Employee of the Month

Jessica's six day hiatus from Moo & Oink felt less like a break and more like a glitch in the matrix. For the first time since she began working there, she took two consecutive days off. The store chugged along without her, but she hadn't.

School days were a blur. Her work ethic cut her senior year into half days, three classes and she was done, the final class ending as lunch started. She sat in the front of the class, leg jiggling under the desk, pencil ticking against her textbook like a metronome counting down to the end of the lecture so she could get to work. Teachers droned on as Jessica's mind raced ahead, solving problems before the lesson ended, her homework usually finished before the bell.

The closest she got to socializing with her classmates was her walk from third period to the library on the other side of school. She scanned the courtyard as the herd of students clustered into groups, faces buried in their phones.

The library was hers at lunch time. She claimed the same corner table everyday. The occasional nerd shuffling in, eyes darting, but none dared sit close. After lunching on an organic salad, she got to work finishing any leftover homework.

Soon she was done and loading her backpack with her things. Jessica shouldered through the crowd, eyes fixed ahead, her backpack a battering ram. She had lower patients than usual, her period coinciding with her break from work. She'd snapped at a freshman for sneezing in the library earlier.

In the parking lot, her '98 Corolla turned over. The clock blinked to 11:50 AM. The store was only a ten minute drive away. Any other day she'd be clocking in, covering the cashiers for lunch. Going home was a punishment. The walls of the house pressed in, she tried to distract herself with a Netflix show about vampires. By episode two, she was scrubbing the baseboards with a duster.

That's how the rest of her week went. Each day after school, another chore. By Friday she had scoured the oven of grease, rearranged the pantry as if she was at work, and cleaned the bathroom. The floors were mopped, the windows streak free, and dinner was ready every evening before her mom got home.

On Saturday, her room became the final project. She knelt on the floor, dusting her Piggy of the Month trophy shelf, cheap plastic figurines with gold paint chipped at the edges. Under the bed, next to an old shoe box, she found them, her black cotton panties, stiff with dried sweat and crusted at the crotch. She held them at arm's length, the fabric cracking like old parchment. That night at Roger's place. The memory didn't bother Jessica.

Her phone buzzed. Jerry's name flashed, followed by next week's work schedule. The grid of available shifts glowed like a lifeline. Jessica dropped the crumbled underwear in the trash bin. She missed the weight of the pricing gun, the rhythm of organized chaos, the way Jerry's "Need you on register three" cut through the noise.

She typed fast, thumbs jabbing the screen: "I'll be there to open." The Employee of the Month trophies watched from the shelf, clean and proud. The next morning Jessica was at the store before Jerry, apron crisp, ponytail pulled tight. Ready to go.

The week without Jessica had been full of double shifts and spilled milk for Jerry. His eyes were sagging, his Moo & Oink polo wrinkled like he'd slept in his office. Her confirmation text lit his phone as well as his demeanor up. He smiled, fanning the small crew together for the morning briefing.

"Alright folks," Jerry raised his voice over the huddle of employees. "You're my Sunday opening crew for today, I see the same reliable faces here so you know what to expect. Last thing, it's peak Halloween season, we need to stay on top of it. That's enough from me, let's get going!"

The crew scattered. Jessica walked up to Jerry with her hands behind her back.

"Produce?" he said, receiving a quick nod in return.

"Price check. Presentation. Let's go on it. I need to check on this delivery," he said, motioning with his clipboard. "Good to have you back."

"Good to be back." Jessica pivoted as they both walked away from each other.

Her pricing gun clicked like a semi automatic weapon. She walked around picking out the bad apples, bruised bananas, and a pumpkin already rotting at the stem. She finished as the morning rush was starting.

Jessica took the initiative with the Halloween display aisle, restocking and rearranging. Jerry rounded the corner, clipboard clutched like a lifeline, too late to help.

"You read my mind," he said, staring at the resurrected aisle.

"I usually do." Jessica didn't pause, her hands already deep in a box of mini Snickers.

The store, and Jerry, breathed easier with her back. Jessica slid back into the Moo & Oink as if she had never left.

The work week sharpened Jessica like a blade. She was in her element, aisles cleared, spills mopped, Halloween candy restocked, but Roger's hung around her neck, she was used to seeing him every day. She cornered Jerry by the dairy fridge, his arms loaded with expired yogurt.

"Hey, where's Roger? Haven't seen him around recently."

Jerry juggled the tubs in his arms. "Home. He's got the flu. I've been dropping off soups and medication." Jessica took a yogurt from his arm. "I saw him yesterday, he'll live. Should be back pestering you soon."

Jessica grabbed a falling tub of yogurt. "Are you his nurse?"

"Someone has to do it. Now that I have you, I forgot to mention you missed the quarterly performance review. Drop by my office anytime today."

He walked away, leaving Jessica holding expired yogurt.

Jessica waited until late in the day, the registers empty. She paced through five aisles looking for a problem to fix before heading towards Jerry's office. She knocked on Jerry's half open office door, watching his shadow flicker behind the frosted glass.

Inside, Jerry sat buried under invoices, his desk a graveyard of coffee cups and beef jerky wrappers. He called her in without looking up. Jessica sat in the wooden chair across Jerry's desk watching his screen lit face work.

"Almost done," he muttered. "Can't wait to dump this mouse work on you."

"Promotion?" Jessica grinned. "I'm still reading the book you gave me on supply chains."

The laptop snapped shut. Jerry rubbed his eyes, gaze drifting to the store beyond the half open blinds, the aisles silent, almost closing time. "Alright, let's start your review."

Jerry sighed as he began. " Zero tardies, your timesheets are immaculate, no customer complaints, you come in on your scheduled off days. Your work ethic is unmatched. You're the perfect employee. Jessica what else can I say about you?"

"You forgot fifteen awards in two years." She said, promptly.

"That's right," he leaned forward on his elbows, crinkling the paperwork.

She held her silence, her feline eyes a scalpel dissecting him. Jessica remembered the last review, thirty seconds of mumbled praise and a handshake, a formality not a dialogue. This was different. His shoulders hunched like a man bracing for impact. Jerry was digging around hoping to find something in Jessica.

"You know the point of these reviews, at least what I've read in these management books, is to help the employee with reflection and open an avenue for communication." Jerry lectured like a business professor.

He droned on, "You see, with an exceptional employee like yourself, my job is not so much to steer the boat but to nurture the plant."

"What are you trying to say Jerry?" She was following along but didn't want to hear any more of his business jargon. She wanted him to be real.

He readjusted his position on the chair. "Okay let me try again. You're well rounded, your customer service goes above and beyond, your details...the way you pay attention to details is frankly beautiful, so someone in your position would hone these traits, or have the soil tilled by a mentor, and-"

"Are you saying I'm overqualified or that I'm a plant?" she interrupted.

"Neither. You can and I'm certain you will own your own business one day, multiple businesses. So why do you still mop up spilled milk? Does that make sense?" Jerry looked at Jessica hoping he was getting his point across.

She tilted her head, happily surprised by the question. "I mop spilled milk because that's what wins me the Piggy of the Month award. And maybe I like mopping. Does it make that much of a difference to you?"

"Okay I think I hear you loud and clear," Jerry said, shuffling papers on his desk. "Thank you Jessica. Have a good evening and good luck on our upcoming monthly award."

Jessica didn't budge, her eyes drilled into Jerry egging him to say more, his tepidness infuriated her. She wanted to show him the directness that he lacked.

"Did you visit Roger today?"

Jerry couldn't wait for her to leave. "No actually, I had this bag all packed and ready but I couldn't find the time today."

"I can take it to him." Jessica volunteered. "We live in the same complex, might as well."

"It's getting kind of late, he might be-" he said, as Jessica stood and grabbed the bag next to his desk.

"Sleeping?" She stood in the doorway. I'll make sure he's awake," Jessica jutted out of the small office with the bag.

The warped floorboards creaked as Jessica walked onto Roger's porch. The porch light's yellow bulb made her pale skin glow. She turned the knob. Locked. She tried again more firmly.

It was only a quarter after ten. She stepped back looking at the window. Fortunately for Jessica, Roger didn't believe in home improvement. The blinds on his window were falling apart, askew just enough for her to look in through.

The living room was a cave of shadows. No TV glow, no Roger lump on the couch. She sank onto the porch bench, the wood crooked and off tilt, and placed the grocery bag at her feet. Her head looked both ways down the road to see if anyone was out.

It was a quiet night in the neighborhood. The bag rattled as she spread it open. A six pack of lime Gatorade, four bottles of Nyquil, and a greeting card. "He must be drinking these by the bottle," Jessica said, examining the Nyquil.

"Get well soon Rog." Jerry signed the inside of the card.

"Leave it to these two over the hill frat boys to have a bromance," she said, gathering everything into the bag. Part of her wanted to learn more about their relationship, where they met, how they became close friends.

Jessica left the bag on Roger's welcome mat that read, "Fuck Off". She listened and went home.

The next day, the automatic doors flew open, and Roger strolled into the store like a prizefighter entering the ring, walking like he owned the place. He spotted Jerry in the butcher section, hunched over a clipboard. "Jerr-bear!" Roger shouted, slapping him between the shoulder blades so hard it sent the inventory sheets fluttering. "You saved my ass!"

"You're looking more alive than ever." Jerry said, happy to see Roger back on his feet.

"Oh, I'm back baby, alive and kicking, and totally in your debt." Roger draped an arm over Jerry's shoulder. "Owe you one, Jerr. Gonna pay you back in spades. That's a promise."

Jerry chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. What are friends for? Just don't go dying on me."

"No no, I insist." Roger's hand squeezed Jerry's shoulder. "Name your price. Twelve pack? Ribeye? Strip club? I'll detail your shitbox Honda. Hell, I'll think of something extra special," he added, giving Jerry's chest a light tap.

Roger's smile faltered as movement caught his eye over his shoulder. Jessica muscled a loaded pallet jack stacked with soft drinks through the store, her ponytail swinging like a pendulum. She pulled, leaning forward, eyes straight ahead as she weaved through the shopping carts, dodging customers left and right, so focused she didn't see either of them.

"Gotta run, Jerr," he clapped Jerry's chest, harder than necessary. "Catch you later."

Without waiting for a reply, Roger slipped away, stalking after Jessica like a predator on the hunt. He hung back, keeping a safe distance as he watched her maneuver the heavy pallet jack to its destination. Aisle six.

Roger locked on to Jessica halfway down the aisle, her arms taut as she muscled along with boxes of soda cases. He prowled the perimeter, staying at the end of the aisle, hiding behind a chip display.

At the empty shelf, she dropped fluidly to one knee, her movements precise as she began restocking with the efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times. Roger watched from the end of the aisle, torso peaking around the corner. Same Jessica, methodical, unhurried, and utterly captivating. When he finally approached, she was deep in the rhythm of it, rotating each sports drink so the labels faced forward, her fingers adjusting them with ease.

"Guess who's back," he said, like he'd thought about what to say for the last five minutes.

She didn't look up. Didn't pause. Just kept working, hearing him but not acknowledging his presence. Between her absence and his flu, this was the longest they'd gone without crossing paths. Undeterred and accustomed to her cold shoulder, Roger began loading his empty basket with neon colored energy drinks. Hyper Voltage, Thunder Punch, and Monster Maxx, each can screaming 300% daily caffeine.

"Come on, admit it," he said, dropping another can into his basket with a metallic clatter. "This place isn't the same without me."

Jessica still didn't respond. She wasn't sure where she stood with him, so she waited, letting him reveal his hand first.

"So, big game this weekend," Roger continued, his grin widening like a man scratching off a lottery ticket. "Since Jerry took your spot last time, figured it's about damn time you stopped by my place."

Jessica stood, adjusting her ponytail with a sharp tug.

"114 times."

Roger blinked. "Huh?"

"Invitations," she said, her voice colder than the freezer section. "To your big games. 114 Saturdays? There aren't even that many weekends in a year. You're delusional."

Roger laughed, pulling a can from his basket and holding it like a six shooter pointed at Jessica. "Ain't you ever heard? You miss every shot you don't take." He lowered the imaginary gun. "Besides, there's always something big going on at my place," he said, moving the can to his crotch.

Jessica's eyes dropped to the can, unimpressed. "Those will kill you faster than the flu."

Roger shook the basket, the cans rattling like maracas. "Gotta live while I'm alive, right?"

"Health foods section," she said smoothly. "Organic pomegranate juice. Next to the cold presses. You could use the antioxidants." She paused, her eyes flicking downward. "They're good for your... circulation."

Roger's grin faltered. The energy drinks rattled in the basket as he took a defensive stance. "My circulation's just fine! Since when does health advice come with the shopping experience around here?"

Jessica feline eyes paused in thought. She snatched the Monster Maxx from his hand, her fingers struggling to wrap around the circumference of the can. She drummed her fingers on the aluminum, opening and closing her palm, as she weighed it in her hand.

"I don't see it," she said disparagingly, giving it a quick pump, "Maybe on your best day 25 years ago."

The can hissed as she cracked it open, green foam erupting over her knuckles. She raised it to her lips, never breaking eye contact, and licked the froth from her skin with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue

"Gross," she whispered, barely audible.

Then she tossed it like a grenade at Roger's feet. The can clattered across the linoleum like a fumbled football, spraying sticky green liquid in its wake. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding the worst of it, his expression caught between confusion and disbelief.

By the time Roger looked up Jessica was already rounding the corner. "Cleanup on aisle six," she shouted looking around for the nearest bag boy to boss around.

"Spill. Aisle six," Jessica ordered to Kyle standing idly by the register. "Go." He raced past her to get the mop and bucket, no questions asked, as Jessica hurried away.

Roger waved goodbye to Jerry and made his way to the registers. He left the scene baffled and with sticky shoes. He trudged to register three, basket heavy with energy drinks. The checkout line beeped, but made no progress, as he thought as hard as he could but failed to process what just happened.

Jessica reemerged from the other side of the store, making her way down the registers. She strode past him like a shadow and tossed the organic pomegranate juice into his basket. The carton landed with a soft thud, atop the cans.

"Welcome back," she said, already walking away.

October clamped down on the college town like a werewolf, forcing everyone into the fall routine with crisp air and pumpkin spice. The football season marched on and so did the Bison's winning streak. The big dance at Jessica's high school was one week away. She did her best to ignore the obnoxious posters plastered everywhere, "The Bloody Bash! Boo there or Boo square! Friday 31st, 7:00 PM."

For two weeks, Jessica, Jerry, and Roger, settled into the rhythm of their accustomed routines. Jessica rushed through her homework, then made her way to work. Jerry endured long, hectic days at the store, with the occasional jog. As for Roger, he spent his time fixated on Jessica's ass and engaging Jerry with fantasy football talk when he wasn't watching TV.

Jessica stood in the frozen food aisle, her price gun beeping as she tagged pints of rocky road. The sudden eruption of laughter cut through the freezer's white noise.

She looked up. Aaron Davis swaggered toward her, flanked by his varsity offensive line, their letterman jackets in red and gold. His handsome smile was a knife, sharpened by years of adoration and unearned privilege. He waved a hand made sign, "Jessica, be my Scream Queen?"

"Jessica!" Aaron whooped, draping his jacket over her shoulders before she could react. His friends circled, phones raised, screens glowing like torches. They were all smiles and high fives as they watched their quarterback make his move.

Jessica's fingers curled around the price gun, plastic creaking. "Thank you, Aaron," she said, voice steady as she shrugged off the jacket, "but I'll pass. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

The pack's mood shifted. Aaron winked at them before going for another try. He leaned in, close enough for her to see the zit cream smeared under his chin. "I'm the hottest guy, you're the hottest girl. It's good math. Me plus you, be my Scream Queen the Halloween Dance?" He looked around, hyping his pack with his waving arms, his friends egging him on, phone cameras aimed their way.

"You know, I'm being scouted by multiple colleges in the Big 10. I'm going to be a star, just wanted to give you a taste before you see me on TV. Let's talk about the dance outside in my Mustang." he said, confident in a comeback. Jessica pushed his letterman into his chest.

A voice cut through the commotion, "Problem here?"

Jerry stood at the end of the aisle, coffee mug and clipboard in hand. His eyes flicked to the boys, then to Jessica, her cheeks burning under the fluorescent lights.

Aaron straightened, all charm. "Just inviting Jessica to the dance, sir."

"She decline?" he pressed them.

"Actually we were just going outside to talk about it." Aaron smiled and joined his pack.

"Then move along." Jerry's voice cracked like a whip. "You're blocking the aisle."

The pack scattered, phones stashed, their laughter reduced to muffled complaints as they filed out.

"Aren't you going with them?" Jerry asked.

"I had it under control," she snapped, putting away her box cutter and flinging a tub of ice cream into the freezer.

"I never said you didn't," he said, walking away.