CHAPTER 3
Xavier returned a couple of hours later. He sorted the students into their groups with encouraging smiles and assigned teachers to take them to the job centre. The day would be a long one, but this had to be done.
"I don't want to do this," St. John muttered. In an effort to make him seem more employable, Jean had forced him to wear a clean, new shirt. It smelt funny. "This shirt has been ironed too meticulously."
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"This is it?" Jubilee gazed up at it, bemused. It was a tall, shiny building, one had to give it credit for that. But it was also an odd shade of green that was almost blinding to look at. The large doors were wide open, and the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through it. The window frames sparkled with an attractive and slightly sexy cleanliness.
Scott quickly prepared them once more for their interviews and they were off. The groups that followed afterwards were equally hesitant, convinced that if they did by some miracle end up with a job, it would involve large insects or many tiny babies.
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"Hello!" said the Job Lady. She was dressed in a stiff suit, pointy green Peter Pan shoes, and delicate glasses that were obviously worn only for visual effect.
"Hi." Jubilee sat down, feeling increasingly insecure. She scanned the room uncomfortably. It was well lit, but there was something about the way Job Lady scrutinised her that made her wish she already had a job.
"So," Job Lady beamed. "You are looking for work. Why?"
Pause.
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"Hello young man! You would be Mr Drake, then. And why do you want a job?"
"I think, well, um, I need to earn more money…"
"It's not uncommon, you needn't feel alone, dear."
"No, uh, I don't feel – "
"Tell me what you're good at."
"I like sport. And watching it," Bobby thought harder. "Do you have any jobs along, um, those lines? I mean, sport… watching sport?"
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"Hi!" John waved cheerfully. "I'm smiley, smiley John!"
"Hello young man! Why do you want a job?"
"Because I need to give something back to my people. I feel selfish, held back. Held back from what I need. It's a horrible feeling." He sniffled.
"Oh, I know how you feel, dear. Don't worry, we'll get you exactly the kind of job you want," she cooed. John beamed. "So you want to, ah, help the people around you?"
"Yes, that's what I said. I would like to help my community. It's full of bastards, so I was thinking of something like drug dealing. Kill them all off. Or more extreme stuff to keep my lost soul entertained. You know, like piloting military aircraft. To start off light."
-----------------------------------------
"Ehhh…."
"Hi there. Um…. What's wrong?"
"… Did you just walk through that wall?"
"Oh, no. No! Well, actually, yes. Cool illusion. It's like bending spoons. Wanna try?"
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"Sport. Any sport in particular? How about working at a kid's day care centre?"
"Well, no, that's not sport," Bobby laughed nervously. "I would like – "
"Well, that's sorted. I think you'll enjoy this experience."
"Now, er, hang on just a second! I told you what I want – I want to watch sport. This is not –"
"Good luck! Call the next person in."
"No, I refuse! I rebel! I will not be treated like this!" he shrieked as security guards wrestled him out of the building, shoving the details of his new job into his coat pocket.
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"Miss Lee? Hello? Miss Lee? Really, I am beginning to doubt whether you want a job or not."
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"We don't have any spaces in the military field, I'm afraid." John hung his head pathetically. "However, we do have a place… right here. You'll be helping your community even more."
He peered down at the small slip of paper. His face fell. "Wha… wait, you said I could have what I wanted. That's not – Hey, get your hands off of me, you little fuckers!"
"Call in the next person please, dear."
-----------------------------------------
The second they stepped/got thrown out of the Job Centre, the complaints began.
"Cheese tasting," Kitty muttered bitterly. "Highest grades in school and I am paid to eat cheese for the next six months."
"At least you get something slightly nutritious," moaned Rogue. "Ah'm stuck with chocolate."
"What?!" Jubilee snatched Rogue's job details from her. "God, I don't believe this. And you're actually sad about this?"
"Of course ah'm sad," she said mournfully, gasping as the tears came. She added feebly, "Logan won't be there." Jubilee rolled her eyes.
"I'll trade."
"Heh, yeah right. Flea training ain't any better."
"Day care centre? Me?" yelped John, brandishing his sheet of paper at Scott in case he decided to ignore him. He was ignored anyway. "I can understand Mr Bobby-Sensitive getting shoved in with a ton of six year old brats, but what am I supposed to do? Light pretty, pretty incense for them?"
"What do you mean, sensitive? I'm terrible with children," groaned Bobby. "Where'd Logan go?"
They heard the sound of frantic stumbling behind them.
"Logan, ah was so worried! Guess what they're putting me through? Ah'm so young and vulnerable… Logan! Logan, you moron, pay attention!"
"I'm with you," Logan said in a low voice, ignoring Rogue and hitting Bobby's shoulder harder than he perhaps meant to.
Scott stopped walking, turned around and finally spoke. "You? You are going to look after little kids? Expecting money?"
"Yeah." Logan shrugged his shoulders, taking a sudden interest in a nearby leaf. "Why not? I think it could be educational."
Xavier returned a couple of hours later. He sorted the students into their groups with encouraging smiles and assigned teachers to take them to the job centre. The day would be a long one, but this had to be done.
"I don't want to do this," St. John muttered. In an effort to make him seem more employable, Jean had forced him to wear a clean, new shirt. It smelt funny. "This shirt has been ironed too meticulously."
--------------------------------------------------
"This is it?" Jubilee gazed up at it, bemused. It was a tall, shiny building, one had to give it credit for that. But it was also an odd shade of green that was almost blinding to look at. The large doors were wide open, and the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through it. The window frames sparkled with an attractive and slightly sexy cleanliness.
Scott quickly prepared them once more for their interviews and they were off. The groups that followed afterwards were equally hesitant, convinced that if they did by some miracle end up with a job, it would involve large insects or many tiny babies.
-----------------------------------------
"Hello!" said the Job Lady. She was dressed in a stiff suit, pointy green Peter Pan shoes, and delicate glasses that were obviously worn only for visual effect.
"Hi." Jubilee sat down, feeling increasingly insecure. She scanned the room uncomfortably. It was well lit, but there was something about the way Job Lady scrutinised her that made her wish she already had a job.
"So," Job Lady beamed. "You are looking for work. Why?"
Pause.
-----------------------------------------
"Hello young man! You would be Mr Drake, then. And why do you want a job?"
"I think, well, um, I need to earn more money…"
"It's not uncommon, you needn't feel alone, dear."
"No, uh, I don't feel – "
"Tell me what you're good at."
"I like sport. And watching it," Bobby thought harder. "Do you have any jobs along, um, those lines? I mean, sport… watching sport?"
-----------------------------------------
"Hi!" John waved cheerfully. "I'm smiley, smiley John!"
"Hello young man! Why do you want a job?"
"Because I need to give something back to my people. I feel selfish, held back. Held back from what I need. It's a horrible feeling." He sniffled.
"Oh, I know how you feel, dear. Don't worry, we'll get you exactly the kind of job you want," she cooed. John beamed. "So you want to, ah, help the people around you?"
"Yes, that's what I said. I would like to help my community. It's full of bastards, so I was thinking of something like drug dealing. Kill them all off. Or more extreme stuff to keep my lost soul entertained. You know, like piloting military aircraft. To start off light."
-----------------------------------------
"Ehhh…."
"Hi there. Um…. What's wrong?"
"… Did you just walk through that wall?"
"Oh, no. No! Well, actually, yes. Cool illusion. It's like bending spoons. Wanna try?"
-----------------------------------------
"Sport. Any sport in particular? How about working at a kid's day care centre?"
"Well, no, that's not sport," Bobby laughed nervously. "I would like – "
"Well, that's sorted. I think you'll enjoy this experience."
"Now, er, hang on just a second! I told you what I want – I want to watch sport. This is not –"
"Good luck! Call the next person in."
"No, I refuse! I rebel! I will not be treated like this!" he shrieked as security guards wrestled him out of the building, shoving the details of his new job into his coat pocket.
-----------------------------------------
"Miss Lee? Hello? Miss Lee? Really, I am beginning to doubt whether you want a job or not."
-----------------------------------------
"We don't have any spaces in the military field, I'm afraid." John hung his head pathetically. "However, we do have a place… right here. You'll be helping your community even more."
He peered down at the small slip of paper. His face fell. "Wha… wait, you said I could have what I wanted. That's not – Hey, get your hands off of me, you little fuckers!"
"Call in the next person please, dear."
-----------------------------------------
The second they stepped/got thrown out of the Job Centre, the complaints began.
"Cheese tasting," Kitty muttered bitterly. "Highest grades in school and I am paid to eat cheese for the next six months."
"At least you get something slightly nutritious," moaned Rogue. "Ah'm stuck with chocolate."
"What?!" Jubilee snatched Rogue's job details from her. "God, I don't believe this. And you're actually sad about this?"
"Of course ah'm sad," she said mournfully, gasping as the tears came. She added feebly, "Logan won't be there." Jubilee rolled her eyes.
"I'll trade."
"Heh, yeah right. Flea training ain't any better."
"Day care centre? Me?" yelped John, brandishing his sheet of paper at Scott in case he decided to ignore him. He was ignored anyway. "I can understand Mr Bobby-Sensitive getting shoved in with a ton of six year old brats, but what am I supposed to do? Light pretty, pretty incense for them?"
"What do you mean, sensitive? I'm terrible with children," groaned Bobby. "Where'd Logan go?"
They heard the sound of frantic stumbling behind them.
"Logan, ah was so worried! Guess what they're putting me through? Ah'm so young and vulnerable… Logan! Logan, you moron, pay attention!"
"I'm with you," Logan said in a low voice, ignoring Rogue and hitting Bobby's shoulder harder than he perhaps meant to.
Scott stopped walking, turned around and finally spoke. "You? You are going to look after little kids? Expecting money?"
"Yeah." Logan shrugged his shoulders, taking a sudden interest in a nearby leaf. "Why not? I think it could be educational."