Recruitment alternatives
Apr. 22nd, 2008 03:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbg"Do you want fries with that?"
McHungry's newest employee ground her teeth audibly as she repeated that loathsome statement One More Time. She raised her eyes to find the manager--a pale, sweaty, overweight, 30-something failure--regarding her anxiously. He could hear her teeth grinding and wondered if anyone else could. Certainly no-one had yet commented on her claws and scales, and he could only assume the sulphurous stench was being dismissed as the inevitable side effect of reheating McHungry's Super Special Secret Sauce(tm) a few too many times.
Or perhaps she really did seem like a normal teenaged McHungry's employee to everyone else. That was part of the pact he'd made with that creepy recruitment consultant who'd come around last week. Sure, some of the terms of the contract were a little unexpected (he couldn't play chess and was required to substitute a few rounds of paper/rock/scissors), but he hadn't been manager for very long and it was absolutely impossible to find staff these days. His job was on the line and he'd been prepared to try anything. Unlike the underaged workers he sought, his own employment options were few, and Mum was getting a little pointed in her "empty nest" statements lately.
And she'd mixed his reds and whites in the wash a couple of weeks ago. He fumed at the unlikely scenario that anyone bar his mother and himself would see his now-pink underwear in the foreseeable future.
His thoughts were interrupted by the remarkable hostility expressed in the phrase "Have a Happy McHungry's Day(tm)" and glanced up to find Little Miss Demon not smiling at the customer as per Rule #3 of the McHungry's Customer Interaction Manual, but rather staring at him hungrily. Little Miss Demon, he repeated to himself without conviction, hoping without hope that the epithet would shore up his rapidly failing courage. Little Miss... oh no.
All he had to do to keep the bond was stay confident, the agent had said. It seemed easy at the time. Confident. Yeah.
A glistening thread of drool emerged from the new employee's mouth. It was mirrored by the dozen threads of sweat that appeared suddenly on the manager's pasty forehead.
Little Miss Demon he shouted boldly, but no sound emerged. I am your Manager!
She removed her hair net, and dropped it pointedly to the floor. She slowly unpeeled the gaily-coloured McHungry's apron from her powerful sinuous body, held it up by a single claw, and then set it alight with a glance.
"Why yes," she hissed softly as she approached the terrified man, "I will have fries with that."
--
Yes, actual very short fiction, more or less off the cuff just now, so I'm likely to be editing the typos a few times. Thoughts?
McHungry's newest employee ground her teeth audibly as she repeated that loathsome statement One More Time. She raised her eyes to find the manager--a pale, sweaty, overweight, 30-something failure--regarding her anxiously. He could hear her teeth grinding and wondered if anyone else could. Certainly no-one had yet commented on her claws and scales, and he could only assume the sulphurous stench was being dismissed as the inevitable side effect of reheating McHungry's Super Special Secret Sauce(tm) a few too many times.
Or perhaps she really did seem like a normal teenaged McHungry's employee to everyone else. That was part of the pact he'd made with that creepy recruitment consultant who'd come around last week. Sure, some of the terms of the contract were a little unexpected (he couldn't play chess and was required to substitute a few rounds of paper/rock/scissors), but he hadn't been manager for very long and it was absolutely impossible to find staff these days. His job was on the line and he'd been prepared to try anything. Unlike the underaged workers he sought, his own employment options were few, and Mum was getting a little pointed in her "empty nest" statements lately.
And she'd mixed his reds and whites in the wash a couple of weeks ago. He fumed at the unlikely scenario that anyone bar his mother and himself would see his now-pink underwear in the foreseeable future.
His thoughts were interrupted by the remarkable hostility expressed in the phrase "Have a Happy McHungry's Day(tm)" and glanced up to find Little Miss Demon not smiling at the customer as per Rule #3 of the McHungry's Customer Interaction Manual, but rather staring at him hungrily. Little Miss Demon, he repeated to himself without conviction, hoping without hope that the epithet would shore up his rapidly failing courage. Little Miss... oh no.
All he had to do to keep the bond was stay confident, the agent had said. It seemed easy at the time. Confident. Yeah.
A glistening thread of drool emerged from the new employee's mouth. It was mirrored by the dozen threads of sweat that appeared suddenly on the manager's pasty forehead.
Little Miss Demon he shouted boldly, but no sound emerged. I am your Manager!
She removed her hair net, and dropped it pointedly to the floor. She slowly unpeeled the gaily-coloured McHungry's apron from her powerful sinuous body, held it up by a single claw, and then set it alight with a glance.
"Why yes," she hissed softly as she approached the terrified man, "I will have fries with that."
--
Yes, actual very short fiction, more or less off the cuff just now, so I'm likely to be editing the typos a few times. Thoughts?
