I Want To Dream Now

Chapter 1

"Robin. Why Robin?"

It is the same as any other day, he thinks. Only this time, it is the Summer Sales. His employer often calls this period "The wicked world for workers."

Money though. Money is important too.

"My parents used to have a bird called Robin," he explains dully to another annoyingly curious customer.

"A robin?"

"Yes...," he confirms, his tone of voice growing more monotonous by the second. "A robin would always visit them because they gave him bread during a very cold winter. So voile."

"Sorry," the beach blonde woman blurts out, shoving a dark-pink, glossy blouse in his face. "How much does this cost?"

Robin sighs. The Summer Sales. Always a delight.

Every customer is the same, well 90% of them. He doesn't mind so much the older generation asking questions, but the younger folks really need to have more sense.

His name, that's all it is, a bloody name. Why wear a name tag at all?

"I need a coffee really badly," he says to Gwen, a colleague of his in the populr fashion store. According to Robin, she is always impeccably dressed. Today, she wears a long yellow shirt that flows so silkily to his knees. It is a very nice combination with her soft, curly strawberry blonde locks.

She works at the till, while Robin works the floor.

"I thought you gave up drinking coffee a while ago."

"I did," he admits biting his upper lip rather aggressively. "But that was when my wife was pregnant."

Gwen chuckles. "You mean, when she became pregnant. Which was, I think, 7 months ago, right?"

"Yeah," Robin nods, half-laughing. "But I think she would understand if I broke our little promise, wouldn't she?"

"Meeh," Gwen shrugs. "Nina is not a very forgiving women though."

"I work hard. Give me a fucking break," Robin breaks down, exhaling a huge puff of carbon dioxide. "It is different. You probably don't deal with half as many customers as me."

"Hey bro," she says, pushing her palms into his face. "My job stinks too."

"My is a whole hell smellier though. At least you're only dealing with people that have actually decided on something. I have to actually help people decide. You deal with such low numbers of customers because of me."

"Yes, yes," she replies, but then shakes her head. "But—little Robin, you're forgetting about those whom yell shit at you because you won't accept something they want to return because they lost their fucking receipt."

"We need to be paid more money for this shit."

"Ooh yeah," she says. She bangs the register shut. Robin always loved that high, tinny sound. She glances up and whispers with alarmed eyes that "Manager Speck is coming."

"Good day, Mr Spielberg," the two employees greet with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Flood, Burke, what's happening here? I've had to deal with a bunch of complaints of bad service. We don't have the money to lose valuable customers because of incompetent staff."

"Sorry sir," apologises Gwen. "Won't happen again."

Robin remains silent.

"Flood? What about you?"

He sighs. "Yeah, no trouble from me either. Got it."

Their manager nods, quickly scanning the checkouts to make sure everything is in order.

"Everything seems to be fairly up to scratch up here. C'mon Flood, off you go now. I met a fairly frantic women on my way in gushing about some cosmetic that hides eyebrow hairs. Will you go suss that out please?"

Robin nods, not letting loose another word. He offers his female colleague a bleak smile and heads back to havoc.

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