He looked around; he didn’t want to be here at all.
Scooter had been completely content with his lifestyle, but his Dad saw things differently; he thought it would do him good if he got a job. He knew that if Dad was to get his way everything would change horribly.
Finally, after a lot of bad feelings and countless arguments he had agreed to visit the local job centre. He sat now waiting to be called. If he could get through this… His name was called. “Nigel Brenton to desk number three please. Mr Nigel Brenton.” It took him a moment to realise they meant him. Nobody called him Nigel any more. Of course Scooter was only his surfing nickname, but all the same it made him shudder to think he was a Nigel.
He sauntered through and found desk three. The woman looked up with a broad welcoming smile. “Take a seat.” She tapped a few keys, watching the screen. “OK.” She checked the papers in front of her. “What can we do for you today?”
“Like I told the lady up at the front counter I have to find a job.”
“Ah! Very good, that’s what we’re here for.”
Shooter gazed around the building. “Will this take long?”
The woman looked surprised. “Why, are you in a hurry?”
“Eh. No, I suppose not.”
She looked annoyed now. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“OK.”
“Currently unemployed?”
“Yep.”
She looked up.
“Yes… I mean yes.”
“And, your last employment.”
“Haven’t had any.”
“You’ve never had a job?”
“No.” He looked around again. “Do you have a coffee machine?”
She started to point across the room, then stopped herself “Mr Brenton…”
“Scooter.”
“Pardon?”
“Scooter. That’s my name. It’s what people call me.”
“Yes, well, that’s as may be, but you are here seeking employment as Mr Nigel Brenton. Is that correct?”
“S’pose so.”
“OK.” She looked at the clock on her screen. “Let’s move on shall we?”
He shrugged. “OK.”
“You say you have never worked. Your records show that you left school four years ago; but you’ve never worked?”
“No. I’ve never felt the need. I mean, it just isn’t me really. I do stuff though. I have a mate who sells surf boards, and he has a board-waxing service. He also mends them. He’s called ‘The Board Guy’. I go out with him sometimes, it’s really cool. He has a Ute and pulls a trailer with all his gear in it. We often get called out…”
She raised a hand to stop him. “Why are you really here Mr Brenton?”
“Well, it’s like I said to the counter lady, I have to find a job.”
“You mean have to, as opposed to want to find a job?”
“Yep. I mean, yes. My old man keeps on about it.” Scooter grinned. “I don’t have to actually find a job, only show up, like I promised.”
The woman sighed and started writing a note in the file.
“Do you have toilets here? I really need to use the toilet.”
The woman stopped writing. She slowly counted up to three in her head. “Well, we do close up at 4:30 and I have two more clients waiting.”
He looked at his watch. It was all about timing he thought. He sat with raised eyebrows, without saying anything.
Finally she said “Yes. If you really need to.” She pointed to a sign in the far corner.
“Thanks.” He got up with a smile and a nod and took off across the room.
Once inside the toilets he found a cubicle and made himself comfortable. Now all he had to do was wait it out. She would get fed up with waiting and he would be put on the back burner. Then, when she was busy dealing with the next in the queue, he could slip away. It was all going to plan nicely.
After a long wait, he stuck his head out and saw that the woman was fully occupied. He walked steadily to the door, then out onto the street.
He was really chuffed with the way it had gone and was still deep in thought congratulating himself as he crossed the main road. Of course he didn’t see ‘The Board Guy’ coming. Hurtling towards him with his Ute and his trailer.
It would remain to be seen which was going to be the more messy… finalising the documentation from his visit to the job centre, or trying to get him up off the road, the Ute and the trailer. There wouldn’t be much in it!