A/N: Response time!
Gs33022, I was wondering about "Wonka Lift" myself! "Wonklift" would sound a bit too much like a play on "forklift", and I can't think of anything else. I have to agree with Mr. Wonka; "Wonkavator" definitely would sound better, in any case!
Mr. Wonka gave Violet a week to get adjusted before she started school in the area. The most important adjustment was her mental time zone switch, but she also had to familiarize herself with the section of town where the factory was located.
She also had to change money. This proved to be more challenging than it would normally. The United Kingdom had switched over to decimalized currency earlier in the year, and, as it was, locals still were getting themselves used to the fact that the shilling was no longer being minted, as well as the fact that the penny had changed in value. Violet lost count quickly of the number of times she encountered elderly people asking, "How much is that in old money?", only for her to have to explain that she wouldn't know, since she was "a tourist". Thank goodness for the nearly ubiquitous "decimal adders".
School uniforms were another thing to get used to having. Gone were the days when Violet just laid out an outfit to wear to school the next morning. Now, she had to dress exactly the same way as everybody else: a bland, grey jacket over a white dress shirt and navy tie, along with an equally bland, grey skirt and stockings to match the jacket. At least she got to keep her partial ponytail hairstyle. When getting back to the factory after school, the first thing she did was redress in a regular outfit. Violet took notice that many other schoolchildren were dressing "normally", but she quickly came to realize that Mr. Wonka had put her in a different institution than the one that they were attending.
Schools also were stricter about chewing gum. In fact, Violet found herself having to sneak her gum out of her mouth during lectures and then pop it back in when the teachers weren't looking, and then she started moving her jaws less (using her tongue to roll around the gum to substitute) in fear that she would be caught and scolded, or possibly worse.
Most surprising to her was the fact that Mr. Wonka turned out not to have a telephone service. It hadn't occurred to her or her folks, but Mr. Wonka being a recluse meant limited communication outside of a postal address. Violet learned that, if she wanted to contact home, she would have to climb into a big, red telephone booth, pay the specified amount (which, again, was complicated by postings stating that change would be given in "new pence" only), tell the switchboard operator that she wanted to place an international call, and then pay even more at the operator's request. Violet did this only once, on her fourth day, to explain to her parents about calling suddenly becoming complicated. They understood that, for the reason of not having a factory to call, calls would have to come from her to them exclusively, with mailing letters still being an option. Violet was unsure of when she would place a call home again, but she knew that it would be a while.
...
Violet started to run into a problem before too long. It began when she walked into the kitchen after an exhausting day at school. Throwing her books onto the coffee table in the sitting room and changing into a comfortable sweater and khakis in her bedroom, she headed over in search of a quick snack. To her dismay, when she pulled the box of Life cereal out of one of the cabinets, it was only to the discovery that the box was nearly empty. Thinking this to be no big deal, she looked in the fridge. There was still plenty of food in it, but the grape popsicles she was seeking specifically were all gone. Slightly ticked, Violet walked over to her room and got out her little red handbag. It had a little bit of money left in it, but, due to buying a lot of gum lately (which she continued to do despite aiming to chew her current piece for as long as possible), there wasn't much.
Violet crossed the hallway, walked through the sitting room, and pressed the button for the Wonkavator. In a moment, the doors opened to reveal Rungdin standing inside the contraption, as usual. Violet stepped inside and looked towards him.
"Does Mr. Wonka allow me to take this thing to his office?"
Rungdin shook his head firmly.
Violet narrowed her eyes. "Well, how about going outside of it? I really need to talk to him!"
Rungdin shrugged. Thinking it over, he gave her a thumbs up after a moment, followed immediately by pointing the index and middle fingers of one hand into his eyes and turning said fingers to point at Violet. She understood this pantomime immediately as, "Okay, but I will be supervising you."
He pressed one of the buttons in the Wonkavator. By instinct, Violet grabbed the side railing and held on tightly for the duration of the minute-and-a-half-long ride.
...
When the eccentric mode of transportation finally stopped inside a room full of geometric-shaped jellybeans that sat around like medium-sized boulders (the room of which appeared to be for entertainment instead of manufacturing), Violet followed Rungdin to an exit nearby, leading into a hallway. They continued to walk until they reached a large, brown door with large lettering on it. Violet assumed that this must be Mr. Wonka's office, the suspicion of which was confirmed by Rungdin.
She put out a fist and rapped on the door.
"Who is it?" Mr. Wonka's distinctly unmistakable voice called out.
"Violet."
Violet could hear soft footsteps approaching the door. When it opened, Mr. Wonka could be seen standing right at the entrance, looking down at Violet. He at first seemed a little testy on account of her approaching a private area, but when he saw that Rungdin was with her, he figured that this must have been an authorized trip to see him.
"I am extraordinarily busy, Violet. Do you need something?"
"Yes. Do you happen to have any snacks available, like popsicles or something?"
"I do not have any on hand at this time. Is the kitchen running low?"
"Well, no; I have a lot of stuff in there still, but not the snacks, you know?"
Mr. Wonka narrowed his eyes and made a stern, concentrated face, his left hand's fingers curled over his lips. "Hmm. Are you all out?"
"Of the really good stuff, yes. May I at least have some money to replenish them?"
Mr. Wonka retracted his fingers, putting the corresponding hand into his pants pocket. "What happened to the money you changed when you arrived here?"
"I spent most of it already."
Mr. Wonka raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. "Really? So soon? How?"
As if on cue, Violet made a snapping noise with her gum. "I bought a lot of chewing gum at the candy store nearby. Yeah, I know that I'm trying to chew this one particular piece for as long as I possibly can, but I still felt like I needed to resupply, just in case."
Mr. Wonka's tone became much more serious than his whimsical self was displaying up to then. "Violet," he responded, all manner of eccentric speech gone, "this is why people plan ahead, especially fiscally. If you were spending your money up to now on something important like school supplies and came up short on cash, that would be one thing. If you were running out of specific essentials—for instance, if you ran out of meals altogether—that also would be one thing. As it stands, you got yourself into this situation via impulse buys and want something that, for nourishment's sake, is merely a treated luxury. I'm sorry, but you're not borrowing any money right now."
Violet's brow furrowed in anger. "But, Mr. Wonka—"
"No. I want you to learn something from this mistake. As a proverb from Loompaland goes, 'If you are wise, you'll listen to me.'"
Fearful that he might close the door, Violet protested, "Gum IS an essential, Mr. Wonka! Heck, you—you—you make it all the time!"
Mr. Wonka grinned mischievously. "Really? I suppose you use it for health or hygiene of sorts?"
Violet was starting to get tired of her foster guardian's frequently appearing snark mode. "Well, no, but have you ever seen me without it?"
"I stand by my word, regardless."
Violet crossed her arms. "Well, how am I supposed to get the money, then?"
Mr. Wonka shrugged. "Why don't you get a job? You're a young adolescent now; lots of people hold small jobs at your age. I frequently glimpse the town's paperboy coming by here now and again when I'm in a room with a window, and I think he's slightly younger than you are."
"Are they even hiring? You know that I can't be seen in the evenings!" Violet practically spat.
"I'm sure you'll find something. You've gotten to know this part of town quite a bit, after all. Oh, and in the future, Violet, if I'm working, please don't come to my office to get me unless there is an absolutely dangerous or life-threatening emergency. I limited you to entering only interactive, playful parts of the factory for a reason." He stepped back inside and closed what little ajar space the door had.
Violet stuck out her tongue and made a raspberry noise. Sighing, she turned to Rungdin. "Could we take the Wonkavator to the main foyer, please?" Rungdin nodded.
The two of them walked back down the hallway, re-entered the room with the giant, geometric jellybeans, stepped into the Wonkavator, and took off towards the entrance. Once there, Violet retrieved her coat, hat, and gloves, opened the front door ever so slightly to make sure that the coast was clear, and took off down the red carpet. Mr. Wonka had given her a little spare key to use on the front gates, with the instruction that the key never leave her trench coat except when it was being washed, so she always got in and out with ease—after checking every time that nobody was present to see an unfamiliar young girl entering or exiting the factory, of course. She unlocked the gates, pushed one open slightly, slipped through the ajar space, and then closed and locked them again. Soon after that, Violet dashed off towards the common area of town.
She was looking for anyone who was hiring part-time.
...
Not looking for any place in particular, Violet came across Bill's Candy Shop in about twenty minutes. She remembered it as the place she came in several times after school to get gum. Curious (especially since she had formed somewhat of a connection from this now), she entered.
"Hello, miss!" Bill greeted upon seeing her. He was a polite, English gentleman with smooth skin and short, brown hair parted down the middle. "Did you come in for more packages of gum today? They're in the usual spot. Feel free to check them out again."
"Actually, no. I'm almost out of money from them," Violet corrected him.
"I see. Well, maybe I can interest you in something else. Have you tried Wonka's new Scrumdiddlyumptious bar yet? It's absolutely delectable! He came out with it last month."
"No, I haven't, but I'm actually not browsing today. I mean it; I AM almost out of money. Did you notice that I don't have my purse with me?"
Bill looked startled but then chuckled suddenly. "Oh, okay! When you said that, I thought that you were exaggerating! Still, how can I help?"
Violet leaned in towards the counter, resting her arms on it. Bill clearly could see her snapping her gum like a cow. "Are you looking for an extra hand?"
"An extra hand? Hmm…not particularly—I mean, this is a rather tiny shop—but I suppose someone helping with inventory couldn't hurt. How old are you, anyway?"
"Fourteen."
"Ah. A part-time job seeker. I get it now."
Bill walked to the flap in the counter, opening the flap to let Violet in back. Violet saw the subsequent beckoning and entered. She then followed Bill to a small storeroom where open cardboard boxes of the candies were set.
"Say, you must be new here," Bill remarked. "I've seen you in here five times before today, but I never got your name. What is it?"
"Violet Beauregarde." Violet answered.
"Pretty!" Bill replied, smiling. "Is that 'Violet' with the English or French spelling?"
"English. I know, my last name's French, but I'm from the United States."
"Oh, so you are new here! Welcome! What brings you here?"
Violet winced. Trying to be as discreet as possible, she answered nervously, "Family stuff. Really, I'd rather not talk about it."
"Oh, okay." Bill sounded guiltily embarrassed. "Well, I'm sorry that you're dealing with that."
Bill turned Violet back to the job description. "So, Violet, if you take this job, the bulk of it basically will be to keep a close eye on how the candies are stocked. If you notice any of them running low during your shift, all you will have to do is to take some from the corresponding boxes out back and refill the area. You also will need to keep the back storage area neat and tidy, so I have a broom and dustpan set provided over here." He indicated them hanging on a hook on the wall.
"That sounds good enough. What will my wages be?"
"I think £2.50 an hour will work. Of course, now that pence aren't quite what they used to be, I may still slip up into the old value. You just let me know if that happens. Fortunately, since I now have to hand out change in new money, I will be much less likely to make that mistake."
"I wouldn't know any better," Violet clarified. "I've never used the pound sterling."
"Oh, yes, that's right. I forgot. Well, I presume that you're quite familiar with decimalization, having grown up on the dollar, correct?"
Violet nodded.
"Well, that's good. You're more used to this than the rest of us already!"
"I can't start this job today, though. After all, I still have homework to do this afternoon, and, of course, I have school five days a week anyway, you know?" Violet told Bill.
"Oh, I wasn't intending for you to start today, miss!" Bill smiled again. "I do have plenty of times open, though. How about a late evening shift so that you have school out of the way?"
Violet went pale. "No, no! Please! Give me any shift but that one!" she said quickly.
"How about the weekends, then? I have Saturdays open in the afternoons. I know that Friday technically isn't on the weekend, but Friday afternoon could work out, too. After all, there's less of a worry about getting one's homework done then. What time do you get off of school?"
"Three o'clock. I think most of them here do; I see younger kids coming out then, too."
"How about Fridays from three-thirty to five o'clock?" Bill suggested.
"It depends. Does it ever start getting dark around five o'clock here?"
"Only in the late fall through the winter. That won't start happening until late October. If you're worried about finding your way home in the dark, I totally understand."
"By then, I might not need quite as many hours." Violet just let Bill believe his assumption.
"That's true," Bill noted. "Students have flexible scheduling needs, after all."
"I'll take it for now, then. How about your Saturday proposal?"
"Does one o'clock to three-thirty sound good?"
"Yeah, sure! I don't have anything planned then yet."
"So, Fridays from three-thirty to five o'clock, and Saturdays from one o'clock to three-thirty?" Bill asked to clarify Violet's final answer.
"Yes, I believe that will work out."
"Excellent!" Bill clapped his hands twice. "Say, Violet, do you have a telephone number or switchboard setting I can use to contact you back?"
"No," Violet answered. "It hasn't been set up. I've been faced with using the public telephone booths. I did it only once, so, come to think of it, it looks like I really DO need money now!"
"Good point!" Bill replied jovially. "Well, you're still local enough. I'll see you this Friday after your school lets out, then?"
"Yep!" Violet called out, heading out of the storeroom and towards the front door.
"That's wonderful! Bye, now!"
Violet left Bill's Candy Shop and hustled back to the factory. It was still the afternoon and wasn't even dinnertime yet, but she still needed to do her homework, and, after all, writing and eating aren't very easy tasks when you have only semi-maneuverable stumps for hands, are they?
A/N: A LOT of research went into parts of this chapter, even though the details involved in the historical accounts were mostly inconsequential (and most of what I read didn't even make it in anyway). For those of you who don't know, the United Kingdom had a government-mandated switch to decimalize the pound sterling on February 15, 1971. It was known officially as "Decimal Day". The pound stayed mostly intact, but its two divisions were altered drastically. The penny (plural: pence) became 1/100th of a pound, exactly the same relationship that the American penny has with the dollar, and the shilling was done away with entirely. Although the day itself went rather smoothly, it took months for some older adults to adjust. For more information, read Decimal Day's Wikipedia article.
Oh, and I realized something as I was working. I very nearly posted this chapter on the anniversary of Denise Nickerson's passing. :-O Surely, that would have been terribly awkward!
