Trivial Pursuits

Though not yet twenty, Crasto was tall and well-built. With his broad shoulders, towering stature and bushy beard, he looked like a grizzly bear.

The man he was staring at was more than twice his age, wore spectacles and had grey hair. He looked more like an academician than the owner of a firm that marketed electric mixers.

They were facing each other across the expanse of the older man’s desk, located inside a tiny cabin in a small rental property overlooking a street in the city limits.

The owner was shaking his head slowly. His expression was stony. “This is the second month running that you have not achieved your targets.”

Looking out the grimy window of the second-floor office, Crasto stared at his father’s grey Toyota which was parked on the road below. His day had not gotten off to a great start. His alarm had failed him that morning and he had missed not only his regular bus shuttle but the one after that. In desperation he had grabbed the keys of his father’s car and driven like mad to his workplace. Traffic had been heavy and he reached ten minutes late. The boss-man had cornered him on entry then hauled him into his cabin for some harsh words.

The single ceiling fan whirred noisily in the ensuing silence, the creaking of old bearings making Crasto’s shackles rise. “Sir, I’ll do better next month-”

It was the boss’s turn to grimace. He waved a hand at the outer office. “You see those mixers outside? I have to sell two hundred units each month just to keep this firm running! Forget about profits! I have four sales-staff who leave each morning and whose only job is to sell-sell-sell. Sell the merchandise and bring home the money. That’s how this business works. Without sales I can’t make money and if I don’t do that, I can’t survive.” He looked gravely at Crasto “You’ve been working for me for four months now. I could overlook the poor showing of the first two months, because you were inexperienced, but when the following months are just as bad, it tells me something. It tells me that you don’t have what it takes to sell my products, and to me, that means you are as good as useless.”

Crasto stiffened at the blunt language but said nothing when the other man lapsed into silence. Maybe if he tried not to take offence and held his tongue, the old geezer might take it as a sign of remorse. He hoped he wouldn’t be too harsh. God knows Crasto needed the money, especially since his girlfriend’s birthday was coming up within the week. She would be expecting something nice, something expensive, and Crasto had been wracking his brains on what to buy her as a gift. Without his pay-check he was sunk.

Crasto realised his boss was saying something. “-just don’t have the qualities that I need. You need to be skilful and persuasive and charming and you are so obviously none of that, Crasto. You are not cut out for this sort of work and it’s now clear to me that I cannot afford to have someone with your lack of talents working for my organization.”

Organization? Crasto almost laughed out loud. What did the old crackpot think he was running – Google? It was just a two-bit enterprise operating out of premises not much larger than his garage back in the suburbs. Despite his best efforts, a smirk found its way onto Crasto’s features.

“Crasto?” said his employer sharply. “Did you hear what I just said?”

Crasto looked down at the envelope that the other man had pushed across.

“I said: you’re fired.”

Crasto slunk out of the workplace, his expression sullen. He didn’t look up at any of the other staff as he passed them on the way out. He took the steps one at a time, wary despite his foul mood. He had almost fallen down the damn steps the first time he had descended. The incline was sharp and the steps were not wide enough for an adult foot. Plus there was the matter of the bad lighting.

When Crasto got on to the street, it was just after nine. Many of the shops on both sides had not yet opened for business and there was little foot traffic. But he knew from experience that it would soon change, thanks to the swanky new mall that had come up at the end of the block. In another hour, this road would be choked with auto-rickshaws and two-wheelers. Happy families and excited teenagers would be heading for the mall, looking forward to a day of shopping, fun and good food.

It made Crasto think about the birthday gift for his girlfriend. His boss had cut half his salary and now he had hardly anything with which to go shopping. He had earlier decided to spend the whole month’s pay on her gift – and now he was out of a job.

Crasto wondered how his day could possibly get worse.

He saw the car turn onto his road and turned to stare. It was a gleaming silver Jaguar and its sleek lines made him gape in pure envy. The machine swept forward a few feet and then ground to a stop, its wheels screeching as they bit into the road-top. Crasto could see that the driver was a youngster, maybe just a teenager, and he was laughing and gesturing to a friend in the adjacent seat.

Crasto could not take his eyes off the two young men he could see behind the windshield, both wearing aviator glasses and grinning widely like they didn’t have a care in the world. He saw the driver spin the steering wheel about and throw the car into reverse.

The sound of the Jaguar hitting the parked Toyota behind was not loud but to Crasto, who had been witnessing the progression of events, it sounded like a thunderclap.

Crasto hurried across the road and then froze when he saw the car behind. The back bumper of the Jaguar had been rammed deeply into the metalwork of the front door of the Toyota.

The driver’s window slid down noiselessly and the young man inside stuck his head out. “Hey, man!” He called out to Crasto. “Did I just hit something?”

Crasto stared at the driver as if unable to believe his ears. Then his anger bubbled to the surface and he shouted. “You bloody idiot! You just rammed my car!” The driver shrank visibly at the menace in his manner. “I can’t believe it! My car is parked at the side of the road – and you just hit it! What are you – blind?” He had advanced as he spoke, the words coming out like bullets, and as he leaned forward toward the open window, his nose picked up the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“Hey, man, take it easy.” muttered the driver, cringing. “It was an accident.”

Crasto fought to control his anger. “I want you to get out of your car and come see what you’ve done.”

The driver looked at his companion then turned back to Crasto with a worried look. “How bad can it be, man? It’s just a car, huh?”

Crasto suppressed the urge to yank the glasses of his snooty nose. “Get out of the damn car before I smash something up!”

“Okay, no need to get hyper.” grumbled the driver and got out.

Crasto had to straighten as the door opened, and take a step backward. He looked the youngster up and down: there wasn’t a square inch of real estate that wasn’t covered in designer-wear, from the Gucci aviators to the Armani jeans. Even his hair-style looked like it had been imported direct from Paris.

He went with Crasto to study the damage to the Toyota then shrugged. “OK.” He said again. “You can fix it up, right? It’s just metalwork. Your mechanic will just hammer it into place or something. No big deal.”

“Not for you, maybe.” growled Crasto, trying not to recoil from the alcohol on his breath. “Now what are you going to do about this mess?”

In reply, the youngster fished out a wallet and counted out some bills. “This is five grand.”

Crasto managed with great difficulty to keep his mouth shut. He stared at the notes that were being held out and swallowed. “Uh… I don’t know.” He looked at the dent doubtfully. “It looks like a lot of damage. There will be the metalwork and the paint-job to consider. Five thousand might not cover it. It could easily be double that if there’s some damage underneath the metal.” He shrugged. “How would I know: I’m no mechanic.”

A small group of onlookers had gathered, drawn by the spectacle of two grown-ups having a verbal duel in public. The few two wheelers that had entered the road managed to move past the Jaguar which was still partly blocking access.

“Hey, what’s the hold-up?” It was the driver’s companion, and to Crasto’s ears, his voice sounded whiny. The driver looked at his friend and explained. The other lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture. “So give him some more cash and let’s get out of here, Ravi! We’re going to be late for the movie.”

The driver looked at him crossly. “That’s all I have! What you want me to do: give the bugger my damn credit cards?” He pointed at the dent. “How much do you think that’s going to cost to repair, huh?”

His friend made a how-the-heck-do-I-know sign.

“What about you: you got any cash on you?”

The friend shook his head. “All I’m carrying is plastic, man.” His face brightened. “Hey, why don’t you give him the mobile we were going to exchange?” He saw Crasto’s confused look. “How about this? We’ll give you a brand new iPhone to hold as collateral until you get your car fixed. If the cost is over five thousand, Ravi will settle the balance with your mechanic, and then you can give him the iPhone back.”

Ravi didn’t look happy. “Hey, you know I was going to exchange it after the movie because I wanted another model.”

“It’s only collateral, man. Once his car is fixed, you’ll get it back and then we can go exchange it.” He looked at Crasto. “What do you say, huh, man? It’s a brand new device; we have the bill as well.”

“Show it to me.” ordered Crasto, deciding quickly. They went to the Jag and Ravi took out a box whose packing was still intact. The bill, from an Apple flagship store, was next to it and Crasto’s eyebrows went up in tandem when he saw the price. He nodded, unable to find the words.

“Here’s my visiting card.” said Ravi. “You give me a call once your car is fixed.” He slid behind the wheel of his Jaguar.

Crasto stepped back. He looked again at the expensive mobile in his hands, unable to believe what had just happened. Was he imagining the whole thing? He wondered, and patted his pocket to check that the cash was still there. It was, the whole damn bundle.

He watched as the Jaguar slipped out of the road and disappeared from view. The group watching the proceedings broke up and scurried away to their own lives, and Crasto was left staring at the dent in the side of the black Toyota.

It looked very bad.

The owner of the black Toyota was going to be very upset when he saw the dent.

Holding the iPhone carefully under his arm, he moved away from the Toyota and walked unhurriedly down the road until he reached his father’s grey Toyota.

Crasto looked at the iPhone with a smile. His girlfriend was going to be one happy babe when she opened her birthday gift next week.

–END–