(1.2) Employment Hazards

Under the guise of last minute birthday preparations, Dmitri headed down to the fishing docks as Sof’ya stayed home, probably high on childish anticipation. Last week he’d been rejected by a couple of dock bosses when asked if they could hire him. This week though, this week would be better. Both children needed this to be the week he’d be able to find work, as the baker that normally gave them food had acquired a new pet dog whose bite was the only thing worse than its mutt-face.

Wincing at the encounter yesterday with said mutt, the bite marks on his arm and leg throbbed from the cold. What’s worse is that the holes left in his pants attracted snow with each step.

Trudging up to the docks filled the young boy with hope that if today went well he could continue to trudge to the docks every day. It was all he could do to keep hope in check. Every step towards the processing warehouse caused his stomach to feel queasy. All of the men that passed by gave him looks, but those were just blank faces that didn’t matter.

Finally the door to the boss’s office was all that stood in the way. Surprisingly the uneasiness had waned from the boy’s stomach leaving only unassailable will. The door creaked only slightly when opened. Heat from the office overflowed like welcoming arms. Inside the office, seated in a well-used swivel chair sat the true test.

“Uhm, excuse me Sir I -” Being cut off midsentence shot his nerve to hell.

“Go away, no work.” The rather large boss didn’t even turn from the pile of papers strewn across the desk.

With a somewhat shakier voice Dmitri tried to protest. “S-Sir, please… I…”

The man’s anger was obvious in his voice. “I don’t hire defs, which you seem to be since you’re not gone yet.” Still the man had not lost his concentration on what were probably cargo ledgers or exports.

“If you’re busy I could always come back -” This man had a splendid ability with interruptions.

Did you know that heavy set men can move quicker than you think? Dmitri knew that now. The boss went from sitting behind a desk, crossing the room, and gripping the youth by the collar before the chair rolled into the wall. Easily overpowered, the child was lifted off the floor and shoved away. Little Dmitri was quick and grabbed the side of the door frame. Unfortunately the momentum of the throw landed him on the ground, still holding to the frame.

“Don’t you take a hint boy?” This man had really nice boots, and he was a kind man, he shared those boots with the boy’s hands. A couple of times, very generous.

Curling himself into a ball and trying to hold back tears that choked on the way out the boy would not release himself from the door. With each pummel he thought only on Sof’ya and his obligation to look after her, even when his hands grew numb and the blows switched over to his ribs. The face of his sister was all he focused on, save the white spots when a blow struck the back of his head.

For you.

It wasn’t hate that filled him, only the unshakeable need to overcome this momentary pain. Only when the blows stopped coming and he could control the quivering of his jaw did Dmitri speak up again.

“…Please sir…”

“Dammit boy, get out of here.”

Dmitri tensed up, preparing to be struck again. After a few seconds of nothing happening, his now-tear-clouded gaze found that the boss had picked up the chair and was back to overlooking his reports. Without letting go of the door frame he looked around, not knowing what to do. Afraid that if he spoke up it would only anger the man further. So he waited, which wouldn’t have been so bad had the feeling not returned to his fingers.

Even when the occasional warehouse worker stopped in to talk with the boss Dmitri remained curled around the entrance. After about an hour the boss finally got up from his desk, tapping a stack of ledgers into a neat bundle, and went over to the boy.

“Get off the door,” he started, “If you’re going to insist on being here you might as well be productive.” The man actually helped him up from the floor. “Talk with Ivan at the processing station after you get cleaned up. Tell him I sent you. Now get lost.”

The child’s eyes lit up. “Thank you sir!” With that he was off.

It didn’t take long to find the processing station, which consisted of two conveyor belts that fish were unloaded onto and then cut and cleaned by the workers on the line. After a perplexed conversation with Ivan, it was time to get to work. Learning how to clean and prep the fish was easy, and the boy was eager to learn.

Sof’ya will be so happy, oh… Fuck.