The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Twenty – Tales from the Unemployment Line

Fired? Holy shit.

Really? Me? Fired from my job???

This doesn’t happen to people like me. This happens to OTHER people. You know, people who are lazy, incompetent, under-qualified or rude.

Not smart, studious, polite Asian guys like ME!

Motherfucker…

It’s been nearly two hours since I was fired from my annoying but stable job at Wellford Fitness Center. Here I am, lying in bed, eyes glazed over and a million thoughts running through my mind. Did I really just get fired for doing what I just did?

I mean, I got fired because I was caught having sex with one of my fellow employees. And not just any employee, for the record. I got caught by my boss having sex with Michelle, a hot perfect blonde. Michelle is the type of girl I could NEVER get in a billion years. She’s the type of girl every guy fantasizes about. She’s the type who gets muscle jerks like Big Danny, not awkward Asian guys like Ryan Takahashi.

I wonder what Michelle is thinking right now. Is she thinking “Gee, I’m such an idiot! I got fired for screwing Ryan! WTF????”

Or is she getting drunk right now? Or did she decide to go back to Big Danny out of desperation? Gosh, I hope not…

Oh well. She’s a wonderful personal trainer and one of the most gorgeous human beings on planet Earth. I’m sure she won’t have any problem finding another job.

Me, on the other hand, will have a much tougher time. I’m not as cute as her or as skilled in the fitness industry.

If only there were jobs for history majors just flying off the shelves. That would be convenient.

So, the next day I immediately start applying for jobs. I wake up at 8 a.m. sharp (which, believe it or not, is sleeping in for me!) and search the usual online job databases for attractive openings. Twelve cover letters later, I look up at my clock and see it is 11:27 a.m.

Time for lunch!

Because I’m strapped for cash, I’m going to have to resort to a boring peanut butter and jelly sandwich, baked potato chips and whatever cheap beer I have in the refrigerator. Ah, yes. The life of being unemployed. Oh joy. I can hardly contain my excitement.

Blah.

It’s a very surreal experience. I’m still – even 24 hours later – completely in shock over how I lost my job. I lost my job at the peak of orgasm. I was fired the moment my boss saw me and Michelle nearly consummate our impromptu coupling session. Even thinking about it gives me the chills. I still wonder what Michelle is doing right now. Is she agonizing over her poor decision to let her vagina (and my penis) get in the way of maintaining a paid job? Or has she been hired right off the bat by some other gym?

God only knows.

After lunch, I decide to take a stroll down the street and inspect the local businesses. I might strike gold and discover one of them is hiring. Stranger things have happened. There are plenty of cute little boutiques, shops and restaurants around here that might be hiring this very instant. This could be my lucky day.

Enjoying a sunny but chilly early afternoon, I see no one has a “NOW HIRING” sign hung up on their door. Well, shoot. Seattle is a large city after all, so there’s no use being down in the dumps quite yet.

Of course, I always have Sam’s proposition on the table. You know…being a high class drug dealer.

Holy shit. The fact that this crossed my mind is making me shudder. I need to stop thinking about this! Because the more I think about it, the more likely I’ll end up rationalizing a reason to take him up on his offer. And thoughts have a funny way of becoming reality if you’re not careful.

Hm. Nothing is around here. Just endless businesses with all their employment needs met. No signs of desperate storeowners needing a helping hand. No damsels in distress willing to pay me a million bucks to save her from danger. Nothing of the sorts.

Damn.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see a business called “Cascade Temporary Staffing.” Uh huh. Temporary staffing. Well, I guess a few temp jobs here and there wouldn’t hurt. I’m not hurting for money, but a little extra green in the bank certainly could help me get through the holiday season. This could also be a great way to get my foot in the door with a great company. Gee, maybe I should inquire within and see what opportunities they have available!

And that’s exactly what I do.

I walk inside the building and see a long line. A verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry long line. Holy cow! There must be at least 40 or 50 people here! All they’re doing is waiting, carrying their résumés and hoping for a shot at a decent job.

Wow, it’s really sad in here.

This economy definitely is not improving at the rate we’d all hope. This explains the long line. Although I didn’t bring a CV or anything, but I’m here and I have some time to kill, so I guess there’s no harm in waiting in line with the rest of these folks. Who knows? I might walk out of here with a job interview in my pocket. You never know…

(Time passes)

25 minutes later, I think I’ve moved maybe nine feet. There’s about four or five dozen people here and only two Cascade Temporary Staffing employees helping us all. Gee, how ironic is it when a staffing agency is understaffed?

Meanwhile, I have nothing to do but overhear the colorful conversations of the people both in front and behind me. I must say, random people talking about random nonsense can be the most entertaining thing you’ll ever witness. For example, here’s a sample of a conversation between two teenage girls, one dressed like a biker chick and the other looking like she bought all her clothes at a Value Village blow-out sale.

Girl 1: You’re not going to believe this. Holy fucking shit.

Girl 2: What is it?

Girl 1: You know that guy I was with for a while? Craig?

Girl 2: Yeah. What about him?

Girl 1: He got arrested yesterday. And he just texted me. Do you know who his cellmate is?

Girl 2: Who?

Girl 1: My baby’s daddy. Holy fuck! That shit is fucking messed up.

Girl 2: Fuck.

Girl 1: My ex is cellmates with my baby’s daddy. Holy shit.

Girl 2: Yeah, girl.

Seriously. This is the crap I have to listen to in this God-forsaken unemployment line. I don’t want to sound too condescending, but I’m going to guess that neither of these ladies (both of whom couldn’t be older than 16 or 17) have a college degree or any employable skills beyond gossiping, getting pregnant and texting.

SMH.

Oh my God! Am I using Internet-speak? Am I degrading two people I don’t even know for having no “employable skills” when I just got fired for doing it doggy-style with a female co-worker? I am in no position to judge.

This is what unemployment does to you. It kicks your sense of self-worth out the door.

Finally, after what seems like a whole hour (but it was only about 40 minutes), I get to the front of the line and have the chance to speak to a staffing agent. The guy is named Stephen and he looks bored to death. Hey, I don’t blame him one bit. This place is a depressing cesspool full of desperate, jobless folks who would rather be somewhere else. If I worked here, I’d jump off a bridge in no time!

“Did you bring your résumé with you, Mr. Takahashi?”

“No, I did not. I came here on a whim.”

“In that case, fill out these forms and turn them in to window #5, please. Then we’ll process it and schedule a real face-to-face interview sometime next week.”

Stephen points to window #5, which is being manned by a guy who looks even more depressed than him. Boy! This place is giving me bad vibes.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. No problem. Next!”

I walk away and find a chair in the waiting area. I thumb through the application papers, looking for what type of information they need from me. Holy cow. There must be at least thirty pages here! They’re asking for all my employment history, school records, criminal history, opinions about workplace ethics, professional AND personal references and writing samples. It even includes a math quiz (Really? Just because I’m Asian doesn’t mean I can do math!) and a personality test.

Oh. My. God. I REALLY don’t want to fill out all this crap. Seriously. Can’t someone just give me a job already? It’s only been one day and I’m already sounding as emo as a middle school kid playing with a razor blade in my mom’s minivan. Do they really expect me to fill out all this today?

You know what? Screw this. Screw this!

I get up from my chair, dump the application on the floor, give Stephen the “evil eye” and storm out the door. I don’t need this. Seriously, I don’t. I’m not going to fill out my entire life’s history just so I can get a temp job being an accountant at some disease-ridden hellhole. I need to be doing something where I feel useful, not where I’m disposable.

Yes, I just burned a bridge, but it’s nothing major and I’m sure this will not come back to haunt me anytime soon. I’ll just keep strolling down this street and see what else comes up.

Hm….

Nothing much yet. Now I’m outside the business area and moving into a residential neighborhood. I don’t think anyone around here is hiring. God…I’m depressed right now.

Like, really depressed. I don’t know why, but this entire week has been one big blur. One moment I have a stable job, the next moment I’m having sex with a gorgeous female bodybuilder, then all of a sudden I’m unemployed and on the verge of being broke.

Whew. I need a drink. I need some whiskey.

As I sulk around this particular neighborhood, I’m instantly reminded of a time when I was a child and I was the last kid picked to play kickball during recess. As I stood in the field, waiting for the ball to ever get to me, I didn’t feel happy that I was playing with my “friends.” I was sad because they thought so low of me that they chose me last, even after all the girls! I forced a smile and did my best, which wasn’t much.

I feel a lot like that now. I feel like Life has chosen me last to play kickball. I feel like Life would rather take any of those people waiting in line in front of me back there than little old Ryan. I get the sense that Life is looking down upon me and laughing at my expense.

Life would rather help out those two girls and the incarcerated baby’s daddy than me.

My melancholy daydream breaks when I hear a dog barking at me. Furious that I’ve trespassed onto “his” sidewalk, I turn around and decide to go back home. There’s nothing for me here. My best chance of landing a decent job is finding one online, not wandering around aimlessly hoping to win the employment lottery.

And to think I wasted 40 minutes of my life waiting in that bloody unemployment line. I could have been doing something more productive like watching TV, jogging, eating, sleeping, masturbating or taking a long crap.

Speaking of taking a long crap (which is such a pleasant thought, by the way), I REALLY need to pee. It truly is time to go home.

But this time, I’m not going to wait around for anyone to pick me for kickball. I’m starting MY OWN team!

Onward! And onto bigger and better things!!!

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Nineteen – Fired

Sure enough, I was very sore the next day. Come Monday morning, I could barely get out of bed without being reminded of my aching pelvis.

Oh well. That’s a small price to pay for experiencing the greatest night of my life.

The greatest night of my life. Yes…I can actually say that. It truly was the greatest single night of my life. The morning afterward wasn’t bad either.

But alas, I have to go to work because that’s what responsible adults do. So here I am, it’s 10:26 a.m. and I’m stuck in the laundry room cleaning sweat towels nobody bothered to do anything about yesterday. This is not an unusual occurrence.

Ho hum. What to do? I have to wait a whole week till I can see Cindi again. Damn. That’s going to be hard. All I can think about is Cindi North and the carnal activities we shared on Saturday night. I bet if I told every single person here at Wellford Fitness Center I had sex with a female bodybuilder this past weekend, none of them would believe me.

Who cares? I know it’s true and that’s all that matters.

Michelle, the cute receptionist/personal trainer whom every guy here wants to bang, enters the laundry room carrying a whole new batch of dirty towels. Good God, how many are there? I can’t remember the last time I had to clean so many at once. Is there a sweat epidemic going on around here?

“Here you go. Sorry, Ryan.” Michelle sets the basket down on a table next to me.

“No problem. It’s my job. Are there more people than usual here today?”

“Yes, I think so. I had four clients show up already. That almost never happens.”

“Hm.” My monotonous response is borne out of the dread of having to smell more people’s drippings. Will this madness ever stop?

Michelle prepares to leave but stops before she gets through the door.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I turn around, surprised by this. Michelle almost NEVER wants to make casual conversation with me. Especially when we’re busy at work. Doesn’t she have another client to attend to? And why would she want to hang out around here? I’d think the stench alone would encourage her to run out of here as fast as she can.

“Sure, Michelle. What’s your question?”

“Are you dating that girl that I saw you with the other day?”

I’m taken aback by this comment. Who is she referring to? Cindi North? Did Michelle see me with Cindi North this past weekend? That’s impossible, unless Michelle happened to be in Everett at the same time I was. I suppose that’s possible, but it’s not likely…

“What girl are you talking about? Does she work out here?”

“Yes, she does. I saw you talking with this really pretty black girl at that coffee place down the road. Are you hooking up with her or something?”

“Oh! You mean Monifa. You’re right; I was having lunch with her last week. No, we’re not dating. We just met each other. Gee, you’re quite the stalker!”

Michelle takes a few steps toward me, assuring me she wasn’t being a creeper. Ah…this makes sense! Of course she wouldn’t have seen me with Cindi North. She easily could have seen me with Monifa. And, Monifa does in fact work out here regularly.

“Ha! I’m not stalking you. I just thought it was kind of cool. Do you know she’s one of my clients now? I’m helping her get ready for a bodybuilding competition.”

My head starts to spin as I hear this. Monifa is training to become a bodybuilder? Really? Does she have time to do that? I guess bodybuilding is sort of an art and she does consider herself to be an “artist.” She can live her life the way she wants to, I suppose.

“You are? That’s kind of cool. I had no idea she wants to become a bodybuilder.”

“She says it’s something she wants to try. Why not? Live a little, right?”

“Right. Live a little.”

I stare down at the floor. I sense Michelle is doing the same thing. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had together. She doesn’t usually have this much to say to me. I guess it is rather juicy to see a client have lunch with a coworker outside of work.

“Ryan? Can I ask you another question?”

My eyes leave the floor. I look up at her. Michelle looks gorgeous today, her beach blonde hair waving carelessly below her shoulders. Her fit, toned body is openly on display in her tight black Wellford Fitness Center shirt and petite white shorts. Her breasts look scrumptious, as if they’re beckoning me to give them a firm squeeze. I know for a fact I’d be fired for sexual harassment if I ever considered doing that!

“Yeah, sure. What’s your other question?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Silence.

“Um…uh…I, er, I…”

“Answer me truthfully. Don’t worry. I won’t get offended by whatever you say.”

“Uh…yes! I do find you attractive. You’re one of the prettiest people I know. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes it does. Thanks.”

“Hm…why do you ask? That’s not exactly a typical normal question you ask a coworker, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do. I ask that because…this is going to sound weird, but…when I saw you and Monifa having lunch together that day…I, uh, felt a little…jealous.” Michelle is now the one staring down at the floor. Her feet shift side to side uncomfortably.

I think about this for a moment. Jealous? Why on earth would Michelle, a Perfect Blonde, a Perfect 10, be jealous seeing me having lunch with another woman? It’s not like Michelle and I ever dated before. We’re just coworkers! To top it off, this is without a doubt the longest conversation I’ve ever had with her in all the years we’ve worked together.

WTF???

“Jealous? Um, why are you jealous seeing me with her?”

“I don’t know! I just felt a bit, you know, betrayed seeing you with her. I know…this shit makes no sense. I’m fucked up in the head or something, you know?”

“No, no, no…you’re not fucked up or anything. Maybe you feel, I don’t know…like you’re in competition with her. Is that it?”

“Yeah…that’s probably it. She’s gorgeous and she has a fucking amazing body. I look terrible compared to her.”

“Hey, don’t say that! You look great. Why would you think you look terrible? That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m old. I feel so old!” Tears start to form in her eyes. Oh great! Michelle’s having a midlife crisis at the tender age of 36. Cindi’s 48 and you never see her complain about her age. What’s the world coming to–

“Fuck me.”

My mind turns blank. I look at Michelle but nothing registers in my mind. Did I just hear that correctly?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Fuck me. Right here, right now. Fuck me!”

“Um…I don’t know about this. Isn’t this a bit…sudden?”

“I don’t give a shit. I want you to fuck me, Ryan!”

Michelle turns around, pulls down her shorts and her panties and bends over, exposing her gorgeous round butt to me. Her vulva is glistening, wet and ready. Unlike Cindi, Michelle’s pink vaginal lips look soft and feminine, whereas the Muscle Goddess looks like a burlap sack down there (I know, that’s a crude analogy, but give me a break!). My penis hardens and stands at attention, awakening to this unexpected opportunity.

“I’m not so sure about this…what if Thomas sees us?”

“Who gives a shit about him? I want you to fuck me! Fuck me now!”

“Oh, uh, do you have a condom?”

“Screw that shit! I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yeah…I’m clean.”

“Then we don’t need one. What the fuck are you waiting for? I’ve asked you a million times to fuck me! What are you, scared?”

Scared? Hell no! I’m not scared! What gives her the right to call me scared?

“Fuck you! I’m not scared of anything!”

Anger running through my system, I unzip my pants, pull down my underwear, grip Michelle’s hips and shove my penis inside her, hard and reckless. This time, I’m going to take charge and fuck her like she’s never been fucked before!

Like two wild animals, Michelle remains bent over as I thrust into her from behind. My fingers dig into her flesh as I pound and pound, releasing any pent-up aggression and any doubt that I’m afraid to have sex with a woman in a public place. Wow! This is really something. A beautiful blonde just pulled down her pants and demands I shtup her on the spot.

What is this, the plot to a cheap porno?

As my penis continues to thrust in and out of her, Michelle’s heavy breathing gives way to a loud moan and fills the entire room. Not even the rumble of the washing machine cleaning the towels can completely muffle the sound of us fornicating in the laundry room.

A million thoughts run through my mind at once. Here I am having sex with a prototypical blonde bombshell who never spoke more than two sentences to me at a time. She’s also someone with a checkered past, given the less-than-stellar reputations of some of her previous boyfriends. I also realize she might be going through an early midlife crisis and this is her way of reclaiming her lost youth. Is she jealous that I preferred to socialize with a younger woman like Monifa instead of her? But she never gave any indication that she wants anything to do with me!

And she’s only 36! She’s not old. She looks great for her age. She looks like she can pass for 23 or 24…

These thoughts linger as my orgasm builds ferociously. I feel my climax approaching. My quick thrusts become slower and more measured as I try to penetrate her as deep as I can. I keep imagining Big Danny (her ex-husband) and his extremely huge penis thrusting into her tight little body. How am I doing? Can I compare to him? Is my little Asian penis any match for Danny’s gargantuan, monstrous endowment? Is she feeling anything?

Her loud moans stop and she lets out an uncontrolled scream, loud enough that I’m sure everyone outside this room can hear. But I don’t care about that as I sense my climax coming closer and closer…

“Hey! What the hell!!!”

Michelle stops moving and stands upright. Out of the corner of my eye I see Thomas Wellford, our boss and owner of this gym, standing in the doorway with a look of surprise and outrage on his face. The moment Michelle sees we’ve been caught she jerks forward, my penis suddenly leaving her vagina. This sudden jerk is the final act of stimulation I need to come…

“Aggghhhhh!” I groan, looking up with my eyes closed as I ejaculate all over the floor.

“Holy shit!” Michelle screams to herself, realizing our impromptu coitus session will get both of us in big trouble.

Thomas closes the door behind him and takes a few cautious steps toward us. My mind returning back to reality, I look down and see my semen sprawled across the floor. Did my boss just see me come? Oh FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This…is…unbelievable, you two. This is serious. What the hell are you doing?!!!!” Thomas yells at us. This is going to get ugly. Really ugly. Oh shit…

Michelle’s face is beet red. We’ve been caught literally with our pants down. This is definitely THE MOST AWKWARD MOMENT OF MY LIFE!

“I don’t believe this shit. Half the gym can hear you guys fucking. Are you both out of your minds? What the fuck is going on here? Don’t you know what professionalism means? Really? You two are fucking…in here? During work hours? What the HELLLLLL!!!!!!”

Thomas is REALLY pissed. Holy mother of God. This is bad.

At this moment, Thomas is steaming (I swear I can see smoke coming out of his ears), Michelle is crying and I’m befuddled beyond words.

And this entire time, my semen is awkwardly lying on the floor.

Fuck my life…

***

I’ll spare you the ugly details, but long story short…we both got fired.

Michelle was supposed to see a client but she never reported to the front desk, so Thomas personally searched all over the building for her. And when he found us, we were “in flagrante delicto,” going at it like two bunny rabbits during mating season.

We said nothing to each other as Michelle and I gloomily walked out of the fitness center with our heads hanging low. No words, no looks, nothing to acknowledge that we even know each other. There we were, no more than twenty minutes earlier screwing each other like wild dogs, pretending like we’re total strangers.

This is a sad day for both of us.

Fired. Just like that. Out of a job. Nothing can possibly make this painful awkwardness go away.
This is going to be the longest walk home EVER.

Ten minutes later, emotions still flooding through me, I had a thought. As we speak, some poor chap at the Wellford Fitness Center, probably either Robbie or Maria (two employees who regularly work there when I do), is on their knees scrubbing my semen off the floor.

My semen. My seed.

Awkwardly staining the carpet.

This thought puts a smile across my face.