"Yeah, I had to lie about my age the first time and tell my boss I was fourteen." Russel laughed at the memory. "I've been working pretty much all my life, and I never really had any skills so waiting was my go-to job. So long as you're quick on your feet, hard-working, and able to talk to people, you're good to go."
"That's true. What made you want to work so much?"
"Uh, it was mostly necessity. After my Mom died, Dad lost his job and spiralled into drink and other things less legal. Someone had to put food on the table, and what little I earned was always stolen by him." Russel's face twisted, his lips peeling back in a silent snarl. "Anyway, I wanted to break away from it all, so I worked as hard as I could to pay someone to train me, and worked my way up until I was good enough to apply to Beacon." The tale recounted, his smile became more honest. "And now I'm away from him and living my own life. Dust is expensive, though, so I figured I could get a job for the weekends. I've heard good things about this place. I'm not bitter about my Dad or anything though," he hurried to add, laughing loudly. "Shit happens, but you get over it. I'm doing this for me now, and I'll spend what I earn on stuff Iwant."
"That's understandable." His motives, that was. Not his father. Stories like that were all too common sadly, and he idly wondered if Russel's mother had been a huntress. It would explain both his desire to be one, and the reason she'd died. "How are you with customers?" he asked. "Things can get rather hectic here and sometimes it's just me handling everything. With my injury-" He held up his hand, "-it would mostly be you." "I'm good with anyone. I know some customers can be rude or impatient, but it's my job to wear a smile and welcome them no matter what. I've put up with angry men, loud children and crying pensioners, and always with a smile or a shoulder where needed." He smiled lopsidedly, and there was no doubting his easy confidence. "It's a job at the end of the day. Even if I've had a bad day myself, I know you've got to leave your issues at the door. When you put on that uniform, you're someone else for however long you're working."
He's good, Jaune thought, suddenly worried as he glanced over to where Velvet was sat. If he were being honest with himself, Russel was very good – far better than Velvet would be. He was experienced, willing, and if the references were to be believed, an absolute godsend when it came to commitment. "Would you mind if I have these references a call?" Jaune asked.
Russel nodded. "Go for it. Tell them it's about me and I'll bet they'll talk. This one won't be open though," he added, pointing to a single one. Jaune realised why immediately, but Russel explained anyway. "It's a fancy restaurant back home, so it only opens after seven. You could call them later though and I'm sure they'd be willing to talk."
And again, there didn't seem to be any deceit there. He couldn't even detect a hint of nervousness, and why would there be if he was so used to the job? Russel probably felt he could visit ten other places and get interviews on his experience alone – and he'd be right. That he'd also worked in a restaurant showed he must have been good, because places like that really tended to only hire the best. Appearance mattered in a fancy place like that.
"Do you mind if I leave you for a second to think?"
He nodded, and after a quick word to the same for Velvet, Jaune returned to his apartment to think.
/-/
"So, he's hard-working?" Jaune asked, scroll held before him.
"Sure is," the portly man on the other side returned. In the background, Jaune could see the familiar stainless steel of a kitchen. "Shame to see him go, but his dad's a real known issue around here, so none of us was surprised. Don't let his looks fool ya," the man pressed. "Russ looks rough, and he hangs around with bad people, but he knows when to put it aside for the job. I gave him shit for his hair, but ah, he wanted to look nothing like his old man and I couldn't fault him that."
"Yeah, I can understand. Thanks for your time, Mr Mars."
"No problem. From one hard-working guy to another, give the kid a chance. You'll not regret it."
"I'll keep it in mind. Thank you."
The scroll call ended with a click, and Jaune put it down on the table with a quick sigh. That was the third call, and all had been much the same, two men and a woman happy to sing the praises of Russel Thrush, who all agreed was not the sort of person they'd initially wanted for the job, but who had risen to the top and never once complained.
He sounded perfect. Jaune didn't even think it necessary to wait to call the restaurant, since that wouldn't open for at least three or four hours.
Russel was the perfect employee.
Sadly, that meant Velvet was not.
"That's not even something I can argue about," he said, slumping back. He liked the girl, he really did. She looked adorable, and he knew a lot of people would like that in the same way they'd liked seeing Team RWBY in their own outfits. She was also gentle and soft-spoken which would doubtless work well with children and older customers, but those had started to diminish from the diner, replaced with rough and tumble huntsmen and huntresses.
Would those people even bat an eye at Russel's wild hair and rough look? He doubted it, and if the guy was put into a smart uniform, he'd probably look fine regardless. If he was as forthright and polite as he was in the interview, and there was no reason to think he wouldn't be, then there shouldn't be any problems. The guy could be whatever he wanted outside of work, and if that was some kind of punk rocker, so be it. Like he'd said; when you put on the uniform, you're a different person.
But Velvet… oh, Velvet…
"What do I do?" he whined, hands on his head. "Why couldn't she have been some prissy and rude girl scoffing at me for being a mere businessman or something? Why does she have to be…" he swallowed, "nice…?"
He glanced to his scroll, wondering if he should call Weiss. In the end, he decided against it. Apart from the fact she'd already done enough to help him, he could already imagine what it was she would say. "You need to make the decision that is best for you and your establishment, not the applicant!"
That was easy for her to say, and he'd have agreed with it at any other time. It was an obvious thing. It was just that he'd never really considered that it would be an actual person on the other end of the interview table, and what it would be like telling them they weren't good enough. The same words he'd been forced to accept when his application to Beacon had returned – albeit Ozpin had used kinder language to mask the blow. It still hurt just as much, though.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ready to lose yourself in an epic tale? Download the full PDF now and start reading from page one!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
https://fictiontopia.tiendup.com/