Mike Schmidt's life was about what you would expect from a high school dropout with no money, no work, and parents that hated him. The month was halfway through and if he couldn't come up with 120 dollars at the end of it, he would be on the streets. He was about to give up his nightly job hunting, when by pure chance, he came across an ad that read "NIGHT GUARD WANTED FOR FREDDY FAZBEAR'S FAMILY PIZZERIA! 4 DOLLARS AN HOUR THE FIRST WEEK, 10 DOLLARS AFTER! CALL 803-341-FAZBEAR! APPLY NOW!"
Mike's heart nearly jumped for joy after he read the words from the paper. Sure, the pay was right at minimum wage, but he would be able to pay off his rent. That alone made him run home and call the number now etched in his mind.
The second he raced into his apartment, Mike locked the door and grabbed his phone off the charger. He punched the numbers into the keypad and listened to the monotone ringing.
After what felt like an eternity, a deep, southern accent picked up on the other end. "Hello, you've reached Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, a place where fantasy and fun come to life. How can I help you?" The voice was worn, as if he was just tired of answering the phone and saying that line.
"Hello!" Mike answered with enthusiasm. "I'm calling for the night guard position?" The man immediately perked up. Oh! Ok, awesome! Just come tomorrow morning, say, eleven? Mike's jaw could've dropped down to the cheap tile floor if that was humanly possible. "Yes, yes! I'll be there eleven o' clock sharp, tomorrow morning!
"Alright, see you then!" David Fasbar hung up from his office at Freddy's. He sighed with relief that he had filled the position before the next night. That last night guard had run out yet again. His brow furrowed from the thought of the other ones. How many had it been now? 30? 40, maybe? Well, at least I'll have him for another night.
Mike set a timer on his phone for nine o' clock sharp, and set it down. He did not even think about putting it on the charging cord. On his face a wide smile was displayed for his unexplainable change in luck. He nearly skipped to bed, jumping under the covers of his mattress. It was only a mattress and a blanket, that's how poor he was at the moment. The smile remained on his face until he finally drifted of to sleep...
Mike jumped out of his mattress at the ring of his phone sitting mere feet away from his one bedroom apartment. He flew out of bed and into his closet, finding a collared shirt, his nicest one. Not like he could afford more than 6 or 7 shirts anyway. He immediately mentally facepalmed himself at his stupidity. Shower before shirt, idiot! Nothing would stop him from looking perfect on this day, the day of his first job interview in months. Around an hour and a half later, he slipped out the door and into his 1986 Ford truck, which took a minute to start and ran at a top speed of 53 mph. (Mike had tested it on the highway, until parts fell out of the bottom and he called a tow truck).
Mike rolled up to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, a moment he would soon look back on as an old man. He walked into the store, pushing the doors open with confidence. He strode up to the front desk, where a young woman was standing. She gave him a smile and said with pep, "Hello, welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, Where fantasy and fun come to life, what can I do for you on this fine day?" Mike couldn't help but smile at the woman's attitude towards him, he hadn't had this feeling since he ordered Chinese and got a "Thanks for you business!" from the delivery boy. He replied, "I'm here for the night job position, I guess I'm supposed to see the manager?" The woman's smile got even bigger, which surprised Mike. Why would a person working at this level care about the night guard position? Mike shook his skepticism off, and followed the girl back to the managers office.
He stepped into an office marked "Manager David Fasbar, 27 Years of Service." The office itself was quite large, with a mahogany desk taking up at least a quarter of the space. Comfy looking armchairs lined the walls and a large portrait of the animatronics themselves on the wall just above the door. Mike wondered why he would have something like that hanging there, but he brushed it off. "Hello, son! I'm afraid I didn't catch your name last night, could you tell me it now?" The man seemed nice, and Mike couldn't help but like his fatherly mentality. "It's Mike, Mike Schmidt, sir." Mr. Fasbar replied in his southern drawl, "Wonderful, I'm sure you'll fit right into the Fazbear family!" Mike's eyebrows rose to the top of his hairline. "Y-you mean I h-have the job?" Mike stuttered out after a few seconds. Mr. Fasbar chuckled and said, "Yes, you just have to sign here, initial here, sign here, and put your contact info here, then sigh this legal contract, and yes! You'll have the job!" Mike's hand flew over the papers as fast as he could, praying this wasn't a dream. Mr. Fasbar thanked the young man for his compliance (and thanked God in his head that he didn't read the legal form), then sent him on his way.
David breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair. He knew it would be short lived, but he felt a sense of accomplishment at his employment of Mr. Schmidt.
AN: Hey everyone! First fanfic after so long thinking about it! I know this chapter seems kind of short, but I promise to make them longer. Probably going to make the next chapter right now because I'm so excited! This just seemed like a nice stopping point to at least get to the next chapter! Next time will be Mike's first night! See you in the next AN, GameWritingUnleashed signing out.