Job Fair
Job Fair
Bright and early the next morning, the Autobots gathered in front of the Ark. Mumbles of what was going to be announced rumbled through the ranks. Optimus slowly made his way to the front of the motley group and explained their dire situation, and the only idea that they'd been able to come up with to rectify it.
The mumbles became grumbles, as most of the Autobots were not highly thrilled with this idea, but yet, none of them could come up with any other viable solutions.
"Sorry we're late Prime." Bumblebee stammered, as he pulled up in a cloud of dust and let his two passengers get out.
"Well I'll be a rusted Con," exclaimed Ironhide as he looked at the two humans. "Didn't know a change of clothes could make a human look so different."
Tracks whistled at the two. "You guys look like your ready for a night on the town, very impressive."
Spike and Sparkplug looked at each other, uncomfortable by all the attention that their dress clothes were drawing. Trying to loosen his tie a little, Sparkplug tried to make his starched collar less restrictive. "Well, I made some calls to some ol' high school buds of mine. Turns out a bunch of them have got jobs in high places now. Several of them are driving in from Vegas today," he explained to the Mechs.
Spike grinned in excitement and slapped his dad on the shoulder. "Turned out that one of dad's old flames is now upper management at the Luxor! She knows everyone! And she's bringing them here!"
"Well Autobots, I guess we need to prepare for this job fair. So go and shine yourselves up before these people arrive." Looking down at his human friends, Optimus nodded his thanks. "Sparkplug, you have our thanks." Grinning behind his mask, the Mech continued; "and you do look very respectable without your hard hat."
Leaving the meeting, the Autobots began to prepare for their first interviews ever.
Recruitment
Around noon, several limos drove down the dusty road toward the Ark. Plumes of whirling desert sand spun lazily in the hot air currents, announcing their arrival even before the Autobot sentries spotted the cars.
Spike and Sparkplug hurriedly put their sport coats back on and ran out to meet them. Opening the doors to the limos for the occupants. A well-dressed, middle-aged woman, laughed as Sparkplug offered his hand for a handshake. Pulling him to her, she gave him a huge hug. "Now Sparkplug, you knew I was getting a divorce back during our last class reunion, you should've called me a long time ago old friend."
Sparkplug turned a shade of red matching Ironhide's chassis. He stuttered a reply, but was cut off by Bumblebee coming over and introducing himself to the hotel Manager.
The Manager's name was Janet, and with her contacts she had brought representatives from: FedEx, Las Vegas Police, Nevada State Troopers, Vegas Cab Service, Trans-America Construction, and many others. These individuals eyed the Autobots, deciding which ones would physically fit their job openings. After splitting the Autobots up into the various groups, they began to interview each Mech.
Last free night
"So what'd you get?" Sideswipe asked Prowl as the Mechs sat around drinking energon and discussing the jobs they would each start the next day.
Prowl cocked his head, looking at the prankster like he was a dunce. "Cop."
"Yep, guess that makes sense. So'd you get state or city?" the red Lamborghini asked.
Prowl sighed, he was forever surrounded by jokers. "State. I'll be running with the Commercial Enforcement troop."
Sideswipe started laughing. "Hey Huffer, you better not run over weight – or Prowl here will arrest your aft!"
Huffer just glared back at the jokester, he wasn't thrilled about running a designated FedEx route from Vegas to Burbank, but a job was a job. At least Prime got stuck with the same gig.
Sunstreaker wandered over and sat next to his twin, his foul mood showing on his face. "I can't believe we're going to be stuck babysitting drunks! They'd better not puke, or I'll throw them out on the road!"
Bluestreak caught what he was grumbling about, his optics widening in interest, he turned around. "So what did you two end up getting?"
Sideswipe grinned. "Oh that? Sparkplug's old girlfriend got us hired on at the Luxor. We're the official rides for their 'high rollers'," slapping his twin on his door he chuckled. "Tell you what brother, I'll take the young ones that like to have a good time – you take the rich old farts that need walkers to get around." Dodging his brother's cuff, Sideswipe inched closer to Bluestreak.
"I heard you and Smokescreen got hired on together – so what are your gigs?" he whispered, wondering if they'd have as much fun as he thought he was going to.
Bluestreak grinned, "pace cars. We also get to test the track before every race, see how fast we can go."
"Pace cars huh? Sounds like one cool gig!" Jazz said, overhearing Bluestreak. Blaster sat down next to him. "Me and 'ol Blaster here got DJ gigs at the Luxor."
"We're going to be rockin' down on cool tunes all night long!" Blaster nodded, giving a high-five to his musical co-hort.
"Well I'll make sure NOT to take my passengers there. I'll only run the class A club route." Tracks said, as he walked by them. "After all, if they pay me to be their high-class ride, then I have to make sure they only get the best."
After Tracks was out of ear shot, Sideswipe snickered "I'd hate to hail that cab!" Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Did you hear about 'ol Wheeljack?" Jazz asked them. They all shook their heads. "ol slogger got a job at the Ford plant; in the Research and Development Division."
Bluestreak rolled his optics. "Hope he doesn't blow anything up!" his statement caused a few of the Autobots to roll on the floor in laughter, for many of Wheeljack's inventions had turned an Autobot black with soot.
Hound came up, his face beaming in excitement. They all asked him what his gig was. "Oh, I'll be taking tourists out to the Canyons and showing them around," he answered, his optics showing how pleased he was. Then he whispered; "did you Mechs hear what Powerglide got?"
They all shook their heads, leaning in to hear what the cocky plane had gotten stuck with.
"Crop dusting."
"You gotta be kidding!" Bluestreak snickered, imagining the cocky plane having to fly low and slow.
Hound grinned, "But that's not as bad as Perceptor's gig."
"Oh, do tell us man." Blaster chimed.
The jeep shrugged, his grin getting bigger. "Testing water quality at the Sewage Treatment Plant."
Chuckles went round the group again. "Anybody know about Bumblebee?" Sideswipe asked.
"Oh, him? He's on at the retirement center, driving the old farts to their doctor's appointments." Smokescreen yelled from across the room.
"What about Ratchet?" Hound asked him.
A few Mechs talked for a second, and then Smokescreen answered him. "He's working EMS duty at the NFL games; the lucky slogger gets sideline tickets!"
Sideswipe nodded, sounded like fun. "Did you hear what 'ol Ironhide got?" he whispered in a low tone.
Leaning towards the red Mech, Bluestreak couldn't wait to hear. "No, what?"
Trying to hide back his chuckles, Sideswipe blurted; "flower delivery."
The gray Mech's optics got big in amusement. "You've got to be kidding! Ironhide delivering FLOWERS?!"
"Yep."
A few other Mechs had overheard the conversation; howls of laughter ran through the ranks. Stopping quickly when old Ironhide came in the room; knowing something was amiss, and it probably centered on his employment, the old Mech glared at them. This caused many of them to start chuckling again. "If any of you sloggers says even one thing – I'm going to fill your mouth with some liquid nitrogen!" he threatened and stormed out of the room.
Roars of laughter began after the doors closed.
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