The newspaper ad seemed too good to be true. A retail job paying over twice minimum wage, with promises of benefits and managerial positions open to long-term workers? There had to be some catch.
But, as Chase's job prospects dwindled and he was faced with the possibility of having to go without a summer job and taking on an even greater bundle of loans instead, the boy decided that he couldn't afford to be picky.
He got a call back the day after sending in his application, and within the week he was face-to-face with the business' owner, a smiling man in monochrome clothes.
Chase extended his hand as he approached. "You must be Mr. Hale." He'd done his research, poked around the website for the company and the franchise until he felt confident that he could sound like he knew what he was talking about.
Their hands clasped only for a moment before the owner broke off the handshake. "Please, call me Alan. And you're- Chase, was it? It's nice to meet you. Please, have a seat."
Chase obediently sat down in the available office chair, which proved surprisingly plush. "It's nice to meet you too, sir."
"Let's get straight to the punch." Alan interlaced his fingers and set his hands on the table, his eyes focused somewhere around Chase's forehead. He was briefly, uncomfortably reminded of the handful of pimples that still resided there. "Why do you want to work here?"
The boy had planned out his answer for this question, had practiced his speech about how he'd always dreamed of being a retail store grunt in front of the mirror over and over again, but in the heat of the moment, his mind went blank. After a brief moment of hesitation, Chase blurted out, "Because I need money and this place seems nice enough."
Chase's gaze dropped to the floor as he realized what he'd just said, who he'd just said it to, how he'd just ruined any chance of his employment, how he was going to be buried in debt forever-
Alan let out a soft laugh. "Good to know you're being honest! Honesty is a virtue, as they say. And let me just say that you're right, this place is nice enough- more than nice enough, if I dare say so myself."
Chase gave off a nervous laugh, his gaze still focused on the floor, intently examining the stains and divots dotting each tile.
"Hey, Chase. It's okay. You can look at me."
Chase glanced upwards and was greeted by friendly eyes.
"Don't be nervous, alright? I want to hire you as much as you want to be hired. I just need to make sure you're the right person for the job."
Chase gave the man a weak nod.
"So, do you have any experience in this sort of position?"
The interview was more of a conversation than an interrogation, and as it went on Chase began to relax, his muscles no longer tensed up, his mind focused less on what all those job search guides he'd read advised him to say and more on just talking with Alan, person-to-person rather than interviewer-to-interviewee. His misgivings melted away as time went by, replaced with certainty that he could handle this, that somehow he had lucked into the perfect position.
Eventually, Alan cleared his throat, a modicum of formality entering his voice once again. "Well, Chase, I believe you're an excellent candidate for the job. I do have some paperwork for you to fill out- let me just dig it up here…" He rifled through a tall stack of papers before retrieving some that had been near the bottom. "But, assuming everything checks out, you're hired!"
"Really?"
"Really."
Chase grabbed the paperwork and broke into a smile rivaling the one still plastered across Alan's face. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."
Alan stood up, pushing his chair back, and Chase did the same.
"Oh, right. One more thing I should tell you before we dot the Is and cross the Ts."
"Yes?"
"Every now and then, Alcor drops by for a bite. He's a decent customer and all, so it shouldn't be a huge deal, but I figured you could use the heads-up."
"Alcor the Dreambender? Like, the demon?"
"That's the one." For just one second, Alan's grin faltered. "I hope that's not a problem for you."
Chase searched the man's face, but found no signs of levity. He waited for the punchline, for his interviewer to express amusement at his reaction to the peculiar statement, but got no response. Alan, it seemed, was waiting on him as much as he was waiting on Alan.
Finally, when the silence grew unbearable, when he realized that if the conversation was to progress then it was up to him, Chase coughed, then spoke up. "No, sir. That shouldn't be a problem."
"Good." The smile returned to Alan's face, though now it looked smaller, softer. "Your training starts Monday at nine in the morning. Try not to be late."
And, as Chase stared down as his paperwork, still half-expecting the man to explain what he meant about Alcor dropping by, Alan walked away.
The first few days all went as smoothly as he could have hoped. The training was easy and straightforward, Alan worked with Chase to make sure that his schedule worked for both of them, and everybody, coworker and customer alike, was quite pleasant (though he wondered how much of that was due to the presence of his Trainee badge).
It wasn't until his fifth day on the job that he got his first oddball customer.
The guy struck him as unusual from the moment he walked over. He couldn't have been more than a couple years older than Chase- fresh out of college, maybe, or even still a student- but he wore not the typical casual clothes of a mall-going youth but a full business suit, the attire more appropriate for a funeral than for a shopping spree. He had on sunglasses even though they were indoors, dark sunglasses with brightly-colored sequins lining the frames, globs of dried glue visible in the gaps between the sequins. His expression was practically unreadable, though much of that was doubtlessly due to how the sunglasses obscured his eyes entirely.
Chase tried his best not to let his misgivings show. Maybe the man wason his way back from a funeral. Maybe he just liked formal clothes. Whatever the case, he was a customer, to be served and respected like all the rest.
"How can I help you today, sir?"
"One double scoop of cotton candy in a cup, and…" The man hesitated. Chase wondered if he was surveying the plethora of flavors available to him, or whether he was just mentally paralyzed by indecision. His head stayed still, but Chase couldn't read his gaze, hidden as it was behind those gaudy frames. "Let's see… put all the rest of this in one of those big buckets, this is gonna be a lot."
Chase nodded and dug out one of the quart-sized buckets used for take-home orders.
"Alright, good. So. Put one scoop of banana split in there, one scoop of bubble gum, one scoop of kettle corn-"
Chase stopped in the middle of dumping in the second scoop. "I'm afraid policy is to only mix together two flavors at a time-"
"Charge me for a double scoop for every two flavors. That's how you guys usually do it."
Oh, goodie. "Usually". So this guy was a regular. That was going to be fun.
"You do understand that that would mean a charge of-"
The man waved a gloved hand lazily in the air. "You scoop, I worry about the cost. Well, I won't worry, actually. I honestly couldn't care less."
"Y-yes sir."
"So you got the banana split and the bubble gum, right? But not the kettle corn."
Chase silently nodded as he continued scooping the ice cream into the bucket.
"So, get the scoop of kettle corn in there. And then… oh… rocky road sounds good, a scoop of that- and rainbow ice, can't forget that- strawberry cheesecake, maybe? Yeah, strawberry cheesecake- Hey… Chase, is it? How many scoops am I up to now?"
Chase dumped in the latest scoop before mentally rewinding the conversation enough to answer the question- the flavors were already too mixed up in the bucket to be entirely distinguishable. "Um. Six."
"That's what I thought. So there should be room for two more flavors, unless you're being particularly generous in your scooping. Are you being particularly generous, Trainee Chase?"
"I- um- I don't know-"
The man gave him a wide but tight-lipped smile. "Don't sweat it, kid. Either way, I'm running low on ideas, so seven should be plenty. So, last but not least… hmm… I didn't get mint chocolate yet, did I?"
Chase shook his head. "No, sir, you did not."
"Mint chocolate it is. That should be enough for me. Don't forget to give me that cup of cotton candy, too."
Perhaps he had indeed been scooping a bit too much, at least if the man's claim that the quart bucket should hold eight scoops was accurate- even with only seven scoops, it was practically about to burst, and he was struggling to put the lid on.
"Don't bother with the lid. Just stick a spoon in there. I'll be eating that all here."
"You'll-" Chase had trouble believing that the man in front of him, who was more skinny than not, could down even half as much ice cream as he'd ordered in a single serving- but it wasn't his place to judge. He was there to serve the customer, nothing else. He could speculate about the reason behind the details later.
"Sure thing." He stuck a spoon in the bucket before tapping away at the cash register. "Your total today will be-"
"I got it." The man hastily swiped a credit card the likes of which Chase had never seen- it was black all over save for a lone yellow star, and though he didn't get a close look, he couldn't see a magnetic strip or numbers on it. But odd though it was, the card appeared to cover the cost of the transaction all the same.
"Thank you for shopping at Dippin Dots, and have a great day!"
"Same to you, kid." The man wandered off to one of the nearby tables, sitting down next to a brown-haired woman and offering her the small cup while keeping the bucket for himself.
Miraculously, nobody had gotten in line during the man's lengthy order, so Chase had a minute to stand around and prepare himself mentally to face whatever else came his way.
"Was that your first time serving him? Because you did good."
Chase turned around to see his coworker Andi, the one with the tattooed arms and spiky pink hair, grinning at him.
"Yeah… so he really is a regular, huh?"
"Oh yeah, didn't Alan tell you about him?"
"Um…" Chase thought back to all the conversations he'd had with Alan over the last few days, trying to remember any warnings about quirky regulars, but nothing came to mind.
"That's Alcor, dude." Andi pushed their hand against the counter, leaning onto it. "Really, he's pretty chill, considering…"
He looked over to the customer in question, who was enthusiastically tearing into his ice cream, spilling a good deal of it onto the floor in the process. Chase took a closer look at the man's strange appearance. Black suit, without any stains or tears, not even a speck of dirt marring the fabric. His eyes still hidden away. And the brown hair, the gloved hands…
The penny dropped.
The punchline that Chase had all but forgotten about had arrived. Except it wasn't a joke. The last customer he'd served had been… had been…
His knuckles turned white as he clutched the cash register as if clinging to it for dear life.
Andi rolled their eyes.
"Don't worry, kiddo. You'll get used to it."