hold on."

"Sacha."

Sacha gives the customer an apologetic look and says, "I'll be with you in just a moment."

She moves out from behind the counter and takes me aside. "What on earth is going on?"

I frown. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"About the cut!"

"The cut?"

"The cut!" I huff and plant a hand on my hip. "Miss Suzy is cutting down on employees and their hours!"

Sacha gasps. "What?"

I can't believe she doesn't know. And I have to admit...I can't believe that I got a call and she didn't.

"But you're still safe, right?" Sacha asks.

"No!" I shout. "From now on, I'm only working on Tuesdays and Thursdays!"

Sacha gasps again, a horrified expression coming across her face. "No way..."

"Yes, way! And of all people—I should've gotten a raise instead of this crap! I'm the best employee old Miss Suzy's ever had."

Sacha doesn't reply.

"Who else has she cut?" I wonder out loud.

"I don't know," Sacha assures. "But maybe if business starts picking up again, things will be back to normal."

But I'm not listening. "I bet she's selling out," I say. "I bet she finally racked up enough money to get out of the biz, and now we have to suffer for it!"

"Beverly—"

"No, think about it!" I press. "Miss Suzy's had this business since the dawn of time! She owns this whole building—think about the giant check that comes in the mail every month. And Miss Suzy always drinks Sierra Mist instead of Sprite, so you know she's pinching those pennies, and—"

"Bev." Sacha takes my shoulders and a pitying look weighs on her features. "I know it hurts. This has been your only job since high school. It's got to be hard losing it."

I bristle. "I couldn't care less about this old place!"

But suddenly, I almost feel like crying. As if I actually do care. I don't. Do I?

I tell myself that the only reason I wouldn't want to leave is because Sacha works here.

I straighten. "Well, you can say what you want, but I'm not letting Miss Suzy get the best of me."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to go replace all the dry-erase markers with Sharpies."