The Ugly Youth (Part Three)

I strolled down Harold Street, the long, tree-lined lane that split the town in two and turned onto the side street where the museum was stood. I had my iPod on shuffle, skipping the ones I didn't fancy every time they started up. The building looked so familiar to me, too familiar. As if I'd been going there everyday for years. A quick rush of dread dawned over me as I thought of the last time I was here. So much anticipation and excitement, only to be quashed by a teenager in flip-flops. Why wear flip-flops anyway? It's not even the summer yet. And have you noticed, the only people who insist on wearing flip-flops can't be bothered to walk properly. They scuttle around, making the rubber tap the ground with every step. Pick your feet up, you idiot!

Anyway, the flip-flops were only part of my dis-liking for Jason. He was taking the piss out of Bernard, his employer. By not working when he should be. He writes a blog about his musical tastes, which is all Maroon Five and all those groups from the hit parade. He drinks milkshakes even though he's an adult and, possibly even worse, took the piss out of my Facebook page. That was the final nail in the coffin.

I stepped into the museum, nodded warmly to the woman at reception in the pink cardigan and walked straight into the computer room. It was empty, which I was happy about and began making room for the overhead projector, set up a main computer for Jason to teach his lesson and rolled down the projection screen. My phone buzzed.


'Allison, hi!'
'Afternoon. I rang earlier...'
'Oh, yeah. Had my iPod on.'
'Shuffle?'
'Yeah.'
'Cool. My mum and the class are on their way.'

Brilliant. What was even more brilliant was the fact that Allison miss-timed her call thanks to my iPod, because as soon as I pushed the button to end the call, the full school class wandered into the room, followed by a beaming woman. Allison's mum. Or Mrs Krueger, as the children called her.


'Dylan, nice to meet you. Thank you for arranging this.'

Janet was a smiley woman, with kind eyes that made you comfortable in her presence. She was dressed smartly in pastel colours, ushering the children to take their seats with pleasant chirps. It's an odd way to meet your girlfriends mother, but I fully recommend it. I made the kids some juice as they logged on to the computers, a row of small students in bright red jumpers. Unlike most children I see, they were all silent and polite, like how you imagine children in the olden days used to be. Only you swap the abacus's with top of the range monitors that were five hundred quid a time.

Jason soon arrived, clutching a phone, keys and a bottle of water. His face dropped, just like I imagined it would.


'What's...going on? Hi Dylan.'
'Hey, we're just setting up for your lesson.' I smiled, handing one of the small people a cup of orange.
'My lesson?'
'Yeah, you know...the lesson you've prepared. I told you about it yesterday...on Facebook.'
'But you're not my friend on Facebook.'

There's a reason for that, dick head.


'Really?' I asked. 'Ah, well. They're ready when you are.' 


Jason swallowed hard, took his place at the back of the room and logged on. The screen faded up quickly with that annoying 'Welcome Back!' noise, displaying a desktop full of minimized windows. In the two seconds he had them all visible, I could see he was halfway through an episode of '24', chatting to three friends, writing his blog and had began a Google search for local mountain bike shops. There started four agonisingly pleasurable minutes of Jason clicking away, the silence only filled by the hum of the monitors in the room. Then something amazing happened. He clicked onto his chat window and typed these words.


'Got to go, teaching a lesson to a bunch of rems.'


I know this because his screen was projected behind him, onto the screen for the room to see. Thankfully none of the kids read it. But Janet did.


'What was that?' Janet said, staying in her seat.
'What?' Jason looked up.
'What did you just type?'
'I was just setting up the programme.'
'No you weren't. It came up on the screen.'

Jason paused as his face scrunched up, trying to figure out what she was saying. Janet pointed behind him, making him turn slowly. This was brilliant because I didn't have to do anything. This was all unfolding without out any work. I could just sit back, maybe start a game of solitaire, check my e-mails. But I didn't. I just sat next to Janet and witnessed my revenge.


'Oh,. I was just saying goodbye to a friend. Well, she's not a friend. We went out for a bit...'

What a self-absorbed prick.


'What an odd way to say goodbye to a friend.'
'She's not really a friend.'
'I don't care.' Janet said abruptly. 'Can I speak to your manager, please?'
'Yes.' Jason said, clambering out of his seat and heading for the door.

Janet peered around the room, making sure none of her children had seen what Jason had written. Luckily not, they were all busy playing with the programme I opened for them, matching pictures of science apparatus with their names.


'I'm sorry about that, Janet. I'll start for him.'

I know what you're thinking, Jason didn't have a lesson planned and neither do you. Well, I did. I opened up a new programme, Janet told the kids to pay attention and I began, slowly reading out my notes and talking light-heartedly about simple ideas. I asked the children to talk about what they use in their bedrooms that may require electrical current, meanwhile Jason and a rather confused Bernard appeared in the door-frame. Jason was about to walk right it, but Bernard stopped him, letting me finish my lesson and Jason finish sweating in his flip-flops.
























'

The Ugly Youth (Part Two)

'Found you...'

'What are you doing?' I said, quickly sitting down.
'You work at the supermarket? Just down the road?'
'Yeah, a bit.' I defended myself.
'Fuck me. Pushing trolleys?'


I knew I shouldn't have put that on my page. Why couldn't I have just said 'Services'?

'So what?'

Jason just laughed and called the other lads over to his computer. I headed for the staff room.

'Bernard, I've just realised, I have to pick a friend up from the airport.'

'Oh, do you drive?'

'No...'

I hadn't thought of that. I should have known not to try and bullshit a scientist.

'Oh, OK. Well, did you enjoy your stay?'

I was about to answer, when I heard Jason and the gang erupt in another roar of laughter. 

'Erm...yeah.' I squalked, a beed of sweat making it's way down my forehead.
'Well, I'm glad. I'll give you a ring in the morning and we can discuss your shifts.'

That was the best and worst thing I'd ever heard. This lovely man, halfway through his crossword and third cup of tea, asking me to come and work with him. Yet on the other hand, through the hallway, a scoffing pack of dogs, laughing and joking at the expence of my Facebook page. They've got no grace. They're probably flicking through my photo albums, tittering at every site of my smiling face. Oh God, Grandad Joe's Birthday Party 2006. God, please don't let them view Grandad Joe's Birthday Party 2006. The night I kissed Aunt Meredith and was caught of camera by my cousin. Another round of jeers came from the computer room. I smiled at Bernard and scuttled out of the building. Fleeing from my taunters. That bloody Grandad Joe's Birthday Party 2006 photo album! I knew I should have deleted that bastard!



'So how was it? Tell me everything!'

Allison had an annoying way of making everything sound exciting. Why do I have to tell her everything about yesterday? I don't have to. Girlfriends can't make you do everything. That only happens when you're married, according to my Dad. We were up in the canteen, the day after my quick exit at the Science Museum.

'It was good.' I said, shrugging and smiling at the same time.
'Yeah...' She nodded, urging me to say more.

I just sat there and sipped my Coca Cola, I'd have bought a Diet Coke but after yesterday, I deserved it.

'What did you get up to?'
'Just had a look around. Nice building.'

I'm sure she wasn't interested in the state of the building, but if she had have been, I'd have gone further to delay any more information. I'd have printed out blueprints and notes from constuction workers, enough detail to make her interested in the creation and architecture of the building. She paused a bit longer, which made me give in and tell her a bit more.


'I worked in the computer room with a few lads. They...we....' I grinned .'...have school classes in three times a week.'
'Oh, cool. You could have my mum's class. They're primary school level.'


At first I just smiled politely and had another sip of my can. A generic reaction to a suggestion. But after a few moments, a plan began to grow in my head. Dare I say it, a cunning plan. Allison's Mum's primary school class coming to the Science Museum. Then, in front of Bernard, Jason and all those guys would have to work.    It's so simple. In the morning I made a phone call. It needed to be short notice.


'Bernard?'
'Dylan, how are things?'
'Good. Good.'
'I was going to drop you an e-mail...'
'I know, but I have an idea for today.'
'Go on...'
'A friend of mine has a primary school class. They'd love to come to the museum.'
'Oh great, when are they available?' He asked.
'Today. Around three.'


Bernard checked over his diary and after a few seconds I heard the phone click around as he held it back to his ear.


'Three is great, Dylan.'
'Great. Oh, and I've told Jason and the guys about it. They know what they're doing.'
'Really? How did you get in touch with them?' He asked.
'Facebook.'

Yeah, Bernard. Facebook. I definitely spoke to him on Facebook. Right after I deleted Grandad Joe's Birthday Party 2006 photo album. That fucking Grandad Joe's Birthday Party 2006 photo album! Today I will get my revenge!

End of part two.

The Ugly Youth (Part One)

The museum is a relatively unnoticeable building if you're wandering around town. But if you know where it is and are heading for it, standing right outside is kind of intimidating. It looks like the cross between a massive bank and a downsized library. I turned up around twenty minutes early for my day with Bernard, staring open mouthed at its huge windows and smooth brown bricks with a golden plaque above the archway. I always arrive early for things. Simply because I hate it when people are late. Normally I would walk around the corner, maybe buy a drink from the off license and pretend to look at my text messages. But today I walked straight in there, introduced myself confidently to the nice old woman in the pink cardigan behind the desk and sat down in the air conditioned foyer.

I hadn't thought about anything else but this day all weekend. The thought of me working in this place, with Bernard and his old Science friends. Old men in tweed suits, that's what I imagined all weekend. I get on with old people, I know a lot about Sciences...this job was for me. Allison believed it too, buying my a new tie for the occasion. Add that to my standard wedding/funeral/christening grey suit and I was looking good, feeling confident and ready for the day.

Bernard met me with a warm smile, asked me if I found the place OK and offered me a cup of tea.


'Yes, please.'
'Sugar?' He asked.
'No, I'm sweet enough.' I smiled.

He chuckled as if he was going to use that line the future and led me into the staff room.


'Basically we have four main rooms. The lab room, which we use for lessons when the school children come in. We have around three classes a week. Are you experienced with working with children?'

Of course I am, I helped to get a trapped toddler's leg out of a trolley last week.


'I little bit.'  nodded.
'Good. The computer room, where all colleagues work most of the time.'
'Oh, right. Do they know how to use them?'

Bernard lowered his furry eyebrows at me and peered through his glasses. It seemed like a good question to me, old people in tweed can't use the internet. That's a scientific fact. He's a scientist. He should know.


'Yes...' He strained in confusion.
'Oh...good.' I nodded.

We sipped our tea in the staff room on the comfy chairs. He went through all the admin stuff, including my salary, which I was pleased with, and soon we were on our way to the computer room. It was there that I realised why Bernard's reaction to my question was so odd. The computer room was a vast row of monitors, all humming the same high pitched tone within the peach coloured walls. Sat in the chairs were six or seven lads all around the same age, a few years younger than me.


'Oh, do you have college students in too?' I asked.
'No, no. These are our colleagues.'

Jason was first up to greet me, in ripped jeans, a half grown beard and flip-flops. I hated him instantly.


'Dylan, Jason. Nice to see you.' He shook my hand softly.
'Jason has been here the longest so you'll spend the day with him. I'll report back at 4pm.'

I nodded and looked at Jason, who was chewing violently.


'OK, i'll leave you two to it.'

Bernard walked out of the room, leaving Jason to show me to the computer next to him.


'Give me a sec, bro. I'm just finishing my blog.'
'OK.'

A 'Sec' turned into twenty five minutes. In that time he finished his blog about the new iPad, sent three e-mails and finished a phone conversation with someone called 'Carnage'.


'Right. What do you need to know?' he looked at me.
'I don't know. Bernard asked me hear to spend the day. You know, to get to know the place.'
'Oh, right. That old fart.' He sighed.

I was offended for him. Jason logged into his YouTube account while I panned the room. These people were meant to be working, when all I could see were a group of 20 year olds messing about on computers. They were taking the piss. Getting paid for doing nothing. Well, if you count looking at cats in peril nothing.


'Check this out, Damien. Cat stuck in a window...' Jason chuckled. 'Fucking brilliant.'
'So, when do you start work?' I asked, cutting through the room of belly laughs.
'Well, we have a class of sixth formers in this afternoon.' He said, turning down to volume of the 'Cat vs Window' video. 'Bernard wants us to teach them about Science in the workplace. You know, how things work and all that shit.'
'Oh, right...'
'But Damien's trying to download the new episode of Lost so it may go out the window. Damo!' He shouted across the room. 'Has it finished downloading yet?'
'No, 57 percent!' Damo shouted back.
'Typical. Do you watch Lost?'
'No.'

Jason scoffed.


'Do you know what it's about?'
'Clue's in the title.' I said softly.

An hour passed by. I logged on to my computer using the default registration and perused the system. Programme after programme of Science modules for anyone to dig into. And good ones as well. Science for the elderly, disabled, hard of hearing, primary school children, you name it. It was such a pity it was not getting used. I looked around the room again, these guys were enjoying themselves. On a good wage, wearing their own clothes. I could be one of these guys. Sure I didn't like them very much, but I don't like most people when I first meet them. Just imagine, working here full time. Engaging with the young people of today. So what it's not fully about Science? Kids don't like Science. We all know what they do like are illegally downloaded American import Dramas and videos of animals in pain. These guys were winning me around. Jason took off his expensive looking headphones and looked at me.


'I'm going to go grab a milkshake, you want one?'
'Er...yeah, sure.' I smiled.
'Cool.'

Jason trotted out of the room, his flip-flops making that annoying sound as he passed. I took my empty cup back to the office where Bernard was sat, reading a stack of notepapers.


'Dylan, how are you getting on?' He spoke whilst still reading.
'Good. Good. Jason seems like a nice lad.'

Pretentious dick, more like.


'Oh yeah, hard worker too. He got a bunch of 2nd years making heat lamps yesterday.'
'Really? Did you sit in with them.'
'No, I was in a meeting. He told me.'

Maybe 'Making heat lamps' was slang for 'Drinking milkshakes.' I bet the only science Jason has experienced is putting sweets into a bottle of Coke and watching it shoot out of the top. I wandered back into the computer room where Jason was sat, slurping his drink and staring at a Facebook page. It was only when I got closer I realised it was my Facebook page.


'Found you...'
'What are you doing?' I said, quickly sitting down.
'You work at the supermarket? Just down the road?'
'Yeah, a bit.' I defended myself.
'Fuck me. Pushing trolleys?'

I knew I shouldn't have put that on my page. Why couldn't I have just said 'Services'?


'So what?'

Jason just laughed and called the other lads over to his computer.


I'd kill for an old man in tweed right now.


End of part one.

Jack To The Future

You know when you're in the wrong job when the first five minutes of your shift includes watching a 46 year old man give sex advice to a 15 year old boy.


'In the early eighties it was all different. You could give a girl a slap on the arse...'
'Steve.' I tried.
'It was the done thing back then.' Steve continued. 'Nowadays...I don't know. It's all changed. You go as far as touching her arse and you're in a court case.'


Jack was Fran's younger brother and due to a child minding miscommunication and a day off school, she was struggling for a place to put him for the day. Alex suggested he come to work and learn all about how his big sister works on the checkouts. Sharon didn't like that, but didn't want to seem harsh on the little lad, and palmed him off to us outside.


'Alex, did he have to come here?' I asked.
'He had no where else to go.' Alex arched his shoulders. 'Fran finishes at two, and besides, child minding puts me in her mum and dad's good books. Jack is the favourite.'

Of course he is. All younger siblings are the favourites. They don't go through that couple of years of being second best whilst your brother swans around in his nappy, making all the relatives melt.


'But take your time, dude. There's plenty fish in the world.' Steve said, nudging Jack warmly in the shoulder. 'Does that answer your question?'
'What question?' Jack looked up at him.

Jack hadn't asked Steve anything. In fact, I don't think Jack had said anything at all up to that point. Jack was quite small for a 15 year old, a bright red face that matched his worn football shirt.


'I'm just saying.' Steve continued. 'There are loads of girls out there...take your time. Try them all...'
'Steve! Can you stop talking filth to him!' I warned him.
'It's not filth, it's information.'

I left Steve and Jack with Alex and went up to the canteen. It was just past half twelve and a couple of minutes late for mine and Allison's scheduled and cleverly synchronised dinner break. I bought us two cartons of Ribena and split open a packet of Discos for us to share on the corner table.


'So, what did Bernard say in the e-mail?'

Allison had a great way of making me feel excited about things. I try to play things down to stay calm. Being British, I tend to repress real excitement. We either grit our teeth a bit tighter or get completely pissed. We don't know how to deal with it.


'He just said he enjoyed meeting with me last week. Thinks I would be perfect for the team. Wondered if I minded coming down on Monday for a look around.' I shrugged.

I did the amateur thing of trying to act casual in explaining what Bernard wrote, but instead I managed to repeat the whole e-mail word for word. All bar the hello's and goodbye's.


'Do you think he'll offer you a job?' Allison looked at me.

That was the first time I thought about Bernard offering me a job. I know it sounds mad because that's the reason I applied and the reason he came down to visit me. But I was preparing so much for his arrival and so pleased in how it all turned out in the end, I guess it slipped my mind. The harsh reality hit me, forming into a flash of excitement and panic.


'I don't know.' I shrugged. 'I guess I'll find out on Monday.'
'You could be just what they're after. New blood, you know?'
'Yeah...'

I sipped my drink and paused for a moment, visioning dozens of old men in lab coats, scuttling around the museum as if it was some kind of ward. If Bernard was anything to go by, they'll all be wearing blazers with leather elbow pads and reading glasses, listening to Radio 4. Allison was right, maybe I was what they needed. A fresh injection of youth. I could make the place more modern, use today's culture to appeal to the kids. I could get a name badge and we could turn over to Radio 1 to hear Chris Moyles. Teach the old folks how to use the internet.


'You'll be fine.' She smiled.
'Yeah...be a bit weird leaving this place.' I looked around the half-empty canteen.
'Weird...but good.'
'Means I won't see you as much.'
'You're not getting rid of me that easily!'

We both chuckled loudly, making the dinner ladies look up at us.


'This is what you want to do, Dylan.'

Her words stuck in my head. It is what I want to do. Well, It was when I graduated. It's amazing how working here numbs everything else. It would be a nice change. Suddenly I started thinking seriously about working at the museum. A new start. I can finally be one of those ex-colleagues who swagger back into the store to buy their lunch, safe in the knowledge that I used to work there and I am now a little bit better than everyone else. You don't say it out loud, of course. It's just in the air.


'Yeah, it would be a nice change.' I smiled.

I looked down from the canteen to the car park. Steve caught my eye, under the trolley bay with Jack in a headlock.


'I'd better get down there.' 

When I eventually got down there, Steve had progressed from his head lock and now had Jack on the floor with his arm clamped behind his back.


'Steve! What the hell are you doing?'
'Relax, mate. I'm teaching him self-defense.'

I doubted that. It looked like he was teaching him how to break his arm on the car park of a supermarket. Jack was shouting at him to let go, and after a few more seconds of holding him down, he slowly let go and finished his lecture.


'So, remember. If you're ever in a tight spot. Chicken wing.' Steve motioned the move again. 'Get's them every time.'

When Jack got to his feet, he ran at Steve and aimed a kick at Steve's legs. Steve managed to dodge the kick but dodged the wrong way, angling the foot just right, hitting him square in the nadgers. Steve went down with a pained cry. Jack ran off.


'So does that.' I said.
'Fuck off!' Steve squealed.

I thought working at the museum would be a nice change. But things change around this place. At 11am you could be administering relationship advice to a child, at 1pm you could be administering an ice pack to your swollen balls.