2007-04-22 - 1:47 p.m.
The character here was introduced in two previous entries.
Turner came home early from work one day. Sometimes he took the MUNI bus to and from work, but (especially in nice weather) his apartment in the South of Market district was within walking distance of downtown, where his temp jobs usually were. It was spring now and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He walked down Market Street most of the way. It was pretty pleasant in mid-afternoon, even with the belligerent panhandlers and sketchy vagrants at the corner of Sixth.
Today his temp gig had been exceptionally tedious and he was glad it had finished early, even if that meant he’d get fewer hours of pay. The back office of a financial firm had contracted a dozen temps to help collate paper records according to some system of organization he was never able to figure out the grand scheme of. He just sorted whatever pile of stuff he was told to however he was told to do it, usually numerically by a number printed on the top corner of a file folder. But not always.
He had spent hours this morning going through pieces of paper that were not in folders and putting them in alphabetical order by the last name that appeared in the top left. These seemed to be records of clients’ stock transactions: “sell 500 BMY”, “buy 200 GM”, etc. Turner thought it was funny that he, not even an employee of the company, was sorting through people’s innermost financial data. Weren’t there computers to keep track of all this? Perhaps working in a bank in the pre-digital era was like this.
Turner could see himself in natty Jazz Age attire. Did Asians work in banks back then? Whatever. He wanted center-parted, slicked-back hair and a tapered suit. The late-1920s were certainly a peak of American style and design. He had picked out his couch from a thrift store because it looked sort of Art Deco to him. The thought that all this was actually happening seventy years before kept him going a while. Around 2, they decided whatever sorting goal they had been trying to reach had been met and sent the temps home.
Good riddance. That had only been a few days work, but it was unquestionably the worst temp job he’d ever had. He was pretty sure his father hadn’t shelled out all that money for college so he could alphabetize things. He had to tell his temp agency he didn’t want any more stupid assignments. How to phrase that? Maybe no more short-term stints. If a company only wanted workers for a few days, it probably wanted them to do something mindless that its regular employees would find demeaning.
As he turned down his block, he saw his neighbor across the street sitting on his front steps talking agitatedly into his cordless phone. Ira was a short, thirty-ish man with a shaved head and goatee dyed blond. Turner found him vaguely irritating, but always remained polite. He claimed to be a graphic designer, but Turner suspected this just meant he knew how to center things on his computer. He also gave the impression he was from New York and had gone to Brown, but his roommate had once drunkenly told Turner he was actually from Philadelphia and had gone to Temple.
“Turner!” he shouted from down the block, putting away the phone.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Do you want tickets to a film screening tonight? I can’t use them. But you have to take someone else cause there’s two tickets and I don’t want them to go to waste. It’s at 7. I know it’s short notice, but try to rustle up a date.”
“Uh….”
Turner tried to think who he could take. Lia was working until closing at 9 tonight. He supposed he could see if Cat wanted to go, but they had dated once and that would look bad with Lia. All his other friends were still at their jobs and wouldn’t get home until after 5. That would be kind of late to call and see if they wanted to go to a 7 o’clock movie. They might have other plans.
Wait, maybe he should call that guy Josh. He had just moved here and didn’t have a job yet. Turner suspected he also didn’t have many friends yet. He was a friend of Liz from her hometown in Missouri. Turner had only met him once, at a party at her house. They’d talked about his wanting to study ballet here and exchanged numbers. Yeah, he’d call Josh. It would be a good chance to get to know him and maybe a good chance for Josh to socialize.
Josh seemed happy when Turner called and said he’d drive over. Turner was a bit wary of cars in this town, as parking could be problematic. But then he noticed the film screening was at the Arts Center next to the Opera House in the Civic Center area. He didn’t think municipal workers usually stayed late and didn’t think it was opera season. Parking probably wouldn’t be a problem, so he didn’t bring it up.
“Okay, then. See you in a bit.”
© 2007 Geoff Gladstone
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