Franchise

The scene is a franchise shop that sells large, sub-style sandwiches. There is an EMPLOYEE that works behind the counter. The EMPLOYEE is a bitter, angry younger person, who clearly hates their line of work, and probably never aspired to be a ‘sandwich artist’. They are clad in the franchise’s uniform.

Enter JACKSON. JACKSON is dressed for his work day, and seems utterly pleased to be alive. He strides into the shop, and walks up to the counter directly.

JACKSON:
I’ll have a roast beef half-sandwich, please.

EMPLOYEE:
(Taking a second to respond, he slowly meanders away from the sandwich bar, and approaches the cash register. He speaks into the microphone and his voice resounds through a tin speaker)

RABEE HAFFSAMMY.

(The EMPLOYEE walks back over to the sandwich bar, and begins to construct a 6-inch sub sandwich. He puts beef all over it, and then some cheese, and so on. JACKSON stands by, watching all of this go on. He does seem a bit confused when the EMPLOYEE says the order into the microphone and then makes the sandwich on their own. Eventually, the EMPLOYEE brings the sandwich over to the dressing area)

Roast beef half-sandwich?

JACKSON:
Surprise me!

EMPLOYEE:
(Somewhat stunned) Um… what?

JACKSON:
You’re the sandwich artist! Show me what you’ve got.

EMPLOYEE:
… whaddya want on yer sandwich?

JACKSON:
Artists need no direction! I am commissioning this piece of work from you! It has to be your own style.

EMPLOYEE:
Pal…

JACKSON:
Jackson.

EMPLOYEE:
What?

JACKSON:
I’m Jackson. My name is Jackson. You don’t have to call me ‘pal’.

EMPLOYEE:
Whatever. I’m not an artist, ok? I put whatcha want on yer sandwich, and that’s all I do. Okay?

JACKSON:
I know. I know. I just… It struck me on my way in here today that you, and everyone just like you, probably only ever does what they’re told, right?

EMPLOYEE:
… Yeah.

EMPLOYEE looks down at the mass of vegetables, sauces and ‘considers’ it for a second. He then looks back up to JACKSON.

EMPLOYEE:
Wull… I dunno what t’put on it, really.

JACKSON:
You’re missing the point. It isn’t what you want to put on my sub, okay. It’s what calls to you. What ever makes the most sense.

EMPLOYEE:
But –

JACKSON:
You’re over-thinking it! Just dive into it!

The EMPLOYEE considers it again, and then moves towards the onions.

Onions?? Really!

EMPLOYEE:
What’s wrong with onions?

JACKSON:
Nothing! Nothing is wrong with onions. It’s just not usual to start with onions.

EMPLOYEE seems a bit offended.

EMPLOYEE:
I thought however I did yer –

JACKSON:
A mere exclamation! I’ve never seen an artist begin with onions.

EMPLOYEE:
Well, we usuall—

JACKSON:
Start with lettuce, yes! I know! Go on…

The EMPLOYEE hesitates.

EMPLOYEE:
They just call us that, y’know?

JACKSON:
I’m sorry? Call you what?

EMPLOYEE:
Sandwich artist. I ain’t a f’real artist.

JACKSON:
Son, this is exactly what I want. I want you to create not as a true, paint-on-canvas artist. I want you to be the regular man who takes ownership of the process, of the materials, and just creates. Don’t be bound by rules, or titles. Be a maverick. Be a wild card!!

EMPLOYEE doesn’t say anything. He looks at JACKSON, for a second, sighs, and then proceeds to pull out an ice cream scoop. This accomplished, he reaches down and really, really scoops a sizeable amount of mayonnaise onto JACKSON’s sandwich. JACKSON is shocked as he does this, and says nothing as EMPLOYEE scoops another, similar ball of mayo onto the other half of the sandwich. He then slops it all together and hastily wraps it up, while JACKSON kind of stammers.

EMPLOYEE:
There.

JACKSON:
But it’s just… it’s just mayonnaise and onions.

EMPLOYEE:
No. That’s what yeh call ‘Post-Modern’.

JACKSON is still agape for a beat, before breaking into a huge smile.
JACKSON:
I see!

EMPLOYEE:
That’ll be $7000.

Fin.