Home, Sweet Home

Part I - Putting the "Real" in Realty

Driving around has always been a challenge for Richard, ever since he was a first time driver. Cars have always been seen as a truly epic image of being your own man, taking a sweet model out on a large freeway on a Sunday morning: wind blowing through the windows, giving the entire atmosphere a cool vibe that cemented anyone who went on such sprees instantly more likable. Richard did not expect the rosy, slick picture that the dozens of television programs when he was younger to even have one component true when applied in the real world (he could definitely dream, though), although he was expecting that the situation would be at most, half as bad as the scene that he was in today. Now here he was, standing incredibly still, with the, at best, okay, and at worst, dreadful sedan that was a hand-me-down from his parents that had been well worn over the course of the eight years that it was used by his parents. Oh, what he would give to get out of this situation, or just skip it entirely.

Richard Hudson IV, or just Rich to his friends, was, in his own point of view, a very reasonable man. He had a relatively tall and somewhat scrawny figure, with a dark beige complexion and tan hair. Generally, he considered himself a man who had dealt with a lot in his life through his personal journey to find a job for himself, which he could never really think about in his life, because, he was not interested in what the world had to offer him. He certainly was not ungrateful or edgy (at least, he wasn't any more angst-filled than any other 18-year old looking for a job who was quite apathetic to the types of work people like his somewhat embarrassing father wanted him to have. He was very sour, often not wanting to do things for other people, and not asking anything in return except when he felt like doing something for someone else. He was just a massive shut-in for people other than his friends and family, and generally sad for the better part of five years, although definitely not what anyone would declare as a mentally depressed person. As he would soon see, his life would be at least moderately changed, for better and for worse.

It was a pretty quaint building to Rich, at least what he thought. Built at the very edge of his hometown of Weastside, the building stood at a respectable two stories tall, while looking quite inviting with its prominent red color scheme, the various signage around it indicating an active workload within the place. The same could not be said for the number of buildings around the facility, though. From the boards covering up the already dinged up doorways and windows, to the paint chipping away from the general construction. The overall atmosphere and mismatched conditions of the facilities unsettled Rich slightly. Glancing away from the buildings to the right, in an attempt to get his attention away from the presumed ghost town that his new job. The flyer that persuaded to join promised a different view, with the majority of the workplace's efforts going towards many towns, sometimes miles away. Taking one last look at the various signs and notices plastered all around the windows of the facility, there it was: the "Help Wanted" note, written in the most plain way imaginable. Giving a sigh, he entered the building, with as much of a smile as he could muster. The door creaked open, playing a short tune.

Let's hope I won't screw this up, Rich thought.

==========

Tom Nook was in a bit of a pickle. His business was very clearly not going as anticipated, and he had only himself to blame. It certainly wasn't going bankrupt anytime soon, it was doing just fine, yet, it was still a disappointment. In order to make something, something, work, someone new had to be employed. Someone young. Someone who could guide the currently terribly okay business of Nook's Homes into a new period, one of success and prosperity.

"Hm, where are those hiring forms.." Nook was racking his brain, with the entire staff being occupied with the new employee. He was going to change the entire future of Nook's Homes, after all.

"Oh, right here, Mr. Nook!" Isabelle, the facility's receptionist, exclaimed, in her always excited way.

Looking over the papers once more, he reassured himself, "His name is Richard, gender is male, and he is..a human."