Title: A Weird Way To Have Some Fun
Featuring: The Masked Dollar
Date: March 8, 2010
Location: Costco Hiring Event
The sun is shining as it usually does in Florida, and it’s the perfect day for a little sight seeing. As The Masked Dollar’s rental car flies down the busy street, Willy Caribou sits in the passenger seat, turning his head wildly to catch a glimpse of all the beautiful women, and fancy looking buildings. However, as TMD, who seems to be in a bit of a hurry, weaves in and out of traffic, Willy can’t help but think that there is more to the day’s car ride than sight seeing.
"Hey man," Willy shouts as he holds on for dear life, "You mind slowing down a bit, I can’t really see any of the sights!"
The tires squeal as TMD pulls out and passes a large tractor-trailer that is going a little too slow for his liking. "Sorry Willy, but there’s something I have to do before we hit the town." Willy just looks over at TMD with the usual ‘here we go again’ expression plastered on his face.
Suddenly, The Masked Dollar cuts the wheel hard to the left, crosses in front of a wall of traffic, and speeds into a half-filled parking lot. Wasting little time, he searches out a parking space near the large building for which the parking lot was built, and screeches to a halt. "Just gimme one minute, Willy. I’ll be right back," TMD assures him as he grabs a manila envelop from the backseat, and dashes out of the car.
TMD sprints across the parking lot, and makes his way into the building, leaving Willy in the car to listen to the radio. Not even five seconds later, a bead of sweat rolls down Willy’s forehead as the car starts getting warmer and warmer.
Inside the building, The Masked Dollar finds a long line of people, criss-crossing back and forth across the room in what looks like a line-up at a bank. He calmly walks over to the back of the line, straightening out his shirt, and patting out the creases in his pants. The line doesn’t seem to be moving at all, and the general expression displayed on the faces of most everyone in front of him in line, is one of impatience and annoyance.
"Come on, come on…" TMD mutters under his breath, aware that leaving Willy in the car for too long might be bad for his friend’s health. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a man exiting the bathroom, which gives him an idea. Clinching his legs together, and gritting his teeth, he makes his way around the outside of the marked off line, and approaches the person manning the front of the line. "Excuse me, could you point me towards the bathroom?" TMD asks in mock pain.
As soon as the attendant turns to point him in the right direction, TMD swipes a piece of paper from the podium where the attendant is standing, and hides it underneath his shirt. "Thanks!" he shouts to the attendant, as he runs to the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom, he immediately sits down in one of the stall, and takes out the piece of paper.
COSTCO APPLICATION FORM
"Damn I’m smart…" he mutters to himself as he hauls out a pen and begins filling out the application. It only takes a few minutes to fill everything out completely, albeit messily. He exits the stall, tucking the paper back under his shirt, and smoothing out his clothes once again before leaving the bathroom to return to the line up. However, as he passes the attendant at the front of the line, he waits until no one is looking, and scoots over to where a group of people are sitting, already having their applications filled out, and waiting to be called in for an interview.
"Number 613… 6-1-3!" shouts the event coordinator.
TMD looks down at his paper and smiles. In the top right corner, the number 613 is written out in blue pen. He looks across the table at a nervous looking fellow, "I guess that’s me…" says TMD as he stands up and makes his way over to the interview area. The same attendant that showed him to the bathroom is there to point out where his interview will be taking place.
"It’s just down this hall, last table on your…" his voice trails off in mid sentence, "Hey… aren’t you that guy…"
"Sorry pal, must be mistaken…" TMD blurts out as he walks away.
"But that mask… looks awfully familiar…" mumbles the attendant, as he scratches his head.
Down in the interview area, The Masked Dollar finds his designated table, and sits down across from two stern looking ladies. His eyes twitch as he looks back and forth between the two of them, and their cold, judging eyes staring back at him.
"Alright Mister… Dollar, is it?" the first lady asks.
"Yes… The Masked Dollar," TMD replies as politely as possible, "but you can call me Dollar."
"Well, that’s certainly a different name, isn’t it?" the second lady comments in a snarky manner.
"Well, I was named after my father…" TMD says with a half-hearted chuckle.
"Mmmmright…" the snarky interviewers retorts. "Okay, Dollar… why do you want to leave your current employer?"
It takes no time for TMD to think up an answer, as he has prepared for moments like this, "Well, I get no respect… the hours are crumby… and it seems as though all my coworkers are either jealous of me, or they just plain don’t like me."
Suddenly, the other interviewer cuts in with a rapid-fire follow up question, "What kinds of problems do you have with your co-workers?"
No stranger to the interview scenario, TMD is quick on the draw with one of many examples he has locked away in the back of his mind. "There’s this one guy at work… we’ll call him, Chris. Well, this Chris fellow has been out to get me since day one, as we were both hired around the same time. I don’t what it is about him, maybe he sees me as a threat, or he’s just jealous of my outstanding work ethic. Either way, for the past several weeks, he’s done all he can to knock me down a few pegs. However, having the skills and talents that I do, I’ve been able to maintain a perfect work record."
The two interviewers glance at each other, nodding in approval. "So how do you deal with situations like that?" one of them inquires.
"Well, I do what I have to," TMD replies calmly. "I do everything from trying to reason with the fellow, to choking him out with a baseball bat." The two women stare at The Masked Dollar, absolutely mortified.
"You… you, what?" one of them stammers.
"Yeah… just last week I beat him down, and finished him off by choking him with a baseball bat," TMD explains to the startled women. "It was actually quite effective, and I don’t see there being much more trouble coming from him."
"Well, that’s highly unethical," one woman sputters.
"And not to mention, highly illegal!" remarks the other.
"Ladies, please…" TMD replies, trying to calm them down, "It’s all a part of the job. And, I think it goes to show just how far I’m willing to go to get the job done."
Shaking with fear, the two interviewers stare at each other for a moment, too afraid to speak. But letting the explanation sink in for a few moments, they finally calm down. "Yeah, that is true… you must be a very hard worker, indeed," comments the lead interviewer. "Now, are there any special qualities that you can bring to Costco, to help the store?"
"Are you kidding me?" says The Masked Dollar in astonishment. "I’ll have you know, that I am one hell of a salesman. I could sell ice to an Eskimo. And not to mention, I always make sure the customer gets what they want. Take this week for example. There is this one person I work with, lets call him, Steele… just last week Steele was awarded one of my company’s top prizes, and ever since, he’s been walking around like he’s the cock of the walk. He thinks he’s above the customers… he thinks he’s above everyone. Of course, management loves the guy, and no matter what he does, he won’t ever get reprimanded. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to ensure that my company’s customers are satisfied. I’m going to show that asshole, and all those customers exactly why I’m more deserving to hold that esteemed award."
Again, the interviewers look at each other, baffled by what is being said. "I… I’m sorry, Mr. Dollar…" one of them blurts out, "But I don’t think Costco is the right place for you. You seem very dedicated and all, but you’re just not what we’re looking for. You’re just… I don’t know…"
"To aggressive!" the other interviewer finishes the sentence.
TMD chuckles to himself, as if knowing that this was coming all along. "Don’t worry ladies, I’m not offended, and I understand your concerns," he assures them, "As a matter of fact, I was just doing this for a laugh anyway. I see these job fairs all over town, and sometimes I just can’t help myself. I hope you understand. I just wanted to see if the business world was truly ready for someone like me, and it seems it is not. So I’ll stick with my current job. Besides, I’m up for a big promotion this week anyway. I’m going to become the Slaughter TV Champion."
"Who the fuck are you?" the interviewers shout in unison.
TMD cocks his head back, confused by their question. "Didn’t you just hear what I said? I’m The Masked Dollar, and I’m going to be DREAM Wrestling’s new TV Champion!"
The interviewers have had enough and whistle for security. A group of black shirts come hustling over to the table, but TMD sees them coming and bolts for the door. The security guards give chase, but TMD is too quick for them, and is already in his car.
The engine revs, and the tires squeal as the rental car flies out of the parking lot. As TMD looks in the rear view mirror, at the angered security guards, a snort from the passenger seat snaps him back to reality.
"What’s going on?" Willy Caribou says with a yawn, as he wakes up from his impromptu nap.
"We’re going sight seeing, Willy," TMD replies, a sly smirk hidden beneath his mask.
"You mind telling me what that was all about?" asks Willy.
"Naw… it was nothing," says TMD, "I was just curious."
"Whatever…" Willy says, falling back to sleep. "Wake me up when we get there."
Featuring: The Masked Dollar
Date: March 8, 2010
Location: Costco Hiring Event
The sun is shining as it usually does in Florida, and it’s the perfect day for a little sight seeing. As The Masked Dollar’s rental car flies down the busy street, Willy Caribou sits in the passenger seat, turning his head wildly to catch a glimpse of all the beautiful women, and fancy looking buildings. However, as TMD, who seems to be in a bit of a hurry, weaves in and out of traffic, Willy can’t help but think that there is more to the day’s car ride than sight seeing.
"Hey man," Willy shouts as he holds on for dear life, "You mind slowing down a bit, I can’t really see any of the sights!"
The tires squeal as TMD pulls out and passes a large tractor-trailer that is going a little too slow for his liking. "Sorry Willy, but there’s something I have to do before we hit the town." Willy just looks over at TMD with the usual ‘here we go again’ expression plastered on his face.
Suddenly, The Masked Dollar cuts the wheel hard to the left, crosses in front of a wall of traffic, and speeds into a half-filled parking lot. Wasting little time, he searches out a parking space near the large building for which the parking lot was built, and screeches to a halt. "Just gimme one minute, Willy. I’ll be right back," TMD assures him as he grabs a manila envelop from the backseat, and dashes out of the car.
TMD sprints across the parking lot, and makes his way into the building, leaving Willy in the car to listen to the radio. Not even five seconds later, a bead of sweat rolls down Willy’s forehead as the car starts getting warmer and warmer.
Inside the building, The Masked Dollar finds a long line of people, criss-crossing back and forth across the room in what looks like a line-up at a bank. He calmly walks over to the back of the line, straightening out his shirt, and patting out the creases in his pants. The line doesn’t seem to be moving at all, and the general expression displayed on the faces of most everyone in front of him in line, is one of impatience and annoyance.
"Come on, come on…" TMD mutters under his breath, aware that leaving Willy in the car for too long might be bad for his friend’s health. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a man exiting the bathroom, which gives him an idea. Clinching his legs together, and gritting his teeth, he makes his way around the outside of the marked off line, and approaches the person manning the front of the line. "Excuse me, could you point me towards the bathroom?" TMD asks in mock pain.
As soon as the attendant turns to point him in the right direction, TMD swipes a piece of paper from the podium where the attendant is standing, and hides it underneath his shirt. "Thanks!" he shouts to the attendant, as he runs to the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom, he immediately sits down in one of the stall, and takes out the piece of paper.
COSTCO APPLICATION FORM
"Damn I’m smart…" he mutters to himself as he hauls out a pen and begins filling out the application. It only takes a few minutes to fill everything out completely, albeit messily. He exits the stall, tucking the paper back under his shirt, and smoothing out his clothes once again before leaving the bathroom to return to the line up. However, as he passes the attendant at the front of the line, he waits until no one is looking, and scoots over to where a group of people are sitting, already having their applications filled out, and waiting to be called in for an interview.
"Number 613… 6-1-3!" shouts the event coordinator.
TMD looks down at his paper and smiles. In the top right corner, the number 613 is written out in blue pen. He looks across the table at a nervous looking fellow, "I guess that’s me…" says TMD as he stands up and makes his way over to the interview area. The same attendant that showed him to the bathroom is there to point out where his interview will be taking place.
"It’s just down this hall, last table on your…" his voice trails off in mid sentence, "Hey… aren’t you that guy…"
"Sorry pal, must be mistaken…" TMD blurts out as he walks away.
"But that mask… looks awfully familiar…" mumbles the attendant, as he scratches his head.
Down in the interview area, The Masked Dollar finds his designated table, and sits down across from two stern looking ladies. His eyes twitch as he looks back and forth between the two of them, and their cold, judging eyes staring back at him.
"Alright Mister… Dollar, is it?" the first lady asks.
"Yes… The Masked Dollar," TMD replies as politely as possible, "but you can call me Dollar."
"Well, that’s certainly a different name, isn’t it?" the second lady comments in a snarky manner.
"Well, I was named after my father…" TMD says with a half-hearted chuckle.
"Mmmmright…" the snarky interviewers retorts. "Okay, Dollar… why do you want to leave your current employer?"
It takes no time for TMD to think up an answer, as he has prepared for moments like this, "Well, I get no respect… the hours are crumby… and it seems as though all my coworkers are either jealous of me, or they just plain don’t like me."
Suddenly, the other interviewer cuts in with a rapid-fire follow up question, "What kinds of problems do you have with your co-workers?"
No stranger to the interview scenario, TMD is quick on the draw with one of many examples he has locked away in the back of his mind. "There’s this one guy at work… we’ll call him, Chris. Well, this Chris fellow has been out to get me since day one, as we were both hired around the same time. I don’t what it is about him, maybe he sees me as a threat, or he’s just jealous of my outstanding work ethic. Either way, for the past several weeks, he’s done all he can to knock me down a few pegs. However, having the skills and talents that I do, I’ve been able to maintain a perfect work record."
The two interviewers glance at each other, nodding in approval. "So how do you deal with situations like that?" one of them inquires.
"Well, I do what I have to," TMD replies calmly. "I do everything from trying to reason with the fellow, to choking him out with a baseball bat." The two women stare at The Masked Dollar, absolutely mortified.
"You… you, what?" one of them stammers.
"Yeah… just last week I beat him down, and finished him off by choking him with a baseball bat," TMD explains to the startled women. "It was actually quite effective, and I don’t see there being much more trouble coming from him."
"Well, that’s highly unethical," one woman sputters.
"And not to mention, highly illegal!" remarks the other.
"Ladies, please…" TMD replies, trying to calm them down, "It’s all a part of the job. And, I think it goes to show just how far I’m willing to go to get the job done."
Shaking with fear, the two interviewers stare at each other for a moment, too afraid to speak. But letting the explanation sink in for a few moments, they finally calm down. "Yeah, that is true… you must be a very hard worker, indeed," comments the lead interviewer. "Now, are there any special qualities that you can bring to Costco, to help the store?"
"Are you kidding me?" says The Masked Dollar in astonishment. "I’ll have you know, that I am one hell of a salesman. I could sell ice to an Eskimo. And not to mention, I always make sure the customer gets what they want. Take this week for example. There is this one person I work with, lets call him, Steele… just last week Steele was awarded one of my company’s top prizes, and ever since, he’s been walking around like he’s the cock of the walk. He thinks he’s above the customers… he thinks he’s above everyone. Of course, management loves the guy, and no matter what he does, he won’t ever get reprimanded. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to ensure that my company’s customers are satisfied. I’m going to show that asshole, and all those customers exactly why I’m more deserving to hold that esteemed award."
Again, the interviewers look at each other, baffled by what is being said. "I… I’m sorry, Mr. Dollar…" one of them blurts out, "But I don’t think Costco is the right place for you. You seem very dedicated and all, but you’re just not what we’re looking for. You’re just… I don’t know…"
"To aggressive!" the other interviewer finishes the sentence.
TMD chuckles to himself, as if knowing that this was coming all along. "Don’t worry ladies, I’m not offended, and I understand your concerns," he assures them, "As a matter of fact, I was just doing this for a laugh anyway. I see these job fairs all over town, and sometimes I just can’t help myself. I hope you understand. I just wanted to see if the business world was truly ready for someone like me, and it seems it is not. So I’ll stick with my current job. Besides, I’m up for a big promotion this week anyway. I’m going to become the Slaughter TV Champion."
"Who the fuck are you?" the interviewers shout in unison.
TMD cocks his head back, confused by their question. "Didn’t you just hear what I said? I’m The Masked Dollar, and I’m going to be DREAM Wrestling’s new TV Champion!"
The interviewers have had enough and whistle for security. A group of black shirts come hustling over to the table, but TMD sees them coming and bolts for the door. The security guards give chase, but TMD is too quick for them, and is already in his car.
The engine revs, and the tires squeal as the rental car flies out of the parking lot. As TMD looks in the rear view mirror, at the angered security guards, a snort from the passenger seat snaps him back to reality.
"What’s going on?" Willy Caribou says with a yawn, as he wakes up from his impromptu nap.
"We’re going sight seeing, Willy," TMD replies, a sly smirk hidden beneath his mask.
"You mind telling me what that was all about?" asks Willy.
"Naw… it was nothing," says TMD, "I was just curious."
"Whatever…" Willy says, falling back to sleep. "Wake me up when we get there."
