Rictor and a couple of nice old ladies
Jan. 17th, 2024 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsRictor goes plant shopping and comes home with a job. Thank you very much to Sam and Isa for socking!
Since coming to the States, one of Rictor's favorite places to spend time was a local nursery called Hordeculture. He did not understand the pun, but he stopped trying to make sense of it the first time he stepped inside. The variety of plants, tools, and other stock was more than he had ever seen in one place before. So he kept coming back, first once a month, now every other week. There was always something new he could use for the jungle he was growing in his room.
Today he needed materials for the makeshift greenhouse he'd built from a cheap IKEA glass cabinet: grow lights and zip-ties, small fans, a temperature and humidity monitor, and of course plants to fill it with. His parents would not be pleased about this expenditure, but he considered it a late Christmas gift to himself. Better than alcohol or in-app purchases for mobile games, he'd tell them.
"Buenos, señora," he greeted one of the old ladies who owned the store, calmly ignoring her glare as he passed by. She always looked like that. All four of the owners did.
"What?" Edith asked the boy loudly, squinting at him behind her glasses before she finally nodded. At what was anyone's guess. "Oh, cabana boy, you back for some more plants? We sell seeds, ya know, if you were looking to grow your own weed. I hear that's all kids do nowadays. That and use their phones." She looked at him skeptically. Yes, he seemed the type. "You know what I mean. Augusta, you agree."
"Come now Edith," Augusta chastised the woman without looking up from whatever paperwork she was investing her heart and soul into. "You don't think he can really grow anything, do you? He probably wants to impress some girl with how sensitive he is."
Given the only girls in his life were a cat and a pair of European lesbians many years older, Augusta could not have been more wrong. Though the idea of flowers of all things winning Sharon's, Amanda's, or Marie-Ange's favor was a funny thought. He could only imagine how they would react.
"What sort of philodendrons do you have?" he asked, dismissing their taunts. "Or maybe a monstera? Those would fit with what I am planning."
“Philodendrons, toxic, so I hope you're wearing gloves." The pointed comment was accompanied by a look, before Edith began to turn her wheelchair. One thin pointer finger was raised to gesture to where a cluster of blushing philodendrons were beside heartleaves and plowmannis. "Monsteras are better if you don't wash your hands." Not even a question while she craned her neck to take in the state of the plants they currently had on the shelves. The deliciosa were flourishing.
"What do you want plants for anyway, boy?" Augusta asked suspiciously, finally looking up to pin the young man with a suspicious glare. "Do you have any funny business planned?"
They were in a mood today, it seemed. Still, they were just old ladies taking out their senior citizen frustrations on an easy target, so he plastered a smile on his face and leaned in to examine a small heart-leaf philodendron. "What funny business could you even have with houseplants? And I'm not planning to eat it. I would have to make sure Sharon stays away, though. That's, uh, my cat," he added before they could ask. It felt weird saying that, and she would surely object to being considered anybody's, but he couldn't very well tell them about her true nature. "The pH in this soil is too high," he added. "A little ammonium sulfate in the soil would be good."
"Cats with human names, kids these days." Edith bemoaned, though her eyes narrowed at the boy's comments on the plants. She turned to Augusta sharply. "I told you. That hippy dippy girl's no good, Augusta, she can't even take care of plants. Cabana boy here knows that soil has pH levels so the excuse that she can't figure it out is bullshit and you know it."
"Well what do you want to do? Fire her and hire him? I suppose next you'll want a policy where all the boys work shirtless."
"No, he's too skinny for shirtless working." She shot back immediately. "Hmmm, I'm sure he'd be better, but is he punctual?"
"I'm not skinny," Rictor protested, reaching down to lift his shirt and show off the six-pack he worked so hard to maintain before the rational part of his brain spoke up and gently reminded him that these ladies were immune to machismo. And they were offering him a job, something he could do and would surely enjoy, so he couldn't risk screwing it up. So he pulled down his shirt instead, making a show of just adjusting it for comfort. "I'm strong, I can lift heavy things for you. And I can be punctual."
A grunt of the noncommittal variety. If Edith was impressed, she didn't let on at all, instead turning to speak to Augusta as if there were no other people in the building. "Probably stronger than the hippy, if anything. Wouldn't take nearly as long to unload shipments, we'd save money and we'd save time, which is just saving more money." Clearing her throat loudly, she finally dislodged the phlegm she swore she could feel all day. "Not like we'll lose anything,"
Augusta scoffed, waving the other woman off and going back to her paperwork. "Fine, fine. Hire whoever you want. But don't come crying to me when he doesn't show up because he's too busy smoking his marijuana stash or whatever boys do these days."
"Smoking marijuana," Edith threw up her hand, as everyone knows that's what the kids these days did. "And I'll fire him too, if he's no good. Like that's ever stopped me."
Looking back at the boy, she righted her glasses, scrunched up her face as she looked him over. "Is 7AM too early for you?"
Yes, absolutely it was. He'd have to wake up even earlier and totally rearrange his daily routine. And he would feel bad if his hiring meant someone else lost their job. On the other hand, he'd have money and access to the best botanicals in the state. He could surely arrange a deal for the mansion, too, which would make Kyle happy. And his parents would stop haranguing him to restart university if he was working. That alone might be worth the guilt and the early morning sacrifice.
"I can start at 7," he eagerly agreed, mind made up. "And I don't smoke marijuana. Or use any drugs."
"That's what they all say," Augusta said, utterly unimpressed. "But fine. You'll start next week. That should give us enough time to get rid of the hippy girl."
Rictor nearly vibrated right out of his shoes. "Gra . . . uh, thank you! You're going to love me, I promise." He picked up the philodendron pot. "Uh, can I get an employee discount for this now?"
Since coming to the States, one of Rictor's favorite places to spend time was a local nursery called Hordeculture. He did not understand the pun, but he stopped trying to make sense of it the first time he stepped inside. The variety of plants, tools, and other stock was more than he had ever seen in one place before. So he kept coming back, first once a month, now every other week. There was always something new he could use for the jungle he was growing in his room.
Today he needed materials for the makeshift greenhouse he'd built from a cheap IKEA glass cabinet: grow lights and zip-ties, small fans, a temperature and humidity monitor, and of course plants to fill it with. His parents would not be pleased about this expenditure, but he considered it a late Christmas gift to himself. Better than alcohol or in-app purchases for mobile games, he'd tell them.
"Buenos, señora," he greeted one of the old ladies who owned the store, calmly ignoring her glare as he passed by. She always looked like that. All four of the owners did.
"What?" Edith asked the boy loudly, squinting at him behind her glasses before she finally nodded. At what was anyone's guess. "Oh, cabana boy, you back for some more plants? We sell seeds, ya know, if you were looking to grow your own weed. I hear that's all kids do nowadays. That and use their phones." She looked at him skeptically. Yes, he seemed the type. "You know what I mean. Augusta, you agree."
"Come now Edith," Augusta chastised the woman without looking up from whatever paperwork she was investing her heart and soul into. "You don't think he can really grow anything, do you? He probably wants to impress some girl with how sensitive he is."
Given the only girls in his life were a cat and a pair of European lesbians many years older, Augusta could not have been more wrong. Though the idea of flowers of all things winning Sharon's, Amanda's, or Marie-Ange's favor was a funny thought. He could only imagine how they would react.
"What sort of philodendrons do you have?" he asked, dismissing their taunts. "Or maybe a monstera? Those would fit with what I am planning."
“Philodendrons, toxic, so I hope you're wearing gloves." The pointed comment was accompanied by a look, before Edith began to turn her wheelchair. One thin pointer finger was raised to gesture to where a cluster of blushing philodendrons were beside heartleaves and plowmannis. "Monsteras are better if you don't wash your hands." Not even a question while she craned her neck to take in the state of the plants they currently had on the shelves. The deliciosa were flourishing.
"What do you want plants for anyway, boy?" Augusta asked suspiciously, finally looking up to pin the young man with a suspicious glare. "Do you have any funny business planned?"
They were in a mood today, it seemed. Still, they were just old ladies taking out their senior citizen frustrations on an easy target, so he plastered a smile on his face and leaned in to examine a small heart-leaf philodendron. "What funny business could you even have with houseplants? And I'm not planning to eat it. I would have to make sure Sharon stays away, though. That's, uh, my cat," he added before they could ask. It felt weird saying that, and she would surely object to being considered anybody's, but he couldn't very well tell them about her true nature. "The pH in this soil is too high," he added. "A little ammonium sulfate in the soil would be good."
"Cats with human names, kids these days." Edith bemoaned, though her eyes narrowed at the boy's comments on the plants. She turned to Augusta sharply. "I told you. That hippy dippy girl's no good, Augusta, she can't even take care of plants. Cabana boy here knows that soil has pH levels so the excuse that she can't figure it out is bullshit and you know it."
"Well what do you want to do? Fire her and hire him? I suppose next you'll want a policy where all the boys work shirtless."
"No, he's too skinny for shirtless working." She shot back immediately. "Hmmm, I'm sure he'd be better, but is he punctual?"
"I'm not skinny," Rictor protested, reaching down to lift his shirt and show off the six-pack he worked so hard to maintain before the rational part of his brain spoke up and gently reminded him that these ladies were immune to machismo. And they were offering him a job, something he could do and would surely enjoy, so he couldn't risk screwing it up. So he pulled down his shirt instead, making a show of just adjusting it for comfort. "I'm strong, I can lift heavy things for you. And I can be punctual."
A grunt of the noncommittal variety. If Edith was impressed, she didn't let on at all, instead turning to speak to Augusta as if there were no other people in the building. "Probably stronger than the hippy, if anything. Wouldn't take nearly as long to unload shipments, we'd save money and we'd save time, which is just saving more money." Clearing her throat loudly, she finally dislodged the phlegm she swore she could feel all day. "Not like we'll lose anything,"
Augusta scoffed, waving the other woman off and going back to her paperwork. "Fine, fine. Hire whoever you want. But don't come crying to me when he doesn't show up because he's too busy smoking his marijuana stash or whatever boys do these days."
"Smoking marijuana," Edith threw up her hand, as everyone knows that's what the kids these days did. "And I'll fire him too, if he's no good. Like that's ever stopped me."
Looking back at the boy, she righted her glasses, scrunched up her face as she looked him over. "Is 7AM too early for you?"
Yes, absolutely it was. He'd have to wake up even earlier and totally rearrange his daily routine. And he would feel bad if his hiring meant someone else lost their job. On the other hand, he'd have money and access to the best botanicals in the state. He could surely arrange a deal for the mansion, too, which would make Kyle happy. And his parents would stop haranguing him to restart university if he was working. That alone might be worth the guilt and the early morning sacrifice.
"I can start at 7," he eagerly agreed, mind made up. "And I don't smoke marijuana. Or use any drugs."
"That's what they all say," Augusta said, utterly unimpressed. "But fine. You'll start next week. That should give us enough time to get rid of the hippy girl."
Rictor nearly vibrated right out of his shoes. "Gra . . . uh, thank you! You're going to love me, I promise." He picked up the philodendron pot. "Uh, can I get an employee discount for this now?"
