Why is it that I cannot find my brother? He is here. Somewhere. I must find him! You don't understand! --40.3 Seconds Post-Integration.
Alas, the jig in his step lasted a minute before the cruel whims of fate crashed upon his fragile shore.
"EXCUSE ME!" an angry, shrill voice declared for all to heed. "ARE YOU STUPID OR JUST UGLY?! I NEED HELP!"
Hearing his job call him, Clark stifled a sigh.
"How can I help you, sir?" he said with genuine-sounding warmth.
The not-so-gentle gentleman then launched into a protracted complaint about there not being enough cashiers. "With so many shoppers and people waiting in line, I don't understand why you lugheads think you can waste everyone's time with your cheap-ass antics! I, for one, sure as--"
The man continued his tirade. Clark listened patiently. As he listened, he nodded his head up and down while making conciliatory noises. He did so while slyly alerting a local managerial figure to the issue via the System.
"TO CONCLUDE, THEN, I WOULD--"
"Sir? I have heard you have a complaint for us? My name is..."
Finally arriving, the managerial figure took the issue from there. The manager smiled and waved him off. All was well until the customer demanded the heavens: "I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD LEAVE!" He shouted at Clark.
"Ma'am," the manager said, "Clark here has other responsibilities--"
"YOU DARE CALL ME A WOMAN! YOU--"
It was clear to Clark the manager had merely misspoke when he called the customer by a womanly honorific. The customer, of course, did not care and screamed up a storm for ten straight minutes despite both his own best and the manager's best to calm the situation. In the end, security had to be called so the customer was removed from Augustford property.
The manager turned to him with pained relief in their eyes. "I am sorry you had to be put through that, Clark. You maintained yourself well. I will transfer a couple of Premium Opportunities to your System account to make up for it." Taking a step closer to him, the manager then spoke in a whisper. "Take it from me -- some customers just want to cause trouble. Some people can't be helped and only want to yap. When something like this happens in the future, just smile and take it in stride, alright?"
Called off to other business, the manager, whose name Clark hadn't even learned, left in a hurry.
Premium Opportunities? Clark had no clue such a thing existed. He figured they had come in just the one variety, standard. Excited to try his hand at opening them, the premise reminded Clark he had a good number of the normal Opportunities loot crates to open. He would do so tonight, once his shift let out.
[Accomplishment Unlocked! 'People Pleaser:' You took an irate customer's nonsense in stride. Congrats on being a doormat!]
Clark rolled his eyes at the typically sarcastic message and resumed his work. The twenty-fourth floor, however, had little in the way of work to do, so he cruised on by each departmental station, continuing to build his Core Metrics.
The next few floors were the same as the last -- dry, un-busy. Customers who weren't shet asked for his help as he climbed and he was happy to assist. It was mostly finding items that they needed help with. When he arrived on floor twenty-seven, his Core Metrics rose to their highest yet -- [1.50]!
[Accomplishment Unlocked! 'Good Graces:' Oh, you discovered how to do your job well enough to attain a high Metric rating. Bully for you! Get to the second level, then we'll talk!]
The Accomplishment's description intrigued him. 'Second level'? How many layers were there to Core Metrics? He could try asking SIMP, but something told him they wouldn't know anything more than he, since, they had said Augustford's internal systems weren't something they were privy to any more than he.
Clark moved on with his day. About half-way through his designated store block, Theo sent him a voice message, which he took on break.
The message read: "Hey, Clark. I've just reached the thirtieth floor. I am going to leave off for the day here. Give me a shout when you're up here or think you will be, and we can schedule our shifts together. PEACE!"
"SIMP? What does he mean by 'schedule together'?" Clark asked. "Is it possible to alter when one works the mandatory hours?"
"For the typical worker, no, it is not possible to alter one's hours. One receives the schedule as it was made by the department supervisor and those are the hours one works. It is a different story for Lifers, however, who have more leeway in their schedule than non-Lifers. You are not guaranteed the schedule you request, but there is a significant probability you will receive your requested schedule. So, yes, with limitations, you are able to negotiate your schedule regarding your mandatory hours."
"So, it would be possible, then, for Theo and I to share shifts?"
"Correct."
The idea thrilled him. Working alongside someone was not only ideal for productivity reasons but for personal. A friend, someone to talk to while he put in the hours' day-after-day. And, yeah, someone to bail him out of trouble if his Metrics dipped a bit too much. Forget about 'friendship,' Clark liked the notion simply for survival.
"My goal, then, is floor thirty. Then we can schedule our shifts together. The sooner the better."
"A good idea, methinks, lad... tomorrow, you will--"
"No. Not tomorrow. I have tomorrow off. I am going to work overtime. I need the money anyway."
Silent for a moment, SIMP let him have his moment of peace before trying to foil his fun. "Several floors is a lot of work, Clark. Don't you think it would be better to finish your shift and begin the next day strong?"
"Sure. But I don't have the time. I don't want this chance to slip through my fingers. I am going to meet Theo on floor thirty, then we will schedule our shifts together, and then I will not have to worry about Core Metrics and getting lost and doing everything myself. I can have some peace! Is that so much to ask for?"
SIMP didn't bother responding to him. Which he thought was fine as Clark knew he was being unreasonable. Even so, he didn't want to hear otherwise. After the trial he endured inside the lost sector, he was just about done with this whole solo-stuff. He needed pals and now.
Clark returned to his work with renewed gusto. Of course, he knew the energy would sag once the thrill of having a work buddy wore off. Still, he didn't want to waste the energy reverses he did have. So, despite the twenty-seventh floor being high in-demand, he put his all into it, so he would be that much closer to his goal.
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His shift ended about half-way through the twenty-eighth floor.
Incidentally, this was also when his energy levels flagged.
'I can't stop. I need to press forward. I just need to work. Work and don't think too much about it...'
His drive took him through the rest of floor twenty-eight. When he reached the twenty-ninth floor, however, his body forced himself to take a break. He spent the break downing a couple of cups of free, but extremely bitter coffee, in the breakroom. He still couldn't say he had the taste for coffee, but it kept him going, and that was the important part. As an Associate, he was entitled to a break every couple of hours or so. Normally, he took breaks much slower pace, perhaps a break every three or four hours. This time around, though, he took advantage of his breaks for a chance to grab a cup of coffee.
Back on the salesfloor, his trek remained harsh. Right away, customers flagged him down, asking for assistance. Then, with business picking up, he found his progress further slowed with his employee number called for service upon checking in at a departmental station. Hour crawled by and without even half of the floor crawled. He was on another break, thinking about giving up, when SIMP did something unexpected for him: "You're making great progress, Clark. I think you should be pacing yourself more, sure, but I do admire your worth ethic and drive. Not everyone would want to take on the challenges you have tackled and still want to clock-in to work every day. You should feel proud of that, if nothing else."
"Whoa, you don't normally praise me. What's up?" Clark said, too tired to care about how he normally wouldn't ask such things.
"I have been scanning the social media content of employees. Many posts praise co-workers for their hard work while offering advice. It made me realize that in my own dealings, I have not been so free with the praise, though I have freely given you criticisms. I must remember to do both."
"Sure. What's social media like? I don't have any device that connecting me, so none of that is my arena," Clark giggled.
"It is people behaving as people do -- showboating, accusing, and praising. There is a lot of theatrics tossed into the mix for good measure. Many people compete with others on the platform to accrue the most views, followers, and ratings. It is possible to use the platform to either earn enough money to buy one's way out of a Lifer contract or to amass so much influence as to render the contract irrelevant. For those people who are dissatisfied with their decision to align with Augustford for life, it appears social media allows an outlet for their frustrations," SIMP explained. "Because of this, I would not recommend paying too much attention to the process."
"Weird. Neat, but weird... so you've only recently gained access to the social media network, you said. What did you do before you met me?" he asked, getting up from his break and readying himself to return to the fray.
"I spent most of my time floating through the vast dungeon interior. I helped where I was needed and repaired parts of the dungeon damaged by the plague. If I ventured from the interior, it was only for those moments of absolute necessity. I believe I told you already about how the company and I, despite ostentatiously being ranked the same by the dungeon's creators, are not on equal footing. They do everything they can to harm and impede me and my efforts at caretaking the parts of the tower which fall under their technical domain. Because of that, I spent more time than I perhaps should have spent in the dungeon's interior. Until I sensed you, that is. Now... I am making up for that time I lost."
Not having much to say about the consciousness's journey, Clark reinforced his commitment to SIMP's cause as their 'champion.' Then, he clocked in.
"Last checkpoint, then I'm home free!" Clark couldn't believe how long it took him to clear the twenty-ninth floor. He had begun his overtime on this floor well over seven hours ago. Only now was he set to climb the stairs to the thirtieth floor; why it took him so long came down to bad luck and a busy time. Customers kept flooding the store block and the store block kept suffering callouts from the normally employed. Which meant he had to pick up the slack.
His high productivity from earlier was a thing of the past. Gradually, his Core Metrics slipped. He was barely holding on At Base as it stood. [1.04]. When he approached the final departmental checkpoint, he willed, prayed, and hoped with everything he had that the checkpoint would allow him to pass. He was so tired, he needed to be done with this double-shift. He had to be done with it...
A toggle of his System Link later and his worst fears were confirmed.
[Please Report to Toys and Recreation]
"Sweet mother of shet on a hip!" he cursed then bite his tongue. 'I hope to one heard me swear! That would surely be a ding against me.'
Although no one reported him, it didn't change the fact he had to endure whatever kind of labor he was expected to perform in the Toys and Recreation department.
He reported to a supervisor and awaited his pain.
The supervisor was a petite woman with a bounty of hair curled and re-curled into an elaborate series of buns and pigtails. If he wasn't frustrated with being there to begin with, he would have been amazed by the amount of time such a fashion surely took her every morning.
"Clark, is it? Yeah, see those boxes labeled 'DISPLAY'? Unpack them and set up the displays within at the areas marked on this map. Impossible to miss the big, red tape on the floor. Once you're done with that, I will probably have more to do for you," the supervisor said.
"Sure thing, ma'am." Was all he said. He found a box cutter and got to work.
Inside each box was a building block miniature. A building block being a toy set where children could form structures along designated builds using small, colorful bricks. Each set was displayed within a transparent glass case. Unpacking the sets proved more time-consuming than he thought it would be as the boxes had specific angles he had to cut. Unpacked, he then had to use a dolly to carefully transport the sets to the marked location. Then, he had to set up the display table, which proved to be hard to do with a hundred children running to and fro in the colorful, banner-draped aisles of the toy department.
"And she said there will be more to do after this," Clark remembered her words. Why? All he wanted to do was make sure Theo and he had a moment to chit-chat. To ensure they could regularly work together. Why did fate, destiny, the collective unconscious of every customer ever, conspire against that?
He worked mechanically. He didn't think about the work. He only thought about getting the work done. His wrists were sore by the end of it, as were his arms, and his legs, but he managed. When he reported back to his supervisor -- who had since been replaced with another supervisor he didn't recognize -- Clark felt the tell-tale sign he had been working too much, the heavy bags under his eyes.
"Clark, Clark... that's weird. I can't seem to find you. Wait, you're a Lifer. That makes sense. Uh, um, well," the supervisor spoke, clearly unsure of herself. Perhaps it was her first day as supervisor, which would account for her uncertainty. He didn't care. As far as he was concerned, every minute she spent sputtering was one less minute he had to work. Which meant it was one more minute another worker could come in to fill his slot in the department. Or one more minute the customer mass had to chill-out. "Actually, we will be fine for now. Thank you for your work, Mister Clark!"
"You are very welcome," he said, demurely, then went on his way.
Clark returned to the departmental checkpoint. When it gave him the greenlight to advance, he could only look at the screen with a dead glare. He had done it. He had conquered the twenty-ninth floor.
Well, not 'conquered,' per se. He still had the stairwell to do. The hardest part was over was his point. So, when he climbed the stairs, despite the heaviness in his legs, despite how his arms, and head were numb, he almost felt a gliding gust of joy under his feet for accomplishing the difficult task he had set out to do so many hours ago.
[Accomplishment Unlocked! 'Dedicated:' Complete a Double-Shift: two shifts in a row? That's impressive! Keep up the good work, pleb, and maybe next year, I can buy another fancy car.]
He paused halfway up the stairwell. "SIMP. Am I getting close to that 'mana over surge' thing you talked about? How many more accomplishments before I can start using magic?"
"You are making great progress with your Accomplishment acquisition, Clark. There is still many more Accomplishments to go before you can begin properly using mana outside of item-specific usage, however. When you team up with Theo, I will have a new set of Accomplishments for you to grind. Speaking of item usage, tomorrow, you need to purchase several magically infused commodities. Grinding Accomplishments will help you in forming that basic well-spring of mana you need for free-flowing magical incantations. Yet, that wellspring will be useless if you lack hands-on experience with magical commodities," SIMP told him.
"Of course, more spending... lovely." Clark did not like the idea of spending money. Especially for those overpriced, magical commodities. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice, alas. "But will do, SIMP. Will do..."
At long last, Clark crossed the line dividing the top of the stairwell and the thirtieth floor's connecting zone. At long last, he could breathe some relief!
Not wanting to waste any time, he made a beeline for the store block the line-path directed him toward. There, he found the first departmental checkpoint and clocked out.
Next, he found a semi-deserted part of a breakroom and sent a voice message to Theo. "Hey, bud. I finally reached floor thirty. I'm pretty tuckered at the moment, so I am returning to my dorm. Shoot me back a reply and let me know when you would like to meet. SIMP confirmed it's possible for us to renegotiate our schedules, so maybe we could do that? Let me know. See you later."
To SIMP, he said, "Take me home. I am done with the store and with working! I would swear at my own mother for a shower! Wee-oh, I am gross!"
How Do You Handle Irate Customers?
