[Steven Hyde POV]
Bob decided to try out my method in his store because he thinks he saw it in a store in Chicago.
I sold 3 'Better' toasters that day while Charlie sold some extension cord and bulbs.
"Why aren't more people coming to the store?" I asked Bob curiously. "What kind of marketing did you use?"
"The Radio station pluggin." He replied gleefully. It cost him 300 dollars per month to do his advertising on radio.
As I dug deeper, everything about Bob's "marketing strategy" started to make my eyes twitch.
Radio was huge in Point Place. Every teen in town blasted it in their car.
But teens weren't the ones buying blenders and vacuum cleaners. Bob was spending three hundred bucks a month talking to the wrong crowd, at the wrong hours, with zero idea who was actually listening.
There's no target demographic, no frequency tracking, no listener stats, not because Bob didn't care, but because nobody in this town even thought to measure that stuff.
It was marketing by finger-crossing. The more he explained it, the clearer it got.
Bargain Bob wasn't failing because the store was bad. It was failing because Bob had no clue who he was actually selling to.
Unaware of my internal criticism, Bob patted my shoulder and said, "Three people on a lazy sunday… that's already a great sales record!"
I sighed inwardly, but kept a smile on the surface.
Bob told me that he had already done a major Christmas Sale– just two weeks before, so usually there would be a month of slow sales before it picked up again.
"This is troublesome." I muttered in annoyance.
I have only one week to do this job and to gain some money. The slow sales weather was not within my expectations.
"Should I create a sales campaign too? What's the hook– OOOhhhhh…"
I realized I have something in my system inventory. The energy saving, white glow bulb.
"This… could work."
…
Eric picked me up at 10 in the night, with Donna, Fez, Kelso and Jackie tagging along in the Vista Cruiser.
Donna leaned on his shoulder as he drove. Fez sat in front, while Kelso and Jackie were making out at the back.
As I got into the car, I jumped in the middle of Kelso and Jackie, separating them.
"Hyde! What are you doing?!" Kelso asked with annoyance.
"I just had a hard day of work. I don't want to see other people being happy now. Fez, separate Donna and Eric too."
"Okay!" Fez said casually.
"NO!" Eric stopped him. Donna turned to me and said, "We aren't doing anything."
"Hyde, I know you're jealous of Micheal, but we have only a little time together before I need to go home." Jackie said.
I interjected before she could add to it, "So Eric. Let's send Jackie home."
"On it!" Eric replied excitedly.
Jackie was offended, but no one minded her. As we drove, Eric said, "Oh Hyde. There's some job seekers who came by to get their resumes done by you. I tried to do it, but… Yeah, I can't." He laughed coyly.
"You can't? You didn't ruin my business, did you?" I asked seriously.
Eric was taken aback and he said, "N-No! Definitely not."
"Did you take their details?... If you want Forman, you can be my assistant. I'll give you 20% per every resume I make." I suggested.
"Really?" Eric's eyes widened. "I can do that."
"Good for you. Now that you have a job, maybe you can take me out on a date that's not just driving around." Donna teased him. Eric chortled embarrassedly.
"Forman, let's go get something to eat." I said as I rubbed my hungry stomach. I only had a sandwich at lunch, and I haven't eaten dinner yet.
Kelso exclaimed in excitement and pumped his fist, "Alright! Hyde's buying!"
"This is like, the first time ever Hyde's buying us anything." Donna teased.
I furrowed my eyebrows. Jackie added, "Cause he's poor."
"Eric, let's send Kelso, Fez, Donna and Jackie home first before we go." I said firmly.
"What!? NO! I didn't say anything!" Fez exclaimed sadly while everyone laughed.
"Alright. Fez can stay." I said, which brightened him up. "Everyone else… let's get them home."
"What– Hyde, that's unfair." Kelso said sadly. Jackie interjected, "Micheal. We can eat at my house."
"It's not the same as Hyde's buying us food." Kelso argued.
Eric spoke, "Oh by the way Hyde. My mom has set aside some food for you at home."
"Hmm.. I guess I'll eat Mrs Forman's food. After I get my first paycheck, I will buy some food for all of you." I said with a smile.
"Alright!" Kelso celebrated. Donna and Eric laughed.
Fez said, "You're awesome Hyde. I want to have money and a job too."
"Really Hyde? Where are you bringing us?" Jackie was elated. "Somewhere expensive–"
"Jackie, you're not going." I stopped her. Jackie gasped as she was offended again.
"Why not?!" She asked angrily.
"Cause this is a friend's only thing. And well… I don't like you." I muttered flatly.
"AH!" She gasped, offended yet again.
Eric laughed with satisfaction, mumbling to himself, "He just said it to her face."
Donna laughed together with him while Jackie fumed at their reactions.
"Stop laughing!" Jackie hits Donna and Eric on their arms.
…
I entered the basement room when I came home from work. Eric insisted that I stopped there first.
He turned on the orange glow light and said, "Ta-da!"
Inside the basement, my cot, dresser, ottoman, and all my stuff were already set up like someone had moved in for me.
I turned to Eric, surprised. He chuckled. "I saw you cleaned up the room, so I put your stuff in while you were at work."
Donna giggled and pointed at my expression. "See, Eric? I told you he'd hate it."
"What? Why?" Eric's smile vanished instantly. "You said you wanted to move down there."
"You idiot. There are no doors yet." Donna doubled over laughing.
I grimaced. "You knew this and didn't say anything?"
"I told him not to do it," Donna said, still giggling. "If you don't like it, you can still sleep in Eric's room. Just keep your stuff down here."
"That's not the point—" I rubbed my forehead, too exhausted to put up a fight. "Alright. I'm just tired and prickly right now. Thanks, Forman."
Both Eric and Donna froze.
"What did you just say?" Donna asked.
Eric whispered, "Donna… I think Hyde's body was taken over by a creature from another world—"
"Shut up, Forman," I snapped.
Eric went quiet, then suddenly beamed. "HYDE! We didn't lose you!"
I couldn't even have a normal conversation before they decided something supernatural was going on. Apparently being polite was enough to trigger an exorcism around here. Sometimes, all I could do was grunt and act like a jerk to reassure them.
I really need a girlfriend to justify my character development, I thought.
"Hyde, what are you going to do about your door?" Eric asked.
"I'll hit the salvage yard tomorrow. I need to go to the bank with your dad first," I said.
Yesterday I made thirty-one bucks from the bake sale and typing job. Add the fifteen from today and the ten Eric owed me from our bet, and I'd pulled in fifty-six dollars in just two days.
For a teenager in the '70s, that was a lot. Around two hundred eighty bucks in 2025 money.
I'd made twenty more today, but Bob wouldn't pay me until the end of the week.
At breakfast, Eric tried to retell the story like it was the funniest thing on earth. "And he said, 'I'm just too tired right now so I'm quite prickly—'" He burst into laughter alone.
Kitty and Red just stared at him.
"I don't get what's funny," Kitty said. "He realized he was being snippy and apologized. He even thanked you. Why tease him for that?"
Red had a different take. "Son," he said, putting his fork down, "one day of sales work and you're loose with your feelings? The reason I let you stay here, is because you keep everything bottled up… like me."
"Red!" Kitty scolded. "That's not a good lesson. It's healthy that he lets things out!"
"Kitty! I've been bottling things up since Eric was born. Believe me, it's better than letting it out. Otherwise there'd be feet in asses all the time."
I laughed, and Eric looked horrified. It was hard to believe one small apology caused such an ideological meltdown in this house. Then again, not that hard.
Red was from the Silent Generation. They'd grown up with war, rationing, and repression. A lot of them learned the hard way that emotions were liabilities. And it left them a little screwed up.
Eric, meanwhile, was a pure Baby Boomer kid. He'd been raised in comfort, fed hope and optimism with his Saturday morning cartoons. Feelings weren't threats to him– they were entertainment.
If he had one, he'd announce it like a public service message. Red saw that and called it weakness. Eric saw Red's silence and called it insanity. They lived in the same house but spoke different emotional languages.
Me? I was neither of them. In 2025, I was thirty, a weird millennial/Gen-Z mix raised on the internet, self-help threads, and entire cultures built around communication.
I knew how to apologize without melting down and how to express irritation without throwing a punch. To Red, that probably looked suspicious, and weak. To Eric, it was borderline mystical.
In my time, saying "I'm tired and prickly" wasn't some confession of weakness. It was just emotional housekeeping. Something you said so people didn't assume you hated them.
I'd been trained by life, memes, and a thousand half-psychology posts to communicate before a situation exploded. It was normal.
To Red, though, that kind of honesty was practically subversion.
A man from Red's generation didn't explain how he felt. He clenched his jaw, kept working, and waited forty years for a heart attack to do the talking.
Feelings were classified information– you didn't leak them unless you had a death wish.
The original Hyde was the same. I think that's why he lost his girlfriend. Because they couldn't communicate clearly about what they wanted.
'Who's his girlfriend again? That stripper from Vegas?'
I kept trying to recall the plot. I think I would date Jackie, but wasn't Jackie with Kelso in That 90s Show? They were married there and have a kid.
'My mind is all jumbled up now.' I thought with a sigh.
Red and I went to the bank after breakfast in his Toyota.
The place smelled faintly of cigarettes and polished wood, though nobody was openly smoking anymore.
Sunlight filtered through tall, narrow windows, catching dust motes that drifted lazily above the polished linoleum floor.
Behind the long counter, tellers sat on swiveling chairs, paper-strewn desks stacked with deposit slips, passbooks, and ink-stained stamps.
"It feels so retro." I muttered.
Red looked at me with disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?" He asked.
"Nothing. I'm just wondering why no one was smoking inside anymore."
Red snapped, "You don't even think about getting curious questions about smoking. Or my foot will be getting in your ass!"
We asked the front counter about opening an account, and were directed to the new account desk. As I have to fill some forms, all of the process would be handled there.
"You'll need a minimum deposit of twenty-five dollars," the teller said, cheerfully indifferent.
"Alright." I nodded slightly, taking out the cash from my pocket.
"Randy, I will be taking over for this one." A soft, feminine voice suddenly interjected. The female teller laid a hand on the guy's shoulder.
Randy shuddered and stood up immediately. "Alright. I'm leaving it to you."
Red raised an eyebrow.
I sighed as I saw the woman sliding into the swivel chair across from me.
"Hello Victoria." I greeted.
"Hello, Steven," she replied with a soft smile—but her eyes weren't smiling.
She wore the classic mid-'70s bank uniform.
a tailored blouse with a scarf tied neatly around her neck, a knee-length skirt pressed to perfection, and modest heels.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight, precise bun, small gold earrings catching the sunlight. The blouse clung just enough to hint at her Midwest-voluptuous figure.
She gave me a look that was equal parts professional and sharp—the kind of look that could melt a lesser man's confidence. The more I studied her face, the more she resembled someone I knew from the future.
She looks like Amanda Seyfried… How is this possible? I thought with confusion.
"You're opening a checking account?" she asked casually, flipping open a ledger. "Did you bring your ID?"
"Yeah—"
"Your birth certificate?" she added.
Red grimaced. "You don't need to bring your birth certificate to open a checking account."
"We do now," Victoria said firmly.
Red's eyebrow twitched. "Since when?"
"Since last month." She didn't blink. Then she turned to me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We've had… incidents. Imposters. Teens trying to open accounts under fake guardianships. Bank policy requires proof of custody or residence for minors."
"Fake guardianship?" Red looked pissed. "I even went to court to get guardianship papers for him."
"Victoria," I said slowly, giving her a disarming smile, "I live with Red. My mom left. This is my address now."
She tapped her pen. "Do you have a letter from your mother granting temporary guardianship?"
Red scoffed. "His mother left and never came back. She disappeared completely. Do you think he'd have that? Why are you doing this?"
"I'm sorry," she replied. "I'm just upholding our policy. Steven has a… reputation. So I'm not sure he'll be able to commit to being our customer."
Red frowned. "What now?"
She cleared her throat, slipping back into professional mode. "A record of… disappearing. For weeks. Without informing anyone." Her eyes flicked toward me. "And blowing people off."
Red blinked, then turned to me. "What did you do?"
"We dated for about a month last year," I said. "And I did the idiotic thing of never calling her again."
She sniped, "After you got me to sleep with you and give you my virginity."
Red was so taken aback he coughed loudly.
"What do you have to say about that?" she demanded.
I noticed the ring on her finger and answered softly, "I have nothing to say. I was stupid. Stupid enough to let a girl like you go."
She paused, clearly not expecting that. Red sighed in disappointment and stood. "I'm going outside. Call me if you need my signature or something."
He didn't want to sit through me facing my ex-girlfriend. When he left, I smiled at her and said, "Congratulations on getting married."
"No thanks to you," she said bitterly. "So if you want to open your bank account, you'll have to try hard for a month, and when you finally get what you want, I'll rip it away—just like you did to me."
"Or," I said abruptly, "I can just go to First Midwestern."
Her eyes widened; she wasn't expecting that.
I leaned forward slightly. She leaned back, blinking rapidly.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"What—" Her eyes widened further. "You're sorry?"
"I am. I really am," I said sincerely. "I shouldn't have done that. But to be fair, I really did want to date you… circumstances just didn't allow it."
She scoffed. "What circumstances? Did you find another girl?"
"No. I didn't date anyone after you."
That rattled her. "What—what do you mean? What circumstances?"
"It's hard to say," I said, leaning back, deliberately making it difficult.
She leaned forward and whispered angrily, "My husband was so mad I wasn't a virgin that after our wedding night he never touched me again. So I deserve an explanation. You owe me an explanation!"
I was slightly surprised. "He didn't touch you? He must've been blind. If I had you, I would've shown you my love every single night—"
"Stop." She cupped my hand, cheeks flushing. Staring into my eyes, she said seriously, "Tell me."
I let out a long sigh.
To be honest, she played a part too. She told me she wanted to lose her virginity before she graduated—six months ago. I just… helped her. She got clingy afterward, and I never called again.
I didn't think much of it, but for girls in this era—small town, conservative, purity culture still strong—it was a huge deal.
She wanted a reason. I could give her one. A true one, even—since it happened the night I got home after sleeping with her.
"That day, when I got home, I saw my mother with a bruise on her neck," I said seriously.
Victoria's eyes widened. "What—what are you saying?"
I continued, "I don't like talking about it, but I do owe you… so here's why I never called again. My mom's boyfriend beat her, and when I got home, she told me we're the kind of people who never escape this life."
Her eyes grew glossy. I added, staring into them while hiding the pain behind my smile, "I was afraid I'd drag you into that life if I forced you to be with me."
"Force—You… you stayed away because you didn't want to hurt me?" she asked softly.
I nodded, not looking at her. "You're a warm, kind, smart, beautiful girl. And I…"
I reached out and touched her left cheek. She leaned into my hand, eyes fluttering.
"I couldn't bring you into my life. I didn't want to hurt you. And I realize now… I hurt you anyway by pushing you away."
"Oh, Steven." She grabbed my hand affectionately. "I'm sorry. I didn't know about that… about your family."
I shrugged with a dry chuckle. "My mom left me. I became like an orphan. And now I'm finally getting my life together. See that man?" I pointed at Red.
She nodded.
"I'm learning how to take care of a family from him. He's the first positive figure I've ever had. Maybe if I keep learning… one day, I won't be afraid to let a girl into my life."
Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Steven. I misunderstood you all these years."
Well, she didn't really. I was just being glib—and the impact of having a way with words was multiplied here.
People in the 1970s weren't used to hearing feelings spoken out loud, let alone neatly packaged. Emotional honesty wasn't a skill yet; it was something most men learned by accident or never learned at all.
Red's generation believed silence was strength.
Eric's generation believed awkward jokes were communication.
But me? I came from a future where people dissected emotions on forums, diagnosed themselves in long comment threads, and apologized with full paragraphs instead of a grunt.
So when I talked, when I actually laid emotions out plainly, it hit people here harder.
And in 1977 Wisconsin, that made me dangerous. Like, sleeping-with-other-people's-wives-after-a-first-meeting kind of dangerous.
Victoria helped me to open my account quickly. "So, what are you doing now?" She asked, not even caring to call Red back in to sign the papers.
"I'm suspended from school, now I'm working as a salesman at Bargain Bob." I replied simply.
"Oh, I might… need… a new fridge. Maybe I should go there… tonight?" Her eyes were hinting at me.
I smiled and said, "Sure. I'll be sure to give you a good deal. Maybe, I can deliver it to your house too… Tonight."
"That will be best." She replied excitedly.