TALES FROM THE DRYER
Episode III

It was just another day for Steve. He woke up like he always did, went to school, like he always did, spent most of the day writing poetry in his notebooks and the rest flirting with girls. He knew the poetry was bad. He knew the girls would never go out with him. But Steve was bored.

Steve wasn't dumb. He just hated school. And as a result he barely got by in all of his classes. He could have passed everything with flying colors. But he just didn't want to work that hard. He wasn't lazy. Well, okay he was a little lazy. But it was more about the previously mentioned boredom than any kind of laziness.

These were not thoughts that Steve ever coherently focused upon in any conscious way or verbalized. It was more an instinctive gut feeling. He knew he could do more. But he refused. Why? Because he had a vague dread of where it would all lead. And the life it led to was not something of which he wanted to be a part. He had other ideas. He had other dreams. Those ideas and dreams did not include getting a college degree and sitting behind a desk everyday, being a slave to the clock, getting stuck in traffic. The "daily grind" as his mother called it. It sounded way too ominous. Way too real. Way too boring. Business suits. Afternoon meetings. Even if he were the President, it would be, in his mind, nothing more than a glorified desk job, with too much pressure and too much responsibility.

Not that Steve didn't care about some things. There was one thing he greatly cared for, a thing -- that idea, that dream -- for which he would slave over, be subject to, the servant of, all day every day if necessary. It was the only thing he truly wanted to learn about and be successful at. And it didn't involved punching a clock or working on reports for some faceless client.

So Steve continued to coast through school. His parents complained. His teachers pleaded. All to no avail. They knew he would be destined for greatness if only he would "apply himself". Steve knew as well that he was destined for greatness. But his idea of greatness was not the same as theirs.

Although Steve hated the idea of becoming a slave to the "daily grind" he understood the necessity of paying dues to get to where he really wanted to be. Plus, his mother made him. She felt it would instill the values of hard work and the understanding of what the "real world" would be like. It only had the opposite effect, and Steve learned to hate work even more.

And so it was that Steve, after school that day, which was just like any other day, went to his part-time job. He hated it of course. But he viewed it as a stepping stone. It was a roadside stop on the journey to where he really wanted to be and nothing more.

Steve was standing by the time clock, preparing another night of work when a pretty brunette walked into the room, which was actually the breakroom.

"Hey, Steve", she smiled.

"Hey, Wendi", he answered flatly, clocking in and sighing.

"We got a new guy starting tonight", she continued. "I wonder if it's anyone we know from school."

"What's his name?" asked Steve, suddenly interested.

"I think Rob said it was something like, um... Shawn? No... It begins with an 'S'.""Hm", mumbled Steve thoughtfully, trying to think who he knew from school with an "S" name."Oh!" Wendi interjected. "I know, I know -- Seth, that's it. His name is Seth."