You Don't Know Jack Schmidt (Schmidt Load #1)

by Susan Renee

  * * *

  Jax: I can tell you with one hundred percent honesty that I’ve never watched either of those. Getting to really know someone is hard enough without parading everyone in front of television camera.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Tell me about it. I’m an Agents of Shield girl any day! I like action or humor.

  * * *

  Jax: Alright, here’s a question then: What television character do you identify with the most?

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Easy. Lily Aldrin from How I Met Your Mother.

  * * *

  Jax: LOL! Love that show! Can never get enough of Neil Patrick Harris!

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Agreed. People say I look like Alyson Hannigan. She’s kind of my spirit animal. But not like, American Pie Alyson. Just H.I.M.Y.M Alyson.

  * * *

  Jax: Phew! Thought we were going to have a conversation about band camp.

  Her end goes silent for a few minutes and I sit at my computer wondering what she’s up to. Is she sitting on the other end trying to think of something to say? Is she multitasking as she talks to me? Maybe she’s painting her toes. Maybe she just went to get a drink. I stand up and grab my glass so I can also grab a refill when I my computer dings with another incoming message.

  Want2meet: Hey good lookin’. Want to play?

  “What the hell?” I frown in confusion as I lean in closer to the screen. The message obviously isn’t from Linda. Am I really seeing what I think I’m seeing? Want2meet, whoever this is, is way too forward for anyone I want to associate myself with. “Is that a vag pic?” I ask out loud to nobody. I can’t decide if I should write her back or just ignore her. Maybe Linda can give me her thoughts.

  Jax: Hey Linda, Uh…haha I have a question.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Oh no, why do I feel like this might not be good? ☺

  * * *

  Jax: Well….um…so I just got another private message from some other female…that includes a picture.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Ok…

  * * *

  Jax: Pretty sure it’s a vag pic

  * * *

  NoRagrets: OMG! You got a vag pic? Do girls really do that? PLEASE SAY NO!

  * * *

  Jax: Uh…no…yes…I…guess so? I don’t know! This is the first time it’s happened to me.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: That’s so gross! I wouldn’t even send one of those to someone I was seeing! There’s nothing cute about a vagina! And who wants that shit floating around the internet? What did you say? (not that you have to tell me because you don’t)

  * * *

  Jax: I haven’t said anything yet, because what the hell do you say to a vag pic? Should I be flattered? Haha!

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Ummm I mean, if you want to be flattered go for it, but I’m about 97% certain that she sent that pic to more than just one guy. You’re probably supposed to send a dick pic back to her. You up for that? (Pun...maybe intended?)

  * * *

  Jax: *blocks creepy vagina girl* Phew!

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Do you need a different kind of pic to get your mind off of the ugly vag?

  * * *

  Jax: Maybe. Do you have something in mind?

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Yeah. I do. Hahaha! Are you ready?

  * * *

  Jax: Oh, God. I don’t know…am I?

  My nerves are suddenly going haywire not knowing what kind of picture she’s about to send. I hate to be the guy who doesn’t want a picture of a boob or a vagina, but her sending one would put her in the same category as all the other weirdos out there. I don’t want her to be classified in that group of women. I kind of like talking to her.

  NoRagrets: Ok here they come.

  I wait a few seconds for something to appear and when they do, I let out a sigh of relief. One is a picture of the back of someone’s hair colored a nice shade of purple. The other is a woman whose hair is deep red. Both are eccentric, but tastefully nice.

  NoRagrets: I can’t choose a hair color.

  * * *

  Jax: Hmm…both are nice, but I like the red one the best.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Ok. Maybe I’ll give it a shot. It’s just hair, right?

  * * *

  Jax: I admire a girl who isn’t so particular about her hair. Good for you.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: You only live once, right?

  * * *

  Jax: Absolutely. Be bold. Take chances!

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Lol. Is that your mantra?

  * * *

  Jax: Ha! No. My mantra is Nothing changes if nothing changes.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Are you trying to change something?

  * * *

  Jax: Maybe? We’ll see.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Hmm. Want to know my mantra?

  * * *

  Jax: Sure.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Inhale Tacos. Exhale Negativity. Namaste.

  * * *

  Jax: LOL! That’s excellent. And I think I need to change my mantra. I like yours way better!

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Well my friend, if nothing changes, nothing changes. So, change away ;)

  * * *

  Jax: Hahaha Amen!

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Talking to you is fun. Sometimes I feel like you’re sitting right here next to me.

  * * *

  Jax: Someday Maybe.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Yeah. Someday…but I should call it a night. I have the open shift in the morning which means getting up at the ass crack of dawn.

  * * *

  Jax: I feel for you. Sweet dreams Linda.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Sweet dreams Jack.

  Chapter Six

  Linda

  Sometimes I wonder who on earth would need to enter The Hole Punch at seven-thirty in the morning. It’s either a college student rushing to get their latest report printed and bound for a deadline, or a corporate world yuppie coming in to place an order for more office chairs or if we’re lucky, a whole shit ton of laptops, all with service plans which yield us the most profit. So, no matter who walks in that early in the morning it’s usually to make someone’s mistake our emergency. There’s not enough coffee in the world to make me want to deal with those people. But there is enough coffee at Rise and Grind, the coffee shop right across the parking lot from our store, which is where I’ve just come from.

  “Anyone know where Kyle is?” I ask over my headset a half hour later.

  “Uh, yeah I’m pretty sure he’s going to be late,” Eric replies.

  “What? Why? He never called in.” I point out.

  “I imagine he’s hung over as shit.” Eric says. “He was out late last night partying for some kid’s twenty-first birthday. I saw him around nine and he was still partying when I left at eleven.”

  “Great.” I scoff. “Wait till he gets his ass in this building. I’ll make him rue the day he ever partied that late before an early morning shift.”

  Gah! Why do these associates have to be such asshats all the damn time? Why can’t they just be responsible working adults who come to work, do their job, go home, eat, sleep, and repeat? Sure, I’ve been known to party it up just like anyone else. Hell, I’ve even woken up in the bed of the previous one night’s stand, but I’ve still made it to work on time.

  “Alright, let’s get started on the freight. Jenna will be here in a few hours and she’ll want numbers.”

  An hour goes by before Kyle walks into the store looking like the newest extra cast on The Walking Dead. I watch him put his headset on from inside the office and turn it on. It’s then that I shout, “GOOD MORNING KYLE!” as loud as I can, causing him to react like a cat falling off the kitchen counter. I watch as he looks around for me, but can’t find me. He ducks his head and walks toward the office supply
side of the store.

  “Not so fast, Asshat,” I call to him, praying there aren’t customers around who may have heard that. Last I checked, there were no cars in the parking lot. “Where the hell have you been, Kyle?”

  Kyle’s eyes are barely open. A tell-tale sign that he’s got himself a nice big headache. “I was sick.”

  “Sick huh?” I repeat, patting him strongly on the back. “Did you worship the porcelain throne this morning?”

  Kyle nods his head slowly. “More than once and maybe from more than one end.”

  “Oh, that’s TMI Kyle. I didn’t need to know that, but that’s what happens when you spend the night throwing back shots of tequila for someone’s birthday.”

  “It wasn’t tequila and it was his twenty-first…”

  “Was it your twenty-first birthday, Kyle?” I interrupt him.

  “No.”

  “No. It wasn’t, because you’re almost thirty, Kyle.”

  “I’m twenty-six.” He corrects me.

  “That’s right. And twenty-six rounds up to thirty, Kyle. So, let’s just say you’re almost thirty. Definitely old enough to know that you have responsibilities early in the morning.”

  “Yeah. I hear you. I’m sorry I was late.”

  “Not only are you late, you’re hung over. And you know what that means, Kyle?”

  “What?”

  “It means I can’t put you in front of customers right now because I can’t have you falling asleep on them or vomiting on my nice clean carpets. So, guess what, Kyle? You get to spend the morning putting away freight in the back.”

  “Okay,” he says, quietly nodding.

  “And if I were you, I would think long and hard before coming to work hung over again,” I admonish him as I watch him walk away. I then head back to the office mumbling to myself.

  “Good Lord, how is it that people can’t just do their jobs around here in a responsible and respectable way?”

  “What are you bitchin’ about now?” I walk into the office and am surprised to see Jenna hanging up her coat.

  “Hey biotch! What are you doing here so early? I thought you weren’t coming in until noon?”

  “I couldn’t look at fabric anymore. I’m driving myself crazy at home getting ready for this bridal show and Jacoby had work to do so I just came in early. Why…do you want me to leave?” She chides.

  “Ha! Hell no, you’re not leaving now! I have an extremely hungover and probably nauseous asshat in the back working on freight so feel free to show him how much it sucks to be hungover at work.” I wink and step out to answer her ringing phone at the tech desk.

  “Thank you for calling The Hole Punch, this is Linda speaking, how may I help you?”

  “Linda?” A hushed voice says on the other end of the line.

  “Yes.” I want to answer back in a whisper just to be a jerk, but I don’t.

  “It’s Larry. Is anybody listening to this call?” I roll my eyes and mentally kick myself for even picking up the phone. Larry Seymore calls here no less than three times a week thinking there is something wrong with his computer. And while there may or may not be something wrong with it, regardless of the issue, it’s always a government conspiracy in Mr. Seymore’s mind. He’s convinced he’s being watched by secret agents at all hours of the day. It’s humorous…and sad at the same time.

  “Uh, I don’t think so Mr. Seymore. What can I do for you today?” I speak up and stretch my neck back toward the office so Jenna knows who I’m talking to. I laugh as she jumps up from the desk, waving her hands back and forth in front of her and shaking her head, no. She hates having to talk to Larry Seymore. I try to get her on the phone with him almost every time he calls.

  “Listen, Linda. I was checking my email this morning when a light flashed on my computer and I’m telling you, someone is watching. I’ve already put duct tape over the camera so nobody can watch me through there, but I think something is wrong with my computer.”

  “Why would you think that? Did something happen?” I ask him, smirking and wondering how I’m going to get Jenna on the phone with him.

  “Those fucking dickheads messed with my computer for the last time, I tell you! The LAST TIME! They make me so fucking mad!”

  And I thought I swore like a sailor.

  He’s the only customer I’ve known who swears this much in a conversation with us. Geesh!.

  “Mr. Seymore, if you live by yourself, then there’s no way anyone else can mess with your computer, unless you don’t have it hooked up to a secure network. Do you have a secure network?”

  “I sure do, of course! But it’s those government pigs we’re talking about! Hackers! They can get into anybody’s life through their technology! Their computers, their phones, man, I’m glad I don’t have a fucking pace maker because I’m pretty sure they could fuck with those too!”

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right. Listen, if you give me just a minute, I think I can find someone who can help you, okay? Let me put you on hold for just a moment.”

  “Okay, but if I start to hear the voices on the other end, I’m going to hang up and you can call me back,” he tells me.

  “Okay Mr. Seymore. Be right back.” I put him on hold and hang up the phone and then quietly walk to the center of the store where the customer service desk is.

  “Gina, can you do me a favor?” I ask, unable to wipe the devilish grin off my face.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’m going to walk toward the back of the store. Give me about forty-five seconds and then call for Jenna and tell her there’s a call for her on line three.”

  “Uh, okay,” Gina says, cocking her head and wondering what I’m up to. She’s not privy to the pranks I like to play on Jenna, but this one will be good. She’ll hate me for the rest of the day but she’ll get over it. She loves me too much.

  NoRagrets: I mean, I know I work in a retail establishment but how the hell does someone come to work extremely hung over and think that that’s acceptable?

  * * *

  Jax: Uh oh. Bad day?

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Actually, it wasn’t all that bad, but man I work with a few idiots. One of our associates was out partying late last night for a twenty-first birthday party.

  * * *

  Jax: Say no more. I can imagine the scene.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Yeah. So, between him and the old senile guy who calls us regularly, thinking he’s the victim of an insane government conspiracy, it’s been a day.

  * * *

  Jax: Never a dull moment though, eh?

  * * *

  NoRagrets: Yeah you could say that! Maybe I shouldn’t judge. I can’t even remember my twenty first birthday. I’m pretty sure I drank the entire day away. How about you?

  * * *

  Jax: Uh, let’s just say it was a memorable day.

  * * *

  NoRagrets: LOL! Sounds like a good story there…or a really bad one!

  * * *

  Jax: Yeah…definitely a story. Someday maybe I’ll share all the memorable details.

  Chapter Seven

  JACK - 2010

  “Happy Birthday big man!”

  “Happy Birthday Jack!”

  “Hey Schmidt Stain! Happy twenty-one, man!”

  “Twenty-one? Watch out!”

  Those are all the greetings I get as I walk through the Political Science building today. It’s been a crazy day so far. I’ve never really been much for partying and I’m not great at accepting attention for any reason other than to win some sort of academic award, so in a way, this day has been a hard one for me. Mom and Dad have already called to wish me a happy birthday. Mom of course told me to just be careful, but Dad felt the need to remind me not to do anything stupid that could damage my academic career. I’ve never given him any reason to think I would do otherwise. Maybe it’s just a dad’s right of passage to warn his child not to go nuts on his twenty-first birthday.

  “Jack! Wait up!” Jaco
by calls out, jogging down the hallway. When he catches up to me he wraps his arm around my shoulder and asks, “You ready for tonight?”

  “What’s tonight?” Please tell me he didn’t plan a major keg party for tonight or something. He knows that isn’t me.

  “Your birthday party, Schmidt Stain! Or have you forgotten?” He laughs.

  “Jacoby, I promised my parents I wouldn’t do anything stupid. I don’t need to get shit-faced and…”

  “No, no, no, Jack. Don’t worry about that. Can you have a drink or two? Yes! But I promise, this will be better than that. Tonight, my friend…” Jacoby holds his arms out wide. “You have a date with Destiny!” He winks and walks off to his next class leaving me confused, and if I’m being honest, a tiny bit scared for my life.