(POV: Helga)
The onset of puberty was already mortifying on principle and while PS118's health class did all in its power to prepare and educate us sixth grade girls about body hair, boob growth, monthly visits from Aunt Flo and much, much more, a great deal of learning about all these normal changes still came from "The Film!" in all it's unflinching honesty.
In stark contrast to the rest of the girls who found themselves unnerved, I instead slumped unfazed at my desk beneath whatever anemic light came from the projection screen. For the past year, I have had bigger things to be embarrassed about than some faceless (and male) doctor of yore narrating with robotic indifference the full details of what my first forays into womanhood would entail, a very adult facet of life that no class, pamphlet or video could ever mentally prepare me for: homelessness.
"The human ovum measures approximately 0.1 mm (or 0.0039 in) in diameter." The narrator said emotionlessly. "To put that in perspective, that is smaller than the tip of your pencil."
"Yet still unimaginably vast when compared to Bob's sense of foresight and business smarts put together." I muttered under my breath.
(One year prior)
After years of lording his position of being Hillwood's undisputed sovereign of telecommunication devices, reality briefly bit Bob Pataki squarely on the ass in the form of a foreclosure letter from the bank. Big Bob's Beepers had been circling the bowl for a while for a number of reasons. Technology had not only been advancing in leaps and bounds, but was also becoming increasingly available to the masses at large, thus usurping the beeper from its once esteemed place as the common man's mode of communication. However, even if Bob had swallowed his pride, ceded his throne and diversified his stock, it still wouldn't change the fact that how much he stood to gain off the ashes of everyone's old lives via aligning himself with Scheck and his company had now become public knowledge. Knowing that you'd sell out your entire town for a SUPER beeper emporium with direct from overpass parking doesn't exactly draw crowds.
Try as he did to shrug off the hype that came with these changes, and dismiss the employees who jumped ship as 'quitters', 'snowflakes', and other related pejoratives too vile to repeat here, Bob felt a twinge of fear flash briefly in his eyes.
It couldn't end like this.
It wasn't going to end like this.
It would take a lot of work on everyone's part but Big Bob's Beepers wasn't going to go down without a fight. Stronger men than him had been in tighter squeezes and still came out on top.
By the end of the week, Miriam, and I entered the threshold of the Pataki Patriarch's eponymous electronics emporium carrying with us the last few vestiges of our old life which hadn't already been moved into the store beforehand. Once we set the boxes on the floor, Robert calls us over, no doubt to impart the same platitude ridden speech he had given time and time again to his dwindling pool of employees before they all abandoned their fearless leader to find more fruitful employment opportunities.
"Alright." He said gruffly. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it people, our backs are against the wall right now. Beepers ain't selling like they used too because of all these techno-toy fads, and our store is getting it's keister kicked pretty hard."
("Yeah, no shit Sherlock.") I think to herself. While the already frayed strands of respect I had for them had unraveled, cursing to mom and dad's faces was still a line I'm still loath to cross…for now.
"But 'fad', I often found, is only one letter away from 'fade'. How many fads had come and gone before? Disco. Lava lamps. Pet Rocks. Shudder shades…Crunk music…um, those pocket monster things from Japan. Anyway, the point is what makes these new-fangled cellular phones any different? Because some fruit loop in a black sweater thinks he's Moses?"
("Who even calls them that Gramps?")
"I'm man enough to admit we got out-gimmicked for a minute by that computer geek, but he's all sizzle and no steak when the day is done. Now it's going to take a bit of sacrifice on all of our parts. But if we're going to swim with the sharks once more, we've-"
"SACRIFICE!?"
Bob and Miriam's eyes turn to me as my preadolescent frame vibrates with a level of rage which deep down I even admit to be terrified of. Nonetheless, the floor was mine and by gum I was going to milk it for all it was worth.
"Here's a bit of a newsflash Bob: WE! HAVE! NO! HOME! We CAN'T exactly swim if we're floundering and the sharks are using us as chum! For ONCE in your life; wake up, smell the 21st Century and swallow your pride!"
"Hey! Heyheyheyheyheyheyhey!" Bob said waving his sausage-y index finger inches from my mouth. "I've already had enough loser talk from my so-called employees, but we're Patakis and our natural sense of pride is what makes us winners."
"Oh, yeah, mhm. Right, pride. I'm sure I can get some from the break room vending machine next to that bag of chips with Ronnie Matthew's face on it."
"Anyway. We have pride! And if that means we gotta pull our weight to show it, then we will. Miriam, you're in charge of graphics and advertisements, and whoo-boy are we gonna need 'em if we're going to beat this dip in sales. Now, Olga-"
"I'm. Helga. Bob."
"Whatever." He said dismissively. "I got a special job for you. I know for a fact that you kids these days get yourselves all a'flutter about anything that remotely smells retro, so when you go back to that indoctrination center on Monday, I want you to bring some of these bad boys for your snot-nosed friends!"
Before I could object, Bob heaves a briefcase at my feet. From the sound of the solid thud it makes upon colliding with the ground, I could only assume that it is full to the brim with his antiquated crap.
"Gee, thanks." I shot back with gritted teeth. "And while we're on the subject of Olga, I'm sure you'll just do a nice little U-Turn on investing in her tuition and force her to roll up her sleeves like the rest of us peons?"
"Leave Olga to me girlie." Bob said back with a glower.
And just like that, with those five words, hope had officially abandoned the Pataki family.
