Career ... Something-or-Other, Pam's Forgotten and Cheryl Never Learned It Anyway [Friday, Period 1]

[holyshitsnacks.livejournal.com]

Today when the students came to the Danger Shop, where they'd been told to meet thanks to a hastily scrawled note on the door to their normal classroom that read We're in that big mindfuck room, go there, they'd find Cheryl and Pam standing in a room that certainly looked like a TSA checkpoint. (Assuming all of you were familiar with such a thing.)

"Ugh, they found us. Pam, we have to be more vague next time."

“They have to find us, dumbass,” Pam sighed. “If we don’t teach, we don’t get paid.” She wasn’t sure that was true, but it sounded true, and it might keep Cheryl relatively motivated. “But we can be vaguer and then they’ll show up, like, real late, and it still counts.”

And the kids might just give up in frustration instead! Win-win!!!

“So for the next few weeks in … I don’t remember what I named this class, but something about Career Advice,” Pam said, super-professionally, “we’re gonna show you some careers that might, like, actually work out for you guys. Not that ‘astronaut’ and ‘firefighter’ bullshit, but things that you guys might somehow be qualified for, and won’t fuck up too badly.”

Good to know your teachers had faith in you.

"So today, we picked something anyone can do. Literally anyone. I've seen old people who don't know where they are manage this one." It wasn't confirmed, but Cheryl was sure those old ladies at the airport with their knees covered by blankets were always hiding something. "You guys are gonna practice being…drug mules!"

She actually sort of threw her hands up in the air at that, as though announcing a parade or that there was free cake.

And about now might have been when everyone noticed the balloons she had laid out on the table. Cheryl wasn't going to tell the kids to use them, but...you know. They were there.

“If those kids use those properly, we’re gonna get arrested,” Pam said. Sounding just as long-suffering as you would, if you happened to, you know, teach class with Cheryl. “So get creative. Find ways to get through the scanner, and get your luggage through. We’ve got fake-heroin here for you,” flour, in Ziploc bags, on the table -- and you knew it was fake-heroin because lol like they’d hand over the real stuff instead of using it, “but if you want to smuggle something else through, that’s fine, too, so long as it’s legitimately contraband. No telling us your hands are lethal weapons and expecting that to count.”

"And you're not smuggling it past us," Cheryl added, jerking a thumb towards the two cops that Pam someone had helpfully programmed in. "You have to get it past those guys. So if you get caught, you better either be good at sweet-talking or want to go to prison."

Except how it was fake, but shhh.

Comments

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[holyshitsnacks.livejournal.com]

Unfortunately, the Templars didn't have those big body x-rays that they made people take their shoes off for. So Anders was going to have a problem here in a moment.

"Shoes off, luggage on the conveyor belt," the other TSA agent said in a dull monotone. "Take all keys and loose change and put them in a basket. Take off any metallic items of clothing -- belts, eyeglasses, and put those in a basket, too."

It was a memorized script and they hated it. They hated this job, they hated their lives, they hated all the stupid people who wanted to get on airplanes, and they hated that conveyor belt. Feel the low-burning bureaucratic loathing!

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[not_every_mage]

Well. That put a crimp in his plans, didn't it.

Anders unbuckled his belt and dropped it in the tray, then hesitated. "I can't take these off," he said, gesturing to the boots. "It's a ... religious issue."

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[holyshitsnacks.livejournal.com]

"What kinda religion?" asked the man, suspiciously, but the blond agent from the next row down came over.

"We at the TSA respect all religions, creeds, races and faiths equally," he said, in that same dull had-to-memorize-this-shit tone. "If your religion will not allow you to go barefoot, rubber shoes can be provided. If you are not allowed to remove your boots in public, we can set up a private stall with an agent of your gender who will be discreet. We must be allowed to examine your boots for plastic explosives and wiring."

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[not_every_mage]

"That's absurd," Anders blustered. "I promise my boots don't have any plastic explosives in them, or any wiring. But I can't let strangers look inside them."

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[holyshitsnacks.livejournal.com]

"We'd need to at least X-ray them," said the blond agent. "And let the drug-sniffing dogs get near them."

"And the bomb-sniffing dogs," suggested the dark-haired man.

"Right, those too," agreed the supervisor. Dark-haired was making him look bad in front of the religious weirdo. This was going on his next performance review.

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[not_every_mage]

Anders took just a moment before realizing dogs looking for bombs and drugs probably couldn't smell flour. (He hopes not, anyhow.)

"The dogs can smell them," he offered. "And -- I don't know what an x-ray is, but the Maker might not like that, either."

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[notmysupervisor.livejournal.com]

The two agents looked at each other for a moment. The blond agent finally offered, "Fine, get over here, we're gonna let the dogs smell 'em. Got any allergies to canines? They against your religion, too?"

He didn't mean to be snarky. He was just really tired of having to compromise his job performance because weird people were coming through his airport.

Re: Assignment: Drug Mule! [5-16]

[not_every_mage]

"Dogs are fine," Anders said, pretending to weariness. He walked to where the agent indicated and braced himself.