A/N: Er…I am actually scared you'll al be too mad at me to review. But please don't be. Check out my new and improved (hey, isn't that an oxymoron…?) bio for a list of excuses. Enough said, on with the story.
CHAPTER 4: THOSE PESKY SALES ASSISTANTS
The next week past in a blur of flurrying around and organising last minute preparations, such as stocking up on travel sized toiletries, buying appropriate clothes etc. Since they had no idea where they were going (other than Tahiti, stop 1), they had been equipped with a what could be described as a debit card – it had been programmed to transfer money out of a Gringotts account arranged by the travel company, so whenever they needed spare cash they could use the card. This was so when they got to their destination, they could quickly purchase appropriate clothing for the weather.
Ron and Hermione's latest hunt for gear fitting Tahitian weather had led them to a department store in London, where a sign out the front loudly proclaimed 'summer fashion – men and women's styles! IN STORE NOW!' They were looking for swimming costumes and shorts, singlets and T-shirts – general beachwear.
Ron groaned inwardly, shopping was not one of his best assets. Little did he know, Hermione was looking forward to this shopping trip as much as he was. However, she put on her 'I am totally in control here' face and purposefully opened the door. They stepped inside and were greeted by a mammoth smorgasbord of products – clothing, underwear, indoor furnishings, outdoor furnishings, soft furnishings, beds, toys, books, electronics and CDs. The only thing the store didn't come equipped with was a NASA rocket launching pad, and even then Ron thought they might have one out the back.
He meekly followed Hermione into the clothing section, which was essentially half the store. She walked him into women's wear, then into the swimwear department.
"Right – we'll try on my stuff first, because I'll probably be faster. Then we can spend however long you want with what you need to get."
Before Ron had a chance to reply, a large, busty, elderly woman with a perm straight out of the eighties waltzed up. She smiled sickeningly at them both, "Hiiiii," she said, stretching out her vowels. Her voice was decidedly nasal and irritating. "How are we today?"
Strongly resisting the urge to say, "WE are doing just fine thanks," Hermione meekly replied, "Um…well, thank you."
"Good, that's good. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"No, we're actually just loo-"
"Ok, great to hear it. I highly recommend for the little lady here our Susan range, very popular with the women." She dragged them both over to a rack of clothing that Hermione's grandmother wouldn't be seen dead in. Lurid flowers, bold tropical prints and very high-waisted, big shouldered clothes stared back at them.
"Now try these on."
Before Hermione knew what was happening, the sales assistant had picked up an armful of the hideous clothes and thrown them (and Hermione) into a change room. The next ten minutes were so horribly traumatic that Hermione made Ron swear he would never bring it up again. Basically, it involved many pairs of high-waisted checked shorts and Hawaiian flowered shirts.
After finally shaking off the sales assistant, they moved further down the swimwear department. They passed one pieces ("Too plain" was Hermione's verdict), bikinis ("Um…no thanks") and finally, tankinis ("Perfect.")
She picked a selection of halter necks, some with tropical prints, others plain. She eventually settled on a plain black halter neck and seeing as there was a buy one get a second half price deal, she also chose a blue-turquoise tropical print one. Ron also conned her into getting a chocolate brown bikini, on the grounds that, "25 of the profits go to charity for this one, and if the others are in the wash you'll need a spare,"
They then quickly chose a bunch of sarongs, shorts and singlets, before heading off to menswear for Ron. They were met there by another irritatingly perky and persistent sales assistant, this time a young, southern American.
"Hi, can I help you?" she said in a lilting Texan accent.
"No, thanks, we're just looking," Hermione said firmly.
"Ok, great! Now I see you have all the swimwear you need," she said, nodding at Hermione, but then she turned to Ron. "But it looks like you could do with some help."
Once again, they knew that struggle was pointless. They meekly followed her, thinking that if they agreed with everything she said then they could get it over with as fast as possible and then put it back and choose their own stuff.
She strode directly into menswear this time, and then into swimwear. Instead of stopping at board shorts, as both Ron and Hermione had hoped, she walked straight on by and stopped only when they reached the Speedos section. Ron mentally wailed.
The perky sales lady picked out various sickeningly small pairs of Speedos so fast she could have been on steroids. She then chucked them – and Ron – into the nearest changing room. Hermione placidly wondered if anyone who was hired by this store had to complete a course called, "How To Make Your Customer Feel As Uncomfortable As Possible So Eventually They Will Get So Distraught They Will Buy Anything You Tell Them To Just To Get Rid Of You, Regardless Of The Ludicrous Price."
Five minutes later, Ron poked his out through the door. The sales assistant jumped up and cried, "Let's see now, sexy!"
Ron looked like he wanted to cry. He took a very small step to the side so he could be seen.
Hermione was not prepared for anything like this. The Speedos were tiny, and looked more like Tarzan's loincloth than actual swimwear. The sales assistant beamed and proclaimed, "Now if there is one way to get a girl's attention it is to wear swimmers like that!"
Hermione thought at that exact moment, "Now if there's one way to turn a girl off, it is to wear swimmers like that."
They managed to shoo off the second assistant and Ron ran to put all the revolting clothes back. He picked out a few pairs of plain board shorts, which they ended up putting on the "To Buy" list, along with a few T-shirts.
Finally they were done. They raced for the checkout and paid, then walked as fast as they could away from the House of Horrors.
Next on their list of things to do was organise work arrangements for both of them and figure out who would look after the cats, etcetera. They went home and Hermione owled a few people, arranging that her friend Suzy would take her shifts if Hermione could fill in for her when she was away or needed a break. Ron reluctantly Flooed to his work, to talk to his boss about what was going to happen with his job. He picked up his coat, kissed Hermione on the cheek (who was presently sitting on the couch flipping through a catalogue – she was looking for a present to buy for Suzy, to say thanks) and left.
He got into his office, where Damien, his boss, was hunched over a piece of parchment, scribbling furiously. Damien was a portly, middle-aged man, who was pleasant and kind. Most people got on well with him and were surprised when they found out he was not married and had no children. He looked up when he heard Ron's footsteps.
"Ah, Weasley, good to see you. Now, if you've got a minute, I need you to run this report over to editorial management, so they can check it-"
"Actually, Damien, I need to talk to you," Ron began. "I'm going away on my honeymoon-"
"Honeymoon? When did you get married?" he exclaimed.
Ron internally rolled his eyes. Damien was notoriously absent minded and forgetful. "About a month ago, Damien, you were at the wedding. Remember?"
"Oh yes…that's right. Forgot about that. Carry on."
"Yeah, well, we're going on our honeymoon at the end of the week, and we'll be away for about three months. Is that ok?"
"Of course it is! Young chap like you should see the world. But um…who's going to do my filing?"
Well you could try it, Ron thought grouchily. Instead he said, "Well, I've put an ad up for someone interested, and we'll start the interviews either later today or tomorrow."
"Oh today, of course! Can they come in maybe in an hour?"
"I think that should work – most of them are just juniors on various magazines or newspapers, looking for a bit of a change. I told them that it would be an 'invaluable learning experience,'"
"Bet they lapped that right up!" snorted Damien. "Those young 'uns. They'd believe anything!"
"Right…" Ron mused. "Well, I'll go and contact them and make sure they can make it. Just so you know, I haven't actually spoken to any of these people, I've just read their resumes that they sent in."
But Damien had gone back to scribbling. Ron sighed and went out to find the various eager, hopeful reporters.
By 5:00 that afternoon, he had managed to round up every single one of the candidates who were sitting nervously outside Ron and Damien's office, waiting to be called in.
The first five interviews were total disasters. Most of the young hopefuls were barely older than 18, but looked about 12 in Ron's opinion. They were eager-to-please and had pretty much no initiative. Some answers to their questions (such as: "What do you hope to gain from working here for a period of three months?") included:
"Well I'd really love to work with a fine journalist such as yourself – I mean this is a job millions of young people would die for!" Yeah, filing old reports, Ron thought. Next!
"Um…I think that working here could get me discounts with your sponsors and advertisers?" Mhmm…try again.
Then came the question, "Why do you think we should pick you for this job?"
"Because I dress well."
"Because I have nice hair."
"Because I can spell 'orange'."
NEXT!
Finally, a young woman came in. Her dark brown hair was cropped pixie short and she wore denim jeans and a simple black cardigan. She carried a medium sized leather bag, big enough to fit a moneybag, a few books and any reports or papers she might have to carry around. Her pale green eyes showed that she knew how to work and could get things done, but the sparkly showed she knew how to have a good time.
"Melissa Hart?"
"That's me." She smiled.
"Right. Now, why do you think you should get this job?"
"Well, I think that I could do this job well because I have had experience working in editorial, and I can write well, and I also have quite good organizational skills."
Ok. She's doing well.
"Why do you want this job?"
"To be honest?"
"Yes, to be honest."
"I need the money. I recently moved out, and I desperately need a job. And of course, just for the general writing experience."
Ron and Damien exchanged glances. They nodded.
"Well, Melissa, it looks like you're hired."
She grinned. "Excellent, thank you so much! When do I start?"
"Monday next week, at 9:00am sharp," said Damien.
"Ok, good. I'll see you then!" and with that, she was off.
Ron finally got home and collapsed on the sofa. He just wanted to sleep. Hermione came bustling in, explaining about the arrangements for the cats and the house.
"I spoke to Ginny and Harry earlier, and they're fine to take the cats. Ginny said she could come by the house once a week to water the plants, so I think we're all set. Did you find someone to look after your job while we're away?"
"Yeah, a girl named Melissa. She seems nice enough, and I had another look at her resume. She said she had experience in editorial, but I looked her up and it turns out her father was the owner of some newspaper in America and she was writing for it since she was 12!"
"Wow…I'm sure she was a good choice then. Now, what do you feel like for dinner?"
Ron made a face, "Unh, I do not want to cook tonight. Can we just have toast and eggs or something?"
"Sure. I'll make it, you just sit back. Goodness knows you do enough cooking for us to deserve a rest."
She made them both boiled eggs and toast and, balancing it on a tray, brought it over to their wooden dining table. They ate with gusto, ravenous after a busy day. When they finished, Hermione made them tea and brought it over to the lounge room where they sat, curled up together on their couch, looking over catalogues for 'thank you' gifts for various different people. They had to get Suzy something and then of course the Weasleys, plus Harry, Neville and Luna.
"Ooh, your mum would like that, wouldn't she?" Hermione asked, pointing at a large china teapot.
"Yeah, she would actually. Hey, look at this for my dad, it's a broken television set! Sure, it wouldn't work but he'd love it anyway…"
"Great. Hmm, d'you think Ginny would wear that?" she asked, pointing out a set of robes.
The evening passed much like this, comfortable and warm. Tomorrow they'd begin on packing, after all they were leaving in just three days!
THANK YOU TO:
TheDaughterOfKings: thanks for reviewing! Just so you know, I intentionally left Hermione's maiden name because I don't really believe in giving up your name for a man. But thanks anyway!
Princess Jennifer: hey there! Glad you liked it. Are you happy I finally got off my butt and wrote! Hehe lol. Talk to you soon. xx
thehalfbloodprincess: thanks! And yes, I think I might change her name to Mrs. Granger-Weasley. Thank you for your advice!
KatydidD: hey honey. Glad you liked it! Haven't heard form you in a while, are you ok? E-mail me. xx
sophianwin: thank you for reviewing! And also I appreciate the constructive critiscm, keep it coming.
iWILLmarrydanielradcliffe: thanks! I really appreciate your nice reviews! Ok, I'll tell you about why his name is ECRIVET – it's based on the Latin word to write, and he is a journalist!
Kendra is cheese: thanks, and I'm sorry for the long wait again. Hope it was worth it!