That's My Spotlight | ✔

iv. get a job

IF THERE WAS a ranking system of having the ability to convince others, Alexander would fall directly in the middle. Convincing people to do something wasn't a natural gift of his, but he wasn't too bad at it either. He was impartial with it, kind of like Goldilocks. He wasn't good, but he wasn't bad. He was just right.

Alexander and his father were stationed at the quaint, rectangular wooden table stationed at the side of their kitchen. Like his father, Alexander had a hot mug of fresh-brewed coffee laced around his fingers. The boy figured that he had to bring up the idea of his father paying for his Choral dues. As the days approached, so did the day of the choir's first performance. Dr. Terry's words couldn't help but haunt his brain.

If he didn't pay for the dues, he wouldn't be allowed to participate in their upcoming performances.

It would all be good work and practice for nothing. But that wasn't the point. Alexander enjoyed singing with the choir. It made him feel content on the inside. It gave him joy, which he hadn't felt in a long time. Choir was his everything, and he couldn't afford to take it all away from himself.

Alexander gaped at his mug of coffee, which he barely drank from. The misty steam hit his face additionally as he continued to gaze at it. Telling his dad about paying for the dues was a now or never situation. It's not that it was too late to pay for the dues — it really wasn't. But if he kept on reliving moments like these, his father would never know to fund his son and the choir. All the bad outcomes that came after that sequenced in Alexander's head over and over.

So, he cleared his throat.

"Dad, there's something I need to talk to you about," Alexander announced as he pushed his coffee away from him. The vapor on the steam was beginning to accumulate on his face, causing him to break a few sweats. It was only six-thirty in the morning, a half hour before school would begin. Because of this, he already knew that this would be a long conversation about finances.

"What is it, son?" His father, Jason, questioned as he typed a sequence of words onto his laptop specialized for work.

"It's . . . Well, you know how I'm in Chorus? For the past three years, you had to pay for my dues so I could participate in performances and events," Alexander backtracked as his face lightened up. "This year, I have to do it again and it's for eighty dollars. Can you please pay for it?"

"Eighty dollars?" Jason choked after a sip of his coffee. He set his mug down in a panic before it would potentially end up on the floor from shock and disbelief. "That's how much we spend on weekly groceries sometimes. There's no way I can pay for that. I'm very sorry, son, I really am."

"Please, c'mon. If you don't pay for it, I won't be able to participate in our first performance — or any performance for that matter. You know how much this means to me," Alexander begged his father. "I'll do all the chores I possibly can from this point on. I'll even do your laundry."

"Alexander, this has nothing to do with chores. I'm very short on money, you know that," his father reasoned as he shook his head. "Everything I pay for has to be absolutely needed, and this isn't right now. If you need the money so badly, you're going to have to get a job and pay for it on your own. I'll get you a debit card if that's the case, but you're old enough to get a quick, easy job, anyway."

There was nothing Alexander could say to that. He was seventeen, so he could easily get a job at a grocery store or fast food restaurant. Getting a job wouldn't be much of a problem in his eyes. The problem would be getting enough money to pay for his dues on time. Dr. Terry didn't say an exact date to which the paywall would close, but based on how soon their first concert would be, it would occur shortly. Who knows? It could be next week, or the week after. Somewhere in between that time frame, for sure.