STEIN MART
Spirit stood in the dusty parking lot, toeing a crack in the pavement, staring up at the store he was supposed to be applying for a job at.
"STEIN MART", it said in tall blue letters. It was just a local grocery store, the age of the building half-masked by a bright veneer of blue paint and yellow sale posters.
Spirit was sixteen, just old enough to work, and didn't enjoy the thought of spending his summer in the most boring place in town. But his parents had insisted he start saving money for himself, so a job it was.
Cold air slapped Spirit in the face as he entered the store. A slim boy who looked even younger than Spirit was standing behind the single register, prematurely gray hair limply framing his face.
"Welcome to Stein Mart home of the lowest prices in town guaranteed how may I help you today," said the boy. His voice was toneless and dull, and he didn't bother to inject verbal pauses like commas or periods into his obviously well-rehearsed speech.
"Uh…right. You guys are taking job applications, right?" Spirit replied uncertainly. Something about the kid behind the register was throwing him off, but he couldn't but a finger on what it was.
"Consult the manager," the boy said in the same toneless voice, and pointed at what appeared to be a closet-sized cubicle a few yards away.
"Thanks…" Spirit said slowly. What a weird kid.
Mr. Stein, it turned out, was a far less unsettling individual than the boy that turned out to be his son. His office barely had room for two people, but the man himself was very friendly.
"I came to pick up an application," Spirit started after he had been ushered into a folding chair.
"Sure, sure," Mr. Stein replied easily. Spirit would soon find that pleasant easiness was the elder Stein's nature…but the same could not be said for his son. Spirit was properly introduced to him on his first day of work.
"This is my boy, Franken. He helps around the store." Spirit waved half-heartedly to Franken and received a blank stare in return.
"You look a little young to be on the payroll," Spirit joked weakly.
"It's the family business. I'm not on the payroll," had been Franken's dull response. For some reason, Mr. Stein had found this exchange hysterical.
STEIN MART
Spirit headed for the back of the store, followed by a thus far extremely impatient elderly woman.
"I think it's back here…uh…next to the canned vegetables?..."
Spirit didn't actually have a clue about where anything was in the store at that point in his employment, but the elderly customer had been very insistent that he help her and, after perusing three aisles unsuccessfully, Spirit was beginning to fear a complaint to his boss.
"Uh…" he said again as they rounded the corner to a new aisle. The woman opened her mouth to reprimand Spirit's unhelpfulness, but was beaten to it by a much duller voice.
"Verbal pauses aren't very professional Spirit," Franken said blandly. He was restocking the canned peas.
"Oh, Franken," cooed the woman, any impatience in her posture melting away as she turned to him. "Be a good boy and tell us where the evaporated milk is. We've been looking for it for ages, haven't we—" she leaned into Spirit's personal space to read his 'hello, my name is' tag and then continued in the slowest and most derisive voice possible, "Spir-it."
"The end of the aisle," Franken replied as Spirit's face slowly turned red. "Where it always is."
"Of course," crooned the woman, and reached out, presumably to tousle Franken's hair. The boy took a wide step to the left to avoid her touch.
"I don't think you should be leaving the register Spirit," he said as though he hadn't moved at all.
Spirit just sighed. It had only been a week and he hated his job already.