The next day, Righty was at work a few minutes before 9 a.m., when his shift began. He felt a load on his shoulders that he knew would either squash him or just slip right off and vaporize into nothing once he came in contact with Rog and gauged his reaction.
“Morning, Richie.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“I can’t thank you enough for making that trip for me. I just didn’t like the idea of having contraband sitting in my store, even if it was legal when I ordered it and the criminal penalties haven’t kicked in yet. I’ve done some reading, and apparently in the capital there have been gangs of wild addicts crazy over this stuff who have gone looting stores left and right in search of it. I haven’t heard of anything like that happening around here by any means, but it’s awful popular.
“Jimmy tells me this stuff was the answer to his prayers because there hasn’t been a dull night at his saloon since the first time someone brought it in there. Apparently, it makes people a little more generous with their money, and so that suits Jimmy just fine! Anyway, who knows what’s gonna happen now that it’s illegal. But I didn’t want word to get around that there were enough seeds to plant an entire farm over at Roger’s Grocery Store! Ha!” He laughed good-naturedly.
“Anyway, thanks to you, that stuff is long gone, and it’s Mr. Hoffmeyer’s problem. I just hope those gangs of yahoos don’t find out he’s got it, or he’ll have to hire a small army to defend it! Hahahaa!”
Righty smiled, and to his surprise it felt natural. After all, this was somewhat amusing to him, and he certainly felt glad about the burden that had just slid off his shoulders.
“Richie, you’re a damn hard worker, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and I know I can count on you in a pinch. How about we make a little adjustment in your hourly wage? Say . . . twelve falons an hour?”
“Thank you, sir!” Righty said. It sounded warm, and he looked thrilled. But in reality he was a bit conflicted.
“Well, I’ll let you get to your tasks. I’ll go ahead and make that bump retroactive to the beginning of the week and will also pay you for twenty-four hours for your trip. Sound fair?”
“Yes, sir!” Righty responded happily.
He was thrilled when Rog left him alone because once he had a conflict in his head he couldn’t enjoy anything until he had delved deeply into it. Fortunately, he could do that and his job.
As he started stocking the shelves vigorously, his mind was working just as hard. He felt guilty because he’d just stolen a significant amount of merchandise from the man who had now given him a generous raise, and furthermore he had gone with the flow when Mr. Hoffmeyer started spouting his theories as to what really happened, and as a result he had implicated Mr. Wilson as a dealer in contraband, when in reality Rog was a straight-laced man who’d never even dream of doing what Mr. Hoffmeyer speculated he had done.
Hopefully, none of this would ever come back to harm Rog, but even the thought of it discomforted him considerably. Then, there was the issue of this raise. Part of him felt like it was a message from above that he could make a future for himself by doing things the right way and not looking for shortcuts and—
SHUT UP, YOU COWARD!!!!
The suddenness and the fury of the voice inside him shocked him almost senseless. He paused at the shelf he was working on for a moment before beginning to once again quickly and efficiently stock the shelves with a face that suggested all was calm on the inside.
But all was not calm on the inside. A savage fury had been unleashed. One he hadn’t experienced at anywhere near this intensity since his boxing days.
You weren’t meant for jumping up and down with joy for the peanuts people offer you!! You’re meant for more . . . much more—for greatness!! You’ll seal your place in the Seleganian history books for better or for worse!
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the anger was gone. He felt calm. The anger had assuaged the guilt he momentarily had felt, and now he came to a much deeper philosophical understanding of what had truly just transpired. The universe was rewarding him. It had seen him show he had a spine and was not afraid to take things into his own hands, and that piddling little raise he had just gotten shouldn’t make him feel guilty but rather vindicated about his actions. He felt certain that had he returned the merchandise, he wouldn’t have even gotten a raise at all.
By taking the seeds, he had set in motion a different destiny for his so-far miserable life because before he was playing by the rules. Now, he was playing by his rules. And his rule book said to get rich.