Journal Walmart Security's Journal: The Introduction of Robert [draft] 1
My weathered hand rested effortlessly on the blue EZSECURE patrol cart's steering device as the blinding incandescence of a Chevrolet SUV's headlights temporarily rendered me unable to see. Inconsiderate out-of-towners who never respected the law, probably. After it had vacated the premises and the slight glimmer of light eminating from the moon was all that remained, I realized that it was 11:30, the official beginning of my shift at the local Walmart. It would last until the early morning hours when the sun would rise and Brady would arrive to relieve me of my sworn duty: protect the Walmart and its patrons with my life. I would then return to my residence here in the relatively small town of Jasper, Texas to prepare for another patrol.
Fortunately, as of an hour later, my patrol might not longer evoke the ennui that it had for the past fifteen years. After fifty years of service, The EZSECURE Corporation was entrusting me with the prodigious task of training an aspiring security guard on site as my seventieth birthday present! I could hardly wait to meet my proteg. This was unquestionably the most exciting thing I had experienced since the Country Music Fair was held here in 1978. Ah, the memories... I digress.
I applied the brake gently and disabled the golf cart's electric motor. "Use that there break real gently now," my supervisor had told me years ago, when the golf carts were new. "If you don't, it'll get old quicker and cost EZSECURE more funds." At the time, I assured him that his advice was nothing more than an old wife's tale, but he threatened me in his most intimidating (and greatly accentuated) voice with demotion. I complied only because I had no intention of becoming a security camera operator again. The Walmart's warm air welcomed my frail, wrinkled body as I walked briskly through the automatic door, my black and gray hair blowing uncontrollably due to the amount of air travelling through the door. It smelled of plastic and hand cream, but even the smell of dead fish would be more pleasant than the utterly glacial conditions outside. "Morning Kevin," I said to the Home and Gardens cashier, who rarely, if ever, replied vocally to my greetings. I suspected that he must have been a hippie, because the twentysomething blond would reply with some sort of peace symbol using his middle finger, but this morning he was uncharacteristically fatigued. Perhaps he'd fallen victim to drugs, like so many other children today with deadbeat parents. Apparently he'd arrived only moments prior, for he hadn't even powered up his electronic cash register.
After exiting the pseudo-warehouse where Kevin was assigned, I continued walking until I reached the twenty-four hour McDonalds nestled safely inside of the Walmart. As always, I purchased an eight ounce cup of freshly brewed coffee. Not only would the caffeine assist me in remaining alert during the morning hours, but I believed the coffee's inherent warmth would enable me to carry out my nightly tasks and, if necessary, defend Walmart from aggressors.
"Peter? Peter Geralds?" an unconfident voice queried from behind me. I drew a can of mace and turned expediously, nearly emptying the hot drink on my uniform in the process. The boy jumped back, realizing that I wasn't fond of surprises. EZSECURE had trained me to react with the mace in a millisecond.
"Yes sir, that's me," I replied politely as I placed the can of mace back into my pocket. This boy wasn't a threat. After all, would a malevolent criminal be wearing an EZSECURE uniform? Certainly not. "I'm sorry about that. What can I do for you?"
"I'm Robert. Manager Bob ordered me to report to you for training." The cadet wasn't exactly what I'd anticipated. He was lanky, probably around 6'2" in stature, with blonde hair that appeared quite dark under the dimmed flourescent lights overhead.
I stepped closer to him and held out my hand. "Nice to meet you," I told him with utmost confidence.
Shaking my hand, he hesitated to reply until we'd finished. "Likewise, Peter." I picked up my coffee again and we began walking back to the Home and Gardens area of Walmart. While we were in transit, he explained that he'd been born in Japan and that his parents had immigrated to the United States shortly thereafter. "If you're Japanese, why did your parents name you Robert?" I asked him inquisitively. It certainly intrigued me that he'd not been assigned a Japanese name, for many of them were quite interesting to a layman such as myself. Whereas I'd be more inclined to name my child "Bobby-Sue," people who weren't native Jasper residents often chose poetic, interesting names for their offspring.
"They were very worried that I wouldn't fit in with other children," he informed me. Logical, I thought. Robert spoke both English and Japanese fluently; perhaps he would be an invaluable negotiator if we were ever held hostage by Japanese terrorists.
The golf cart was barely twenty feet away. "Let's start your training," I suggested as I took another drink of my coffee. "Welcome to the security business."
Fortunately, as of an hour later, my patrol might not longer evoke the ennui that it had for the past fifteen years. After fifty years of service, The EZSECURE Corporation was entrusting me with the prodigious task of training an aspiring security guard on site as my seventieth birthday present! I could hardly wait to meet my proteg. This was unquestionably the most exciting thing I had experienced since the Country Music Fair was held here in 1978. Ah, the memories... I digress.
I applied the brake gently and disabled the golf cart's electric motor. "Use that there break real gently now," my supervisor had told me years ago, when the golf carts were new. "If you don't, it'll get old quicker and cost EZSECURE more funds." At the time, I assured him that his advice was nothing more than an old wife's tale, but he threatened me in his most intimidating (and greatly accentuated) voice with demotion. I complied only because I had no intention of becoming a security camera operator again. The Walmart's warm air welcomed my frail, wrinkled body as I walked briskly through the automatic door, my black and gray hair blowing uncontrollably due to the amount of air travelling through the door. It smelled of plastic and hand cream, but even the smell of dead fish would be more pleasant than the utterly glacial conditions outside. "Morning Kevin," I said to the Home and Gardens cashier, who rarely, if ever, replied vocally to my greetings. I suspected that he must have been a hippie, because the twentysomething blond would reply with some sort of peace symbol using his middle finger, but this morning he was uncharacteristically fatigued. Perhaps he'd fallen victim to drugs, like so many other children today with deadbeat parents. Apparently he'd arrived only moments prior, for he hadn't even powered up his electronic cash register.
After exiting the pseudo-warehouse where Kevin was assigned, I continued walking until I reached the twenty-four hour McDonalds nestled safely inside of the Walmart. As always, I purchased an eight ounce cup of freshly brewed coffee. Not only would the caffeine assist me in remaining alert during the morning hours, but I believed the coffee's inherent warmth would enable me to carry out my nightly tasks and, if necessary, defend Walmart from aggressors.
"Peter? Peter Geralds?" an unconfident voice queried from behind me. I drew a can of mace and turned expediously, nearly emptying the hot drink on my uniform in the process. The boy jumped back, realizing that I wasn't fond of surprises. EZSECURE had trained me to react with the mace in a millisecond.
"Yes sir, that's me," I replied politely as I placed the can of mace back into my pocket. This boy wasn't a threat. After all, would a malevolent criminal be wearing an EZSECURE uniform? Certainly not. "I'm sorry about that. What can I do for you?"
"I'm Robert. Manager Bob ordered me to report to you for training." The cadet wasn't exactly what I'd anticipated. He was lanky, probably around 6'2" in stature, with blonde hair that appeared quite dark under the dimmed flourescent lights overhead.
I stepped closer to him and held out my hand. "Nice to meet you," I told him with utmost confidence.
Shaking my hand, he hesitated to reply until we'd finished. "Likewise, Peter." I picked up my coffee again and we began walking back to the Home and Gardens area of Walmart. While we were in transit, he explained that he'd been born in Japan and that his parents had immigrated to the United States shortly thereafter. "If you're Japanese, why did your parents name you Robert?" I asked him inquisitively. It certainly intrigued me that he'd not been assigned a Japanese name, for many of them were quite interesting to a layman such as myself. Whereas I'd be more inclined to name my child "Bobby-Sue," people who weren't native Jasper residents often chose poetic, interesting names for their offspring.
"They were very worried that I wouldn't fit in with other children," he informed me. Logical, I thought. Robert spoke both English and Japanese fluently; perhaps he would be an invaluable negotiator if we were ever held hostage by Japanese terrorists.
The golf cart was barely twenty feet away. "Let's start your training," I suggested as I took another drink of my coffee. "Welcome to the security business."
The Introduction of Robert [draft] More Login
The Introduction of Robert [draft]
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