My Disobedient Boss

[SENTENCES INSIDE THIS FORMAT= *”--”* ARE SIGNED AND NOT SPOKEN]

Alexis Solace [1ST PERSON P.O.V]

“LISTEN TO ME WHEN I’M TALKING, YOU B*TCH!” was what I read from her lips. She looked red in the face, and her neck was strained, so I was 100% certain she was yelling.

Time seemed to slow down when I watched yet another customer cuss me out. Throwing out the contents of her shopping cart at me. I raised my hands defensively, trying to shield my face from a flying frozen pack of salami. Those can be very hard, more so because she just took that out of the freezer.

‘sh*t.’

As always, these people usually make the most noise. She must’ve been loud enough that she garnered the attention of the other shoppers.

I didn’t read being ‘publicly harassed and humiliated’ in the job description when I first applied as a staff in this grocery. They should really be transparent with the job details.

Like a superhero, I saw my superior swoop into the scene. I wiped the sweat on my brow with the back of my hand. His back was turned to me while he tried to de-escalate the rampage of a big bad monster taking the form of this one terrible, entitled old woman. She didn’t seem all that pleased when she finally left. In fact, she didn’t even take her cart with her. She just stormed off.

With what I could only guess was a heavy sigh, my manager turned to me. I gave him my usual deadpan expression. A reflex as a result of confrontation.

“In my office; come with me,” he said. His face was defeated.

I followed him, nodding to the onlooking customers, who offered me a sympathetic smile. In his office, Carl, my manager, massaged his temples. “It’s not your fault again… I suppose?” he said.

I frowned, pulling out my phone to sound out the words, “What do you think?” courtesy of the app my brother told me about, hastily pressing the sound for “sir” to finish that sentence so he doesn’t think I disrespect him.

He hummed with a nod, a thumb on his chin, “Y’see… aren’t these things happening way too frequently? Are you sure it’s the customer?” he asked.

I’m usually expressive because of the signing. Regardless, I admit to also having a case of the infamous ‘Resting B*tch face.’

Despite that, he and I both know I’ve mastered the customer service smile. It’s just I have trouble giving a smile to a customer when I don’t even know that the customer is interacting with me.

“I was just one pat away from being able to help,” the phone souned, I typed as fast as I could to say the words with the mechanical tone of the robotic voice, or so I’d been told, “she could’ve just tapped my shoulder–”

“I get it, I know–I know, but…” he stopped, “with all these things happening over and over—it’s affecting the name of the store,” he said. I saw him gulp after finishing that sentence.

‘Oh, man–’

He seemed uncomfortable as he uttered the next few words, “You… can stop coming to work starting tomorrow.”

I stared at his face. Wondering what sort of expression I wore, was I angry? Was I disgusted at this sorry excuse of a man? Was I desolate? I wonder…

Standing up from my seat, I gave him a court nod before slamming the door as hard as I could when I left. I may not hear it, but I hope he did, and I hope the sound annoyed him to no end. I went to my locker, gathered my things, changed my clothes, and left through the backdoor.

‘Some superhero.’

Thank goodness this is just a side job. Mainly, I work as an administrator in the city library. You could say that was a job tailored to me. I have a talent for keeping our published documents. Making sure our library is up to date is also important. We’re close to a college, so we’ve become quite the research hotspot.

I loved my work as a librarian, but… as one would’ve guessed, it’s not one that pays a lot. If only it was, then I wouldn’t have to look for other stupid jobs, wasting my time like this.

‘How many times do I have to go through this kind of sh*t, again, and again, and again… and again—’

I saw a car slowly drive beside me while I strolled along the sidewalk. I knew this car. It was the usual car these mobs use whenever they need to bother us for more cash. The tinted windows rolled down, showing these rugged men wearing suits,

*“S’up, Lexis? You out on a walk?”* Connor asked.

He didn’t even get out of the vehicle. The driver just matched the pace I walked. Connor Milvac is a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and apparently the head of these goons. Their presence was annoying but somewhat bearable. For f*ck’s sake, his crew learned sign language so they could properly wrangle me off my family’s finances. Talk about inclusive haggling.

I respect the dedication, but to think I’d get to see that from frigging loan-shark mobsters. *“I got fired,”* I signed. He frowned, flinching back,

*“You what?!”* he seemed to exclaim, just as upset about this as I was. *“I thought that ‘Carl’ dude was a good guy? Why’d he fire you, anyway?”* he asked, his hand movements all over the place with frustration.

*“A customer got mad at me again. He says it’s giving the store a bad rep,”* I replied,

I saw him click his tongue, rolling his eyes as he turned to the driver as if to catch him up with our gossip before turning back to me. *“What a d*ck,”* he cursed, chin jutted out, and I chuckled, nodding to agree.

*“I guess I’ll ask for another extension on that deposit then,”* I said with a shrug.

He waved me off, *“Don’t think about it. Get a new job; show me your paycheck, and we’ll talk it over,”* he signed.

I laughed at his playful expressions, and I nodded *“Yeah, okay, thank you, Connor,”* I said.

He nodded, *“Right, you need a ride?”* he asked, but I only shook my head. With one last wave, they moved along the road.

He’s quite a funny man, Connor. He was nice to my mother as well. 

‘Maybe it’s because he pitied us.’

Trying to live paycheck after paycheck despite our shortcomings and paying our father’s debt on top of that. My father died when I was twelve, and my brother, Alexander, was six at the time. From what my memory recalls, he seemed like a good guy. He seemed like a good dad. But according to my mother, back then, he was a big gambler. Allegedly, he kept his gambling at a minimum, and there were barely any problems in our household, even in terms of money.

Boy, was she so wrong…

The man was a gambling ad**ct. The only reason Mom didn’t feel the financial strain during that time was because he kept borrowing money from these shady mobsters.

Lo and behold… on top of everyday expenses and monthly bills, we have this tantamount debt of a whopping 30 million dollars.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and my brother’s name appeared in my notifications. He only told me to meet him at the diner close to his workplace. From what I remember, today would be his payday, and he usually takes us out for dinner as a treat. He tries to help with our expenses despite my reluctance.

He also does these family dates and has something good to look forward to every once in a while. He’s a good kid. Compared to me, he’s only hard of hearing. A hearing aid gave him a good enough fix. This gave him more employment options, which I’m absolutely thankful for. At least he doesn’t have to live the way I do.

I took a bus to the diner. Maybe he already called Mom as well. It wouldn’t be fun if we were not complete as a family enjoying his hard-earned paycheck.

I chuckled at the thought.

The commute didn’t take long, but the skies had already darkened, and I was left waiting by the front of the store. I was on my phone, putting on earbuds. I do this so I have an excuse not to speak to anyone and for people to know I won’t be hearing them.

It’s effective in keeping away conversations, but on the odd times that someone goes out of their way to talk to me, it’s a bit awkward to sign and tell them that I’m only wearing earbuds for the look.

Soon enough, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was my brother, who was doubled over and breathing heavily as he heaved with all his might.

*“The heck happened to you?”* I signed, brows knitted.

He rolled his eyes. *“I ran here,”* he replied, making me roll my eyes as well,

*“Well, duh… why the hell were you running in the first place?”* I chided. He nudged me inside the restaurant, sat me down on a vacant table, and ordered food for us both. When he returned, drenched in sweat, I got worried.

‘What is happening? Why is he so anxious?’

He placed his workbag on the table and pulled out a folder, putting it down and sliding it over to me. My gaze shifted between him and the document he showed me. It was an ad for a job vacancy in…

*“Your company?”* I asked, surprised he even thought I’d be able to get into that. They’re known for only hiring the ‘elite’ workers. It’s hard to get into as a fresh grad, and the boss is known for being erratic.

I think the words used were ‘insane’ and a little ‘loony.’ Something that’s not a good mix with someone like me.

He nodded, “I have a good feeling this time—the man on top, our CEO…. uhm… I forgot his name–he just passed this ‘ASL’ proficiency thing–look! It’s right there—”

*“Don’t stop mid-sentence and calm down,”* I signed to interrupt his rambling. He smudged his face to give me the stink eye and only pointed at the document.

During that time, our food came. I took a sip of the drink while reading which spot they were trying to fill—

‘THE SECRETARY?!’ 

I almost spat out my drink.

My brother raised a brow at me in the middle of eating his food. *“What’s wrong now?”* he asked, almost annoyed to look at the surprise on my face as I showed him the document.

*“You want me to apply there as the CEO’s secretary!?”* I exclaimed.

He cringed, bothered by my overreaction. *“No sh*t, that’s why I showed you—look, if you’re worried about the requirements, don’t,”* he began, shoveling a spoonful of his food down his mouth before freeing his hands completely.

*“Our boss is kind of an oddball; he likes what he likes, he hates what he hates, and what he hates is noise. Why do you think he made us all learn sign language? Plus, you’ve been a secretary before–”*

*“FOR A PRINCIPAL!”* I countered, that shouldn’t even count. I only worked there for seven months!

He waved me off. *“Whatever, if you got the job, you could kiss that debt goodbye and buy a luxury sports car. Just try it,”* he encouraged. My eyes shifted to the stupid look on his face.

‘He’s got this optimism from mom, huh.’

My forehead wrinkled at the thought, tracing my fingertips at the words ‘secretary.’ He’s right. There aren’t written or specified qualifications they’re looking for. How could they possibly find the perfect secretary for a man with that kind of reputation?

I sighed. *“Fine… when’s the interview?”* I asked, setting the folder aside so I could start eating in peace.

My brother wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, looking up as if to recall, and the words that left his mouth left me in a daze.

“Oh… uh, it’s tomorrow.”