Episode Six « All Cleared Up
Act 1 – JAMIE and JAMES are in the kitchen at the Pizza Hutch stood in front of many prepared pizza bases and various toppings stored in open Tupperware boxes. They are putting on their work aprons before they start to take orders and make the pizzas.
JAMIE: I can’t believe we both got the job! I mean, I knew I was a shoe-in but you were a definite wildcard!
JAMES: I’m just amazed we managed to start so soon and on the same shift.
JAMIE: I know! It’s funny how things always seem to work out great for us.
JAMES: Isn’t it? Apart from those odd occasions when we’re inches away from death thanks to your Mom-Bot.
JAMIE: Well, I meant aside from that everything’s peachy.
JAMES: Peachy, isn’t that one of the pizzas?
JAMIE: Yep! I’ve been studying the preparation guide we got in the manual.
JAMES: Wow impressive.
JAMIE: So let’s get to it!
JAMES: Righty-o. One Rashmi…
JAMES looks around the kitchen with a puzzled expression on his face.
JAMES: Is that like a kebab?
JAMIE looks at the slip of paper in JAMES’ hand.
JAMIE: No, dear. That’s the line on which the name of the person who ordered it goes on and that line is the order.
JAMES: Oh! I thought this guy’s name was Calzone.
JAMIE: Ha! No worries.
JAMIE opens up some overhead cupboards to search for some utensils to help JAMES make the pizza.
JAMIE: Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You only got this job because of me and I do not mind taking the fall if you make a mistake.
JAMES: A mistake? I know I’m blonde but give me a little credit.
JAMIE: No, I wasn’t insulting you. I just meant that we can watch each others’ backs. Make sure none of the other employees try to pull one over on us newbies.
JAMES: Hey, if they want to pull something of mine you let them!
JAMIE: Oh Jamie!
JAMIE waits for JAMES’ catchphrase but he doesn’t say it. She closes the cupboard and sees a completed Calzone and another pizza base in front of JAMES.
JAMES: One Sicilian.
JAMIE: Wow, you made it.
JAMES: Yeah, it is my job.
JAMIE: Ooh, job! I love the sound of that word. Your job! My job!
JAMES: Hand-job! Blow-job! Yep, it’s a great word.
JAMES completes his pizza and calls out through the small window. One of the other employees comes in and takes the pizzas out.
JAMIE: Wow, we’re on a roll.
JAMES: Actually, I think we technically need to have three before it’s considered a roll.
JAMIE: Well let’s get going.
JAMIE stares down at the blank pizza base in front of her and bites her nails as she thinks hard about her job. Looking at her hands in disbelief, she rolls her eyes and goes over to the sink.
JAMIE: You know that’s the only downside to this job? I couldn’t put anything on my nails this morning. No varnish, no rings. And I had to wash off that L-O-V-E H-A-T-E brand I was working on.
JAMES: Oh I remember that, it took you ages.
JAMIE: I know! I’d gotten so used to it. I think I might just end up getting it tattooed.
JAMIE turns back to the preparation table and is amazed to see three completed pizzas in front of JAMES. He turns to her and smiles.
JAMES: Now we’re on a roll!
JAMIE: Wow, look at you! Are you sure you’re not half Italian or something?
JAMES: Jamie! I don’t think that’s appropriate. How would you like it if someone stereotyped you?
JAMES stares at JAMIE who is looking at him with a vacant expression on her face, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers.
JAMES: Never mind.
JAMIE: I’m sorry, but did you just call my racism into question? Excuse me for a second.
JAMIE walks out of the kitchen and leaves JAMES standing at his counter, looking clueless. A few seconds later she walks back in with a soda cup in her hands, takes a sip and sprays it out through her lips.
JAMIE: Are you kidding me? Since when did you find racism inappropriate?
JAMES rolls his eyes and grabs a towel and begins to mop up the mess.
JAMES: I just think in a place like this where there may very well be people of different cultures we should try and be a little more P-C.
JAMIE: Alright. God, you’re really taking this job seriously.
JAMES: No I’m not. It’s just, this is easy. A child of five could do it. Actually, I think that’s why we got the job so quickly!
JAMIE: Wait, are you sure you’re doing it right?
JAMES: I think so. I mean, the only other thing I’ve ever prepared was an omelette for my Mom’s breakfast on her Birthday.
JAMES: She spat it out and called it shit. But she had just turned forty and had given up smoking; I think all she was interested in eating that morning was the cigarette butts stuck to the bottom of the trash-can.
JAMIE: We better make sure just in case.
JAMIE goes to eat the latest pizza JAMES made but he slaps her hand as she reaches for it.
JAMES: You can’t eat that, it’s for the customer.
JAMIE: We’ll just make another one.
JAMES: But then we’ll have one more pizza than orders. The shift manager takes notes on stuff like that.
JAMIE: Ugh, fine! I will call and order one and then you can make it and we’ll see how it tastes.
JAMIE goes and stands by the drive-thru window to cool off from the oven heat as she holds the mobile phone to her ear. Suddenly, a car pulls up to the window and the driver starts to place an order.
CUSTOMER: Hi, can I get…
JAMIE: I’m on the phone! God, rude much?
JAMIE slides the window shut and turns around as the driver gesture’s rudely before speeding away.
JAMIE: Hello, Pizza Hutch, I would like to place an order… any kind… just give me whatever’s lying around… no, not that… or that… you know what, just make me the easiest pizza on the menu… extra cheese, how much more does that cost? …I see, well wouldn’t it just be cheaper if I ordered that? …Alright then I’ll have that… no, I don’t require delivery. I’ll be over to pick it up in about eighteen seconds… Oh forgive me; I thought you were a fast food restaurant… what are you deficient? …Well, I don’t like your tone… Screw you, asshole!
JAMIE ends the call dramatically by punching her phone and heads back over to the preparation table, which is now almost overflowing with pizzas.
JAMIE: I ordered the… Jamie! You weren’t supposed to make any more pizzas, what if they’re all crappy? I can’t do this job without you; I’ll just end up another faceless number in the percentage of work-related suicides.
JAMES: I’m sorry; I just fell into the zone.
JAMIE: Well fall out of it. Oh snap, here comes Brandon, act like you’re working.
JAMES (whisper): I was working.
BRANDON, the shift manager, comes in holding a new order. He stops to survey the newbie’s work.
BRANDON: James, killer job. You’re hands are pizza-making machines.
JAMES: You ought to see what else they can do.
JAMIE (whisper): Jamie!
JAMIE: What? I mean yes, sir?
BRANDON: You can call me Brandon. Just so long as you pick up the pace like your buddy here.
He hands her the order, which she recognises as the one she just placed.
JAMIE: A Four Cheese Pizza, and a side of Loogie Bread. I don’t remember ordering… I mean, I don’t recall reading about that in the manual.
BRANDON: Actually, let me handle this order. You two go take a bathroom break.
JAMIE and JAMES slowly begin to leave as JAMES leans in to whisper something to JAMIE.
JAMES: If he unzips his pants I’m staying!
They pause and hear
BRANDON hocking up the phlegm in the back of his throat.
JAMIE: Still staying?