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king_garyGary never actually heard those two particular words this time. No-one told him he was fired, or even that he'd been let go. He didn't even get so much as a 'get out'.
He needs the job. That much is not debatable. He needs the money. He's been going from dole queue to supermarket and garage and back again ever since he stole that £200 from his mum, got into the Beast, and hightailed it the hell out of Bournemouth. Which was all well and good, because Bournemouth was a bit shit anyway. Who needs it? But £200 only goes so far, and the Beast is not a comfortable place to live. It smells of burning motor oil and stale cigarettes, and it even gets to Gary after long enough.
Gary knows better than to do half of the things he does, but he can't seem to help it. Just like he knew better than to try to cheat his dealer back in Bournemouth. And he knew better than to leave his stash out where his mum could find it. And he definitely knew better than to go into Somerfield's to start his shift whilst still drunk. And he really knew better than to light up twenty minutes into his shift. When Patrick found him behind the supermarket with a spliff in his hand, Gary expected red faces and shouting. Instead, Patrick just turned around and went back inside, as if he'd known better than to hire Gary in the first place, and now some tiny little man on his shoulder was giving him a thousand 'I told you so's.' He didn't have to say a word, but Gary knew he'd been sacked anyway. The security guards that came round to find him five minutes later only served to drive the point home.
He needs the job. That much is not debatable. He needs the money. He's been going from dole queue to supermarket and garage and back again ever since he stole that £200 from his mum, got into the Beast, and hightailed it the hell out of Bournemouth. Which was all well and good, because Bournemouth was a bit shit anyway. Who needs it? But £200 only goes so far, and the Beast is not a comfortable place to live. It smells of burning motor oil and stale cigarettes, and it even gets to Gary after long enough.
Gary knows better than to do half of the things he does, but he can't seem to help it. Just like he knew better than to try to cheat his dealer back in Bournemouth. And he knew better than to leave his stash out where his mum could find it. And he definitely knew better than to go into Somerfield's to start his shift whilst still drunk. And he really knew better than to light up twenty minutes into his shift. When Patrick found him behind the supermarket with a spliff in his hand, Gary expected red faces and shouting. Instead, Patrick just turned around and went back inside, as if he'd known better than to hire Gary in the first place, and now some tiny little man on his shoulder was giving him a thousand 'I told you so's.' He didn't have to say a word, but Gary knew he'd been sacked anyway. The security guards that came round to find him five minutes later only served to drive the point home.