In which I (attempt) to shed some light on a cardboard villain. Poor guy, he's just misunderstood, you know? (Beyond that, I have no idea where this is going.) Anyway, ya'll know the drill: review—good or bad.
All standard disclaimers apply.
The coffee sure packed a punch. But that was its job, after all—punching people awake at godforsaken hours of the morning.
His own youthful enthusiasm aside, he really didn't know why the hell Superintendant Wilson was so eager to hold a job interview at 8:00 in the morning. He supposed the man was probably inordinately busy, and this inconvenient time was the only slot the Superintendent could squeeze out for a lowly college grad looking for a job. Places to go, people to meet...and since poor Mrs. Fox had chosen an inconvenient year to retire (leaving behind many relieved students as well as a vacant teaching position), Richard Vernon was fairly sure the interview was only a formality. The new school year was drawing close, after all, and they needed an English teacher desperately.
Which, of course, is where he came in. He had impeccable credentials in college—granted, his senior year had been a bit more rushed than he'd liked, and he'd had to cut off his internship early to move down to Shermer—and was somewhat experienced in tutoring, having sheperded many freshmen through the ropes at St. Williams University. And anyway, he really didn't see how some high school kids could offer that much trouble—college freshmen were only a year removed, and they hadn't been so bad.
The upshot of it all was, Richard had been looking for a job soon after graduation, and by happy chance stumbled on the Shermer district, with several vacancies needing to be filled. He had a degree in general education, they needed teachers. Naturally, the outcome was him sitting (rather sleepily) in a severe-looking office, awaiting the arrival of the venerable Superintendent Wilson. The man's secretary (who apparently never slept, and had also probably been around since the dinosaurs) had let him in, with a sharp gleam of disapproval in her eye.
Not that it bothered him much. He got the impression that the old granny probably never approved of anyone—well, maybe Superindentent Wilson. But he doubted it. Meanwhile, it was 8:04, and no sign of Wilson showing up yet. Damn. Richard sighed, knowing that it was a bad habit of his to grow inordinately impatient with people who weren't punctual to the dot, even if it was only a difference of four minutes. He'd probably have to fix that at some time. Teenagers were notorious for being late, good or bad excuses both, and it wouldn't do any wonders for building a rapport between himself and his students if he persisted in nitpicking things like punctuality.
Anyway, that came later. For now, all he had to do was look professional (not hard with the good-looking suit he had on—if he did say so himself) and behave like a competent, trustworthy fellow. And the job would be in the bag.
"You won't last, you know. The new ones never last..."
Richard jumped—what? Oh, it was only Wilson's secretary, Mrs. Nesbitt from the nametag on her desk. Well, damn. Barely in the door and someone had already pronounced his gloomy fate. He hated it when old, excuse me, senior citizens passed snap judgments on younger people like him. Sure, they had the vast experience and all that, but the world ran on the backs of the youthful (probably all at least 100 years younger than Mrs. Nesbitt here) and damned if he was going to blindly accept what some old lady with a cane was telling him.
Then again, he had heard legends about Mrs. Nesbitt—about her near-legendary ability to pinpoint a person's character in one glance, an ability probably honed by years and years of experience. The woman had been here before Wilson himself, for crying out loud.
Oh, hell. She didn't think he'd last? Well, he'd show her. It wasn't like he was some wet-behind-the-ears amateur, either. He had his B.A. and B.S. and two months spent teaching at an elementary school as part of his degree program. Not to mention a year of being a professor's teaching assistant and tutoring kids on the side to boot. No, if Mrs. Nesbitt thought she had his future pinned, she was in for a hell of a surprise. Richard determined not to back down. He would last, and teach those students so bloody well, the state standardized tests wouldn't know what had hit them.
"Vernon! So glad you could make it, how was the drive over?"
At last, it was the Superintendent himself, large and hearty and rather encouraging for a young man just starting out at the bottom of the totem pole. He was a refreshing change from the dour atmosphere that surrounded Mrs. Nesbitt, and anyway the man represented the opportunity for employment. Suck it up? Why yes, of course.
"Not bad, I didn't run into any traffic, surprisingly. And you?"
Well, what do you think? Think I'm portraying Young Vernon accurately? Should I load the irony on more heavily? Let me know, I welcome all criticism.