The New Hire

Norm had no idea why the men had thought his straightforward question humorous, but he didn't care. It was enough that they'd finally deigned to talk to him. "Do me a favor, guys," Norm called to his passengers.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Call me 'Norm.'"

"You got it, Norm," Ben wheezed, red-faced from chuckling.

The laughter started again, and Norm wondered what had been so humorous about his asking whether Bobbie was a prude.

Norm drove the van through steeper terrain. On either side of the interstate highway, the pines thickened, and their shadows darkened the roadway. The slight chill in the air became colder, and Sam asked that the heater be turned on. The other passengers objected to his request, so, once again, Norm was caught between their conflicting desires. He recalled the interviewer's insistence that he satisfy his passengers' every wish. The fucker hadn't told Norm that their wishes seldom ever seemed to mesh. Why couldn't the fuckers just kick back and enjoy the scenery? The tall, snowy peaks of the blue mountains were beautiful, as was the thick forest of evergreens. They were driving through some of the most beautiful countryside in the world, and all they could think of to do was to bitch about whether to turn on the van's heater.

"You going to turn the heater on or not?" Sam demanded.

"We don't need no fucking heater blasting our asses," Ed declared.

"We can live without it," Ben agreed.

"Why don't we let Bobbie decide?" Norm suggested. "I'll be picking her up in about ten minutes."

They considered Norm's proposal. He figured they'd reject it, without consideration, but the burly bastards surprised the driver by agreeing to the idea.

"Bobbie will want heat," Sam predicted. He wore a smug smile, as if her decision had already vindicated his request that the van's heater be activated.

"I'll give her all the heat she can stand," Ben returned, "and I don't need any fucking machine to help me provide it."