"Hey," Jason started, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Why isn't the work finished?"
The fat guy nad Bart barely looked up, lazily smirking. "What? Oh... Too lazy, man. Besides, I figured Mr. Cross here should learn a thing or two about how real work is done. You know, seeing as you co from money and all."
Jason's jaw tightened. Of course, it was always about that... his past, his na, his family's fortune. People who didn't even know his story treated him like a joke. And this guy, laughing in his face, was no different.
"So let guess... you're not going to do your part?" Jason asked, his voice strained with barely contained anger. However, that seed to make the atty even more unbridled.
The guy laughed louder, mocking him. "You should be thanking , man. I'm doing you a favour. But instead, you're talking all this crap? Anyway, who said it's my part? Who said anything about it being mine to handle? It's not mine! I don't see a contract anywhere."
Jason clenched his fists, feeling a rage bubble up inside him. Motherfucker. He'd trusted soone again. Just like with his so-called friends from university. Just like with everyone else who had eventually turned their backs on him.
Jason sighed yet again. He was angry at himself now. Why? Because why was he always sighing? This again, was his fault.
He did not communicate effectively and set up a mutually beneficial circumstance. Human behaviour will always prioritise benefits. The fatty did not respect him, so why would he do anything for him?
Man the fuck up and take responsibility!
"Forget it," Jason muttered, listening to the voice in his head. He was not getting paid to argue with idiots like this guy. Ms. Veronica, his boss, had given him this job out of kindness and Jason was not about to waste it.
While everyone else took him for dirt on the ground, she saw a gem. He had to prove himself worthy of the chance she had offered.
Jason ignored the fatty, who watched him walk over to the shelves and start sorting the boxes while ntally blocking him out with a snide smirk on his face. "Heh! Pussy." After leaving those words behind, the fatty walked out, probably about to pack up and leave the store after a "long day's work".
Jason paid him no mind anymore. He probably had to work until late because of this, but who else was going to do it if not for him? Anyway, he knew how to work hard. He always had, even as the "spoiled rich kid" everyone thought he was before. That was how he was always the best at everything he did.
He understood systems and chanisms, inputs and outputs. As long as you understood input, system and output, you would realise that to get a certain input all you need was a certain input, and let the system handle the rest. Life was just like that.
The harder you worked, and the smarter your hard work was, the further you would go. Such a simple principle, and yet the implications were profound.
Anyway, Jason's smarts were now telling him to make the most of what little he had left. And this job was a treasure in that "little" so Jason would take care of it. As Jason moved the boxes and dealt with them, things went smoothly for a few hours. One box, however, seed to want to trouble Jas.
It was awkwardly lodged in the top shelf, wedged in such a way that it was nearly impossible to pull down. Jason eyed it carefully, shaking his head. To live is to struggle. Life was sending him yet another one. Apparently, he had to be grateful for these little struggles. Just how grateful was yet to be seen.
Anyway, if he used the rig, the entire shelf might co crashing down. He had no other option. Jason braced himself to climb up. If he did this carefully, even without the proper equipnt, he could dislodge the box and then co back down and use the rig to take care of the rest.
Having made up his mind Jason climbed up, and at first, everything went as smoothly as he expected. Work hard, and smart! Stretching his arm when he reached as close as he could to the box, Jason felt sothing slip below, and all he could say was "Oh shit," as his foot slipped.
Jason tried to control his fall, but with the rig below him, he ended up tumbling onto its roof and then onto the floor where a jarring pain shot through his body, his vision blurred montarily from the impact.
Groaning, Jason lay there, the cold floor pressing against his back. He could already feel the dull throb of a concussion. And maybe sothing like a few broken ribs. Just great, how the hell am I going to pay my dical bills, he thought to himself before losing consciousness while staring up at the towering selves before him.
Jason would not know this then but this mont was sothing that would reshape him. It was more than just a fall. It was a turning point. E would look back on this mont, on this day that was characterised by one bad luck event after another, as sothing of a favour in disguise.
The last thing Jason's senses picked up was the worried sound of his boss screaming his na, saying, "Jason! Bleeding... Call... Ambul..."
Damn it... Please don't call the ambulance, boss lady. That's just more bills...
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