(no subject)
I’ve always been a big fan of conspiracy theories, such as “big brother.” They have always been so exciting to me. However, they were exciting because, deep down, I knew they were not true. Or are they? I have had my run in with what I believe to be a government conspiracy. I finally figured out how they have been watching me. They were good, but I was better . . . sort of. How do I know this you ask? Well, it all started a week ago, when I was pulling into my favorite parking spot at work.
It was a day like any other. I had made it to work with four minutes to spare, as always. I got out of Donna (my 2003 silver Dodge Neon), locker her up, then walked up to the big red, white, and somewhat blue building in which I work. Yes, that’s right. I have a very patriotic job, K-mart associate. I walked into the store, got the normal ‘Hi’ from the women at the service desk, then walked over to the time clock to punch in. But something wasn’t right here, the time clock screen was not on the computer. There could only be two reasons this happened: 1. Someone was in a rush and accidentally exited the screen. 2. Espionage. I looked around for shady figures. There was a checkout operator at register two, the customer service lady, and her customer. He was wearing a suit under a long trench coat, dark sunglasses, a fedora hat, and what looked like a microphone in his ear. “Oh well,” I thought, “Nothing out of the ordinary here.”
I walked to the back room to hang my coat, said the normal formalities to my bosses, “Vito, looking sharp. Jessica, did you lose weight? Glenn . . . um . . . hi.” After that I hit the sales floor. I get to work in electronics, which in K-mart terms is “the coolest freaking department.” I stepped up to my hairy co. worker, Sheri, and grab the keys from her.
“Sheri, looking quite hairy, I mean snazzy today. Snazzy.”
“Aw, thanks. Here are the keys. By the way, Jackie isn’t here today.”
WHAT?! I quickly smiled and waved. Jackie is the loss prevention officer (K-marts fancy way of saying security) and she was always there. There could only be two possible explanations for this: 1. She was sick and had to call in. 2. Espionage. I looked around again to find something weird . . . nothing. However, customer service ladies’ customer had wondered back to my department, by the CD’s. That guy had a lot of class, he was dressed to kill and he was standing halfway in the aisle where he thought I couldn’t see him staring at me. He must have been impressed by the manly physique. Them five push ups every other Tuesday are helping out if I do say so myself. He kept whispering into his shirt though, that was kind of odd. Wait a minute . . . odd . . . something odd . . . he was a SPY! When I realized this, I didn’t let on that I knew, just what I needed, a spy to know I knew he was a spy. I stayed very calm. I said, very gently, “Gee, I hope there aren’t any spies here . . . ” He looked up, I ran.
I ended up hiding by the paint. One of the cans had fallen off the shelves and there was paint everywhere. I didn’t clean it up partly because I was scared the spy would get me . . . also I was the one who knocked it over when I was running over here screaming. Anyway, needless to say the fumes were getting to me, I as very close to the paint. Lucky for me, before any serious brain damage was done, my boss Vito found me.
“Bryan, what are you doing?” He asked me, putting his hand on my shoulder to let me know he was there. I turned around and started at him blankly, perhaps drooling a bit I don’t quite remember. He slapped me, I snapped out of it. “Now,” he repeated himself, “what are you doing here?”
I leaned in real close to Vito, “He is going to get me.”
“What?” Vito sounded really confused. I felt the need to explain to him the situation, so he could help me out. I started to, but the spy rounded the corner just then. I tried to run, but Vito held onto me. I looked back and shouted in his face “HE IS GOING TO GET ME YOU FOOL.” I pulled my arm out of Vito’s grasp and ran. Luckily, I was able to escape to one of 4 stock rooms, the one I hid it, the bulk stockroom. It was perfect, a lot of big boxes, perfect. I was able to squeeze into a little cubby between a futon and a kitchen table.
I fell asleep in that cubby, for who knows how long, minutes, hours, days, weeks, maybe even years. I dreamed that the government had discovered all the illegal stuff I do on a day to day basis: Downloading music, littering, speeding, that time I called a cop a pig under my breath, and of course, the countless spoons I’ve stolen from many a restaurant. That, however, is a long story for a different time. However, I didn’t feel too bad about hiding out, because I was being paid eight dollars an hour to sleep. If that wasn’t awesome, I don’t know what was. I began to forget about the government and their cover ups in my slumber, till I awoke. I woke to the sound of movement. It felt as thought the box I was leaning against was moving. The reason it felt like that? It was moving. It got ripped out from behind me and I slammed my head on the cement floor. Luckily, I didn’t let the pain get to me. I stood up to come face to face with my co. worker Matt. I looked at him, holding my head, and said very loudly “Ow.” He got the point.
“Dude, what are you doing back here?” He was a small boy, but he had the arm muscle of a mad body builder.
“Matt . . . don’t ever move the box on me like that again.” I was still rubbing the spot on my head where I fell.
“What were you doing back there?” Matt gave me an awkward look . . . he thought I was doing something dirty.
“Calm down, grosso, I was hiding out. I fell asleep. How long was I back there for?”
“Probably like . . . ten minutes.” He was still giving me an awkward look. “Vito told me to come back here and get you. He’s waiting for you by Electronics with some guy. I’ll tell him I found you.” Matt started to walk away. I couldn’t let him tell Vito where I was, Vito was working with ‘them’. There was only one thing to do. “Hey . . . Matt.” I said calmly.
“Yeah,” He turned, and I pounced on him. I tried to tackle him to the ground, it was a struggle, but I was able to keep from crying when he threw me off of him.
“What’s your problem?” He said, started to walk toward me angrily.
“Can’t you see? You fool?” I said this next part with a twitch in my eye, but I was scared. “They got to Vito, and he can’t be trusted. CAN’T YOU SEE?!” Matt started at me with an ‘oh my God he is crazy’ look for about five minutes. Very uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to break the awkward silence that had been started by me. He finally said something . . . something terrible. “Um . . . I’m going to tell Vito you’re back here.”
Damn. I followed him out. Apparently they got to Matt too. I walked with my head down in shame and defeat. When I finally looked up, Vito was standing there. “You got me,” I said, defeated.
“Oh shut up Braun.” Vito looked at the spy next to him. “Sir, what did you need, sir?”
The spy opened his spy mouth and announced my doom. “Do you have the new Dido CD?”
I looked at him like he was crazy. “What?”
“Do you carry Dido?” He smiled.
“Why would a spy want a Dido CD?” I looked at him with hate.
“BRYAN!” Vito yelled. The spy just smiled and stuck his hand up to cut off Vito from yelling at me. “Listen,” The spy stared at me, smiling. “I get that all the time. It’s the clothing, right?” I shook my head yes. “Let me explain. The trench coat is because it’s cold outside. The suit is because I am a lawyer. The hat, well, I just like hats, especially fedora hats. I have sensitive eyes, so that explains the sunglasses. Is that a good enough explanation?” I still wasn’t convinced. I looked down at the microphone on his shirt. He looked down also, “Oh, that is a phone. So, can you tell me, do you carry Dido?”
“Um,” I was still sort of confused. I had been running from a customer the whole time. I was a bad employee. Oh well. “No dude, Dido sucks.” I walked away. I turned back, though, to announce, rather loudly, “I knew you weren’t a spy, you know. I was just kidding.” I went over to the time clock and punched out. As I was walking out the door, I was greeted by Vito at the main doors. He was still upset with me, “where are you going Bryan? You have only been here for 30 minutes. You have five hours to go. Get back here.” I kept walking though, he was just trying to trick me again. I walked up to Donna, unlocked her and got in. I noticed something odd though . . . there was a note on the passenger seat. I picked it up and opened it . . . ‘I’m watching you.’ I looked up, and there was the spy man . . . smiling. I started to hyperventilate. But then I thought about the beginning of this essay, and I decided that it was really cool to be someone who the government had to spy on. I felt very good.