Through a Colander, Tearfully
Al Sortz, mindful of the attention his confessions seemed to be attracting with the high-ups, decided that when it came to filing today’s report the best way to sum up the last couple of hours would be to say they’d been rather strange.
Much to his surprise, Pillsberry had turned up in good time. He hadn’t arrived looking the part of the ideal shop assistant but he didn’t smell of old sweat and semen and that had been a relief. If anything, Pillsberry’s reputation was worse than Christian Ziegenbart imagined. The basic induction training seemed to have been more-or-less hitch free too, with Pillsberry following him around and dutifully looking at everything that was pointed out. The problem was that so far Pillsberry hadn’t once looked at him and hadn’t once uttered a sound.
From the moment he’d come in the door Pillsberry had been looking at the floor. He’d looked up to the extent necessary to make sure he took in everything that he had to, but as far as could be made out, Pillsberry had yet to steal even just a brief glance at his new boss. And he hadn’t said a word. He’d announced his arrival by simply walking in and standing still, gazing not at the displays but at the floor. Sortz had looked up from his work and recognised him and then greeted him in what he imagined was a friendly enough fashion but the only response that had elicited was a nod of the head. And that was all that had been forthcoming since.
After more than two hours of talking to himself Sortz had concluded that the best thing for it would be to tell Pillsberry to man the colanders stand and serve any customers who came in as he’d now been instructed. That seemed the only way to make any progress. And for the last thirty minutes Pillsberry had indeed been standing there behind the counter, eyes cast down, waiting – at least Sortz presumed that was the case – for a customer. Al tried to think of a reasonable explanation for it all.
He hadn’t been unpleasant to Pillsberry although his voice had probably betrayed his frustration after a while. He wasn’t exactly used to this kind of behaviour; as a rule, assistants were keen to get on. But no, he hadn’t been unpleasant and besides, Pillsberry had been behaving oddly from the moment he arrived.
It was true Pillsberry was known to be a weirdo. Al wondered whether that was enough of a reason, but it didn’t ring true. Pillsberry had a reputation for being filthy, thick, cruel and a waster. Everyone knew he was a crushingly boring, boastful fool who’d drone on for ever about what he was going to do when he inherited what he called his rightful position. And everyone knew that whenever he didn’t get his way he’d whine on about it incessantly. The servile, supine character standing across the shop from him hadn’t said anything. Pillsberry wasn’t living up to his reputation in the slightest. This behaviour wasn’t what anyone would have predicted.
Briefly, it crossed Al’s mind that maybe Pillsberry thought it was a naff job, but for Al that made no sense whatsoever. Sortz himself had started out on colanders and he’d never once complained. The products were good quality, the people who bought them were as polite and interesting as historical curios customers always are, the hours were regular and the credits weren’t bad. In fact when the time had come he’d been a little sad to move on to bigger responsibilities. Al did wonder whether it was the plain shock of having to get a job but he figured Ziegenbart must have told his son what was happening and besides, Pillsberry didn’t look shocked as such.
Sortz wondered how he’d describe how Pillsberry did look and started to stare at him, searching for a clue. Catatonic came to mind as a useful kind of word to use but he wasn’t wholly sure what it meant. He resolved to look it up before the end of the day. The shop was empty. Mid-afternoon was generally a quiet time. Al started day-dreaming; he wondered whether Pillsberry would have a novelty value once it became generally known that he’d had to get a job. It could be good for business if people came to gloat. On the other hand it might keep them away in droves.
Sortz reached over and switched the background music and sales patter loops off without really thinking. He’d never admit it but he detested the very notion of themed shop floor aural enhancement. He turned it off most afternoons. The fake kitchen aromas were fine; the pots and pans clanking as voice-overs jabbered on incessantly really grated his nerves. Reg had never squealed on him. Good ol’ Reg. His fondness for him was growing as time passed. As he realised what he’d done he looked across at Pillsberry, expecting a reaction to this outlandish, illegal action. He had nothing to worry about. Pillsberry remained motionless.
Al continued to stare. As his ears became accustomed to the silence, he thought he could hear something, a faint noise coming from the colanders stand – a kind of snivelling. He contrived to move around a little without appearing to be trying, but he couldn’t manoeuvre himself so he could see Pillsberry’s face. He wondered what would happen if the door alert went off and started staring at the entrance, willing someone to come in. Finally, exasperated, he walked purposefully over to the door and opened and close it himself. The alert sounded and Pillsberry, as he’d been instructed to, looked over. Al was ready for him. Their eyes met. Pillsberry looked at him, looked down at the ‘Al’s The Man To Help You’ emblazoned on the leather tabard Sortz was wearing and realised his mistake. To Al’s amazement, Pillsberry darted forward, picked up a colander and held it up in front of his face. Al couldn’t take it any more.
“Just what in the name of all the foul winds that are blowing outside this Mall is the matter with you?” Al was shouting.
Pillsberry responded by holding the colander even more closely to this head. His face was now actually inside it. Sortz could see it shaking. He softened his tone. “Aw, c’mon. It surely isn’t that bad here. What’s the matter?”
There was a long pause. Then, very quietly and with a tremor in his voice and without removing his makeshift mask, Pillsberry responded: “You’re very big.”
Al was totally caught out by Pillsberry’s first words. He looked down at himself. He was big. Over two metres and bulky too. He’d pumped a lot of iron in his youth and still worked out three times a week. “Well, now you mention it, yes, I suppose I am. So what?”
The colander shook some more. Pillsberry’s voice switched from a barely audible tremble to a rising wail. “You’re going to be disciplining me and it’ll hurt and I don’t want to get hurt and I’m scared!”
The final couple of words were so loud Al flinched. It all began to fall into place. He remembered Christian’s instruction to treat his Pillsberry like he would any other assistant. “That’s right, it’s my responsibility to discipline you. That’s perfectly normal you know. What’s the problem?”
Pillsberry’s voice now had so much of a tremor in it he was almost stammering. “What, what form does this discipline take?”
“Oh, nothing unusual. This is a shop like any other. There’re no special rules for Hardware. You’ve been drilled in the code haven’t you?” Al was presuming Pillsberry, like all other assistants, had been taught the basics of training, discipline and punishment in the satellite school devoted to the subjects. Pillsberry didn’t have a clue. His ideas of punishment and discipline had been picked up from orgies in the N.E.L. and there you only got what you paid for.
“No, I don’t know anything.” Pillsberry had returned to ear-splitting wailing.
Sortz sat down heavily and sighed. He could see it was going to be a long job training this one. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d employed the physical discipline sanctions allowed to him as a manager. The code did detail some, but on the whole credit deductions and menial tasks sufficed. It was an accepted fact among managers that assistants are so keen to get on they preferred being clobbered to being poor. He decided he wouldn’t mention this to Pillsberry.
“I’ll get you a copy of the code. You’d better study it very closely. After all, it’s what’s going to govern your life from now on.” As he spoke he could see tears coming through the holes of the colander Pillsberry was still holding over his face. Al groaned and wondered how detailed he was going to have to make his confessions from now on.
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