Dictator "Adolf" Eric Cartman
Chapter 06: Progress, Sort Of
Cartman sat at his oak desk, going through the stack of papers that had been placed there earlier in the day. He found the one bunch in particular he was looking for and pulled them out, removing the paperclip that attached them and setting it aside for now.
Though it had only been a few weeks since he first visited all the companies and then since he'd given them the budget, he already had some reports coming his way concerning the task he'd given them. He had asked them not to e-mail these reports since he didn't want them to get into the wrong hands through hacking or typo in the e-mail address. Instead, he'd told them that each time they had something to report, to call the number he'd given them and someone would be sent to collect these reports. Cartman knew that this was risky, too, but was also had confidence in the woman he'd chosen for the job and he wasn't afraid to retaliate should she betray him.
He leaned back in his chair slightly, which was towards the light of the large window to see better. The first one reported some progress. The company had gotten started and was working on the system busily. A few others reported the same sort of progress. Another reported that it had teamed up with another company to get the best results by using the strength of them both. Cartman thought this an interesting decision. He hadn't forbade it, but he hadn't thought that any would try that either. He'd thought that they would all be fighting for the glory of their own company.
The head of the company called Hart Corp. (apparently named after the guy who created it) was the one to send the letter saying that they'd joined forces with the company Defrag Inc. Both were strong competitors, so he thought it would be interesting to see what they came up with.
He found it odd that they hadn't asked first, but since he hadn't forbade it, he didn't much care. All he wanted was a system that no one could get into except him and since he wasn't all too good with computers besides using them, he needed to trust that others could build it for him and then he had to trust that they wouldn't build some backdoor that they could get into to bring him down. He didn't suspect that any of them would, not even Kyle Broflovski.
He smiled, knowing that even if Kyle didn't trust him he wouldn't leave any room for error in anything he was involved in. His pride wouldn't allow it. He'd want to prove that himself and therefore would make sure it was impenetrable, whether his company's system was the one that was chosen or not. Indeed, Cartman expected a superb product to come from that company.
Once done with these progress reports, he paper clipped them again and then opened the bag that he used more or less as a briefcase (he didn't much care for actual briefcases) to set the pages inside. His attention then turned to the other papers and he began to read over them.
xxxxxxx
Kenny had always strived to become more than his parents had ever amounted to. He refused to continue living in poverty with a broken family and he didn't want to be the object of pity when sited or talked about. Kenny wanted to make a name for himself. Or at least try. Even if he only tried, then people could admire him for that.
Breaking this cycle, however, would be very hard to do. He knew well that, most of the time, the rich would get richer and the poor would remain poor, if not fall into poverty even further. That was how capitalism worked and he knew that he'd have to work that much harder in order to gain anything in life.
When he was deemed 'old enough', he started working right away. At first it was just any job where the employer would hire a young teenager. Paper routes, stocking shelves at stores, that kind of thing. At one point, he even worked at the morgue as a janitor. Once he had a long list of jobs, his résumé of course looked better and better jobs were coming his way. Still, not jobs that would have him rolling in cash.
Unfortunately, with all this working, his grades suffered. While he saw education as an important aspect to achievement in life, and it was something that the guidance councillor shoved down his throat at every chance he got, Kenny saw no way that he would be able to get that education without money. Some would tell him he could shoot for scholarships, but he also faced the reality that he could never be so smart as to beat out people like Kyle, Cartman and Wendy academically. He wasn't about to get loans that would keep him in debt forever, either. That just didn't sit well with him. No, he had to save whatever money he could and kept the thread of hope that somehow it would multiply enough to get him through.
As one would expect, this aspect of money caused a complete uproar in his home. Even with what little he made, his parents demanded that he help support the family, but wasn't having it. They didn't help him, so why should he do them the favour? After a great deal of long verbal battles with his father and mother, but mostly his father, the drunk finally kicked his son out of the house. Kenny would forever recall telling them to get off their lazy asses and make something of themselves.
At first, the blond sought the help of his friends, though he'd also sacrificed a bit of that link with working as well. Luckily, Kyle was able to board him for a while since they had plenty of space and his mother wouldn't have Kenny on the streets. Mrs. Broflovski of course was all gung-ho about Kenny's ambition and supported him. Mr. Broflovski seemed doubtful that a McCormick could make anything of himself, but was supportive nonetheless.
It was only for about a week until Kenny could find a place of his own with the money he'd saved up so far. It wasn't much, but he didn't want to mooch off of his friends. So, with that big chunk of money leaving his pocket, he moved into a shabby apartment, still on the poor side of town, but he was out of his house with his family. This was at age sixteen.
Now with his own place to take care of and for which he had to pay rent, the work load came at an even bigger rate. He got as many jobs as he could manage, at one point up to three, but usually sticking with two. He was always gunning for that one well paying job, but didn't get his hopes up too high. Considering his social status and the fact that it was South Park, no such job came his way during his youth.
Many worried that he would work himself sick, including those he'd been closest with during elementary school. When they could, since they rarely saw him, Stan, Kyle and even Cartman would ask if he was all right and if he needed any help, but Kenny always refused. He didn't want to have to depend on others. Even when he'd fallen greatly ill, he insisted on going into work and letting no one take care of him. Everything just had to be done himself the way he saw it.
At the end of elementary school and into high school, Kenny became more reclusive. At first it was because of issues with his parents and he was beginning to become troubled and depressed. As a child, he'd always kept the hood of his parka up and though he'd gotten rid of the parka, he still wore hooded sweat shirts or coats all the time. The teachers had a tough time getting him to keep it off, always yelling down the halls for him to do so, but he generally ignored them.
Later he became reclusive because of his need to work. It simply kept him from things and people.
He didn't become a rebel, and he didn't exactly become the emo or goth kid, nor was he truly a loner. What he was seen as was anti-social. With working so much, he saw Stan, Kyle and Cartman less and less, but was very aware of their struggles. Especially the major clash that seemed to be going on between Kyle and Cartman, since everyone and their uncle knew about that.
While he saw that Cartman had changed, he still held a grudge against him for all the wise-cracks that the ass had made about him during their childhood. He was quite certain Cartman resented him back, considering all Kenny had said about the other boy's mother and everything, but he didn't think there was any reason to peg him as the maniac that Kenny had been certain he'd turn out to be. There was rather an odd friendship between them, but a friendship nonetheless.
He saw them all when he could, not outright ignoring them, but he didn't have the time going from school to work to sleep (sometimes early in the morning) and then to school the next day. Sometimes they would all get a chance to hang out on his days off, though he rarely allowed himself to have one of those. But, like anyone else, he just needed to unwind at times.
At the end of high school, Kenny saw his friends succeed and graduate with high marks and scholarships and he was happy for them. Personally, he'd only passed with mediocre grades, but at that point he hadn't expected anything else. He hadn't even applied for college, even though many told him to do so. That in itself became a small battle between him and others, but he knew they were just concerned.
Instead of college, he knew all he could do was try to live his life the best he could. Maybe one day he could go to college, though he doubted it.
His living conditions had improved only slightly from his childhood. He was still considered poor and he struggled immensely to make ends meet, but he didn't have to put up with his family. All was his, though he rented the apartment he lived in. He cut down on expenses by using the Laundromat and he didn't have a car. He either walked, rode the shabby bicycle he owned or took the bus when he had some reason to go out of town. Other times he would hitch a ride with those he worked with.
The man was content enough, knowing that many others he'd known through high school and even since childhood had gone to worse and were in the poor situation that his parents were. Drug addicts, alcoholics, whores, prostitutes, pimps, robbers; he knew people who had become these and worse. He hadn't turned to any of that, but guessed that had he not strived to succeed and had he still been living in his parents' house that he would have. That, or he'd have been dead in a ditch by fifteen.
At present, he was on his way to work, as a lower ranked carpenter. South Park was finally building a better community center, though his job was not placed specifically in South Park. It was just coincidence that they were in his home town. The business itself was from the next town over and it was lucky he'd found the job at all.
Kenny could remember the day he'd seen the ad in the newspaper. He was on break at his then place of employment and found that the paper had been left lying around; probably because even the people of South Park were becoming more interested in politics. His interest wasn't in the increasing stability of the economy or any political things, but rather the want ads.
The blond could often be found looking them over and as soon as he saw the ad for the construction job, which promised to pay more than his current job, he made a grab for it. He knew it was a long shot since he had no experience, but he wasn't about to pass it up.
Tearing out of the break room, he had run to the nearest phone with the article in hand to call them right away. He set up an interview, gathered up his résumé afterwards and then caught a bus to the next town the next day as it was conveniently his day off. Sitting in the best clothes he had (a pair of fairly dressy pants and a button-up shirt) he had handed over the résumé and sat waiting for hat he knew the man would say.
"None of your previous jobs are in construction, Mr. McCormick," the largely built, though not fat, man commented, glancing at Kenny with his dark eyes.
"No, sir," Kenny agreed and he wasn't about to try and lie how he'd helped an uncle build a house one summer or something stupid like that. That would get him nowhere.
"But you do have good references and a lot of work experience," the man continued in an even tone. "Working since you were thirteen?" He raised a brow, looking the younger man over, slightly surprised to see he was so calm.
"That's right, sir," Kenny confirmed with a nod, wondering absently if he should have made his hair super neat, too. Oh well, he didn't have gel anyway.
The man set Kenny's résumé on the desk and simply looked at the other male. "So, what makes you want this job?"
"It pays better than my current one," Kenny said without cracking a grin, intending to show that he was completely serious in his answer. Again, he saw no point in lying.
"Is that so," the man managed after quickly removing the surprised look from his face. "This isn't just some job that you can come running to just because you need money. You're expected to work, especially people like you who have never done a job like this before."
The man was testing him. Kenny resisted a smile.
"I know that, sir," Kenny continued. "I've been working hard since I was thirteen and I won't be able to stop anytime soon." This last part wasn't particularly a happy thought for Kenny, but he couldn't omit it if he really wanted this job.
That had been several years back at this point and somehow he'd landed the job. If he recalled correctly, the man, Tyler Brown, had said he was going to give him a shot, but that if he fucked up (and he had used that phrasing) then Kenny would be out of there before he knew what hit him.
Now he walked to the construction site, pulling his coat closer around him to fight off the cold. The blond saw another pair of men already standing around and waiting until more people got there so they could do work, both of whom he knew and worked with. Upon landing the job, he'd discovered a few others he knew already working there, but most had now moved onto bigger jobs. Now it was just him, Clyde and Craig.
Over the years working together, he'd grown closer to these guys again. He and Clyde could get going making all the sexual jokes in the world. Kenny and Craig, however, often struggled for power between the two of them. Craig had become borderline control freak and Kenny, so used to doing things for himself and therefore being in charge was prone to challenging the other man. Overall, somehow, the three got along well, though.
The two had been working there longer than him and were high ups, but Kenny wasn't that far behind. He'd proved himself and escalated quickly in the job, much to the surprise of many of them. Tyler Brown, however, was pleased, realizing that he'd made a good choice all those years ago.
"Kenny," Craig called out in greeting when Kenny was a few feet away. None of them had abandoned the childhood nickname for the blond. It seemed too weird to call him Ken and since he didn't protest they guessed it was all right to continue with Kenny.
"Hey guys," Kenny greeted, standing beside them with his shoulders hunched up so that the collar of his coat went up to his chin. He had on a hat and a scarf, but the chill was bitter. They leaned against the side of the portable, out of the wind, yet still felt its bite.
"Looks like a storm's coming in," Clyde commented, his unshaven face turning towards the sky. He didn't have anywhere near a beard, but it was easy to see that he hadn't taken the time to shave that morning. "Maybe we'll get a few days off."
"Better than freezing our nuts off out here," Craig complained.
Eventually, others began to show up and once they all got to work they warmed up a bit. Not much, but the work also distracted them from feeling the cold. Some might have suggested that they wear heavier jackets, but of course that would make it harder to manoeuvre about and get the work done, mostly because heavier jackets tended to be bulkier, too.
It had started to snow a bit when they first started work for the day, but it wasn't until the wind really picked up and the snow fell heavier that the boss called it a day. Considering they could barely see what they were doing and the work was becoming hard to do, there was no point in trying to continue.
"Let the mayor bitch about it then," Craig was saying as he gave Kenny a ride home since the blond had walked. "I'd like to see her out there working in this weather."
"I'm not saying we should have to keep working in the storm," Kenny said, looking out the window absently as they made their slow progress across town. His breath hung in the air even in the car; according to Craig the heater was broken. "I'm just saying she's going to bitch about it."
"Yeah, well, she's always had a bug up her ass," Craig sighed.
Of course, this wasn't the same mayor that had been in charge of South Park when they were children, but the woman who'd come to be mayor nowadays was just as bad, some would say. Perhaps even worse, but the people of the town seemed willing to put up with Martha Hyndman.
After going over the tracks that had always separated the two sides of the town, Craig turned down one of the side streets and pulled up to the small apartment building. Calling it a quality establishment would be downright lying. Some of the windows were boarded up and it had that look to it that it wasn't well taken care of. It was, all the same, what Kenny called home.
"Thanks, man," Kenny said, stepping out of the car. "See yah tomorrow, if the storm dies down."
"Want a ride?" Craig offered, leaning over slightly so he could see Kenny.
"Nah. I'm all right." Kenny smiled, shut the door and waved before rushing towards the building as Craig pulled away.
Inside, Kenny walked down the dimly lit halls and up the stairs (the elevator was always broken) towards his apartment. His wet boots squeaked on the tiled floors and echoed around him like he was in a chamber. The walls of the hallway were painted an off white, supposedly to allow the brightness to come in from the windows, but it still looked really dark and dank a lot of the time.
Once he'd pulled his key out of his pocket, he opened the door and stepped inside the apartment before locking the door again with the many locks he'd put on the door. A chain lock, a turn lock and of course the lock on the doorknob itself. He didn't trust these people at all and while some might call him over-cautious, he sometimes felt he wasn't being cautious enough. Of course, not everyone in the building was a crook, but there were definitely some.
He tossed his coat aside on the chair in the entryway and hung his keys on the little hook on the kitchen cabinet as he passed the kitchen area. In reality, he only had three keys; two for the apartment (one the turn lock and the other the doorknob lock) and one for his mail box downstairs. He felt the chill of the area and opted to turn up the heat a bit.
The man entered into the small living area where there sat one recliner that looked like it'd seen better days, a small table and also a small television. He walked over to the balcony window though, pulling back the curtains to let the light in and to look outside. All he saw was the white of the snow storm.
