The VP and the Janitor
<Creep by Radiohead begins to play in the background>
A half hour after Alvin reentered the library after the infamous beer run, Will found him in the gym repeatedly throwing one of the dodgeballs against the wall.
Sensing the older man’s stress, Will called out “You look like you could use a break.” which led them to their current predicament (anticlimactic yes, but it happened).
They were in Will’s “break room”, which was actually a janitor’s closet the custodian had commandeered and personalized. It was a place where he could get away from it all, whenever life got to him he just went to his safe space. Seeing the VP’s current state he figured why not invite him in?
The room (which was little more than a closet) was a narrow space, though that was more due to Alvin’s larger, bulkier frame if anything. The walls were grey and dank, a small sink was situated against the left wall and a rack filled with miscellaneous cleaning supplies and toiletries was pushed against the wall on the right. Pushing his cart off to the side, Will pulled up the one folding chair and dug out his thermos and lunch pack. “Wanna share my sandwich?” He asked, holding out one half of a ham and swiss cheese sandwich on sourdough bread.
To which Alivn shrugged, “Eh, why not?” and took the other half of Will’s sandwich.
“Why did you become a teacher?” Will asked him.
“Why did you become a janitor?” Alvin retorted.
“Needed something to pay my way through college,” He replied evenly. “Plus, the pay’s decent.”
“Can’t imagine it being much in the long run.” Alvin commented mid-chew.
“You do what you can in this economy.” Will answered, pulling out a Diet Coke from his lunch pack.
“I thought we were doing better economically.”
“Mr. President’s been breathing life back into the stock market,” Will replied through a mouthful of his sandwich. “But it’s not always enough. And just ‘cause America’s doing fine money-wise, doesn’t mean everyone else is.”
Alvin nodded in understanding.
“Still didn’t answer my question.” Will said, pausing to take a sip from his soda can. “Why did you become a teacher?”
“I dunno,” Alvin shrugged. “I just did. Went to college, got my degree, and after fifteen years I got a job offer in the US and crossed the pond.”
“What’s the biggest difference between teaching in the UK vs teaching in the States?”
“Americans stopped paddling kids.” He deadpanned, to which the younger man snorted. “Still though, at least kids listen in the UK. Over here you got brats like that Walker kid running amok and doing whatever the hell they want just ‘cause they got a shit ton of cash.”
“I heard you advocated for his expulsion after Hannah died.” Will said.
“Figured I needed to do something instead of twiddle my thumbs like the rest of those duds on the faculty.” Alvin retorted. “Y’know, I knew there was something going on with Baker. I-I knew there was something up with that kid, but I didn’t know what that was until…” He shook his head. “Now all I can think about is her parents.”
“Do you believe the things she said on those tapes?” Will asks him.
“I believe Bryce did something to her.” Alvin returned. “And, I also believe that Hannah could have gotten help if one of us had just, listened to her.”
“Like you listen to your kids?”
Alvin narrowed his eyes at the younger man, who was just sitting back and nonchalantly sipping his soda.
“Do you know what scares me the most about this generation? Do you?” Alvin asks. “It’s the fact that when I get old–when you get old–those troublemaking little twats will be the ones taking care of us. And that fucking terrifies me, because I know that none of those kids respect or listen to me or any of the adults around them. They wouldn’t be here today if they did, but they don’t care. These kids–this generation, they’re fucking apathetic. They don’t care about us, they don’t respect us, those brats think we’re just a bunch a’ old fogies who’re here to corral them for the day and make sure they don’t get to do whatever the hell they want.
“Now, I have tried getting through to these kids, but they don’t care! And if they don’t care, then why the hell should I waste my time caring about them?” Will snorted, which made Alvin annoyed. “Y’know something,” He said, “Every year they get more and more uppity, and one day I realized that those thankless little shits turned on me. Only I now know that it wasn’t overnight–it was gradual.”
“You know that’s bullshit, right?” Will smirks. “The kids haven’t changed, you have.”
Alvin scoffs and crumples up the remnants of the sandwich and tosses them into the trash can.
“You know what I think?” Will asks, to which Alvin just gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I think that you became a teacher because you thought it would be fun or easy. You figured all you had to do was just show up, do whatever, and once summer vacations came up you get to kick back and relax. But you got turned off by it because you realized you had to work–that bummed you out, and when you went from regular teacher to VP you realized just how thankless this job is.”
“Doesn’t make it not true.” Alvin retorted.
“Look, Al,” Will said, “If you were sixteen, what would you think of you now?”
“Do you think I give a rat’s arse about what these kids think?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You wanna know what they think about me?” Alvin snaps. “Those brats think I’m a big fucking joke.”
“And yet “those brats” are gonna take care of us.” Will retorts, downing what was left of his soda and chucking it into the trash can with a metallic thunk! “Though, at the rate you’re going, I wouldn’t count on it.”