New skit - Job Security

I grabbed lunch at a place I ate at frequently when I was working a previous day job. I don't know if the guy who waited in me was a Christian. What I do know is that he always had a smile, was always in a good mood, and a year later he's still happier in his same job than I am in a different one. Quite a lesson, considering I was over there applying for school to pursue another career myself. Here's a little skit about it. Hope it touches you as well.

Job Security

By John Cosper

CHARACTERS

George- A Burger King employee

Mr. Smith- An unhappy white collar worker

Judy- A customer (non-speaking)

A Burger King restaurant. George is at the counter, handing a bag of food to Judy. Smith enters.

GEORGE: Afternoon, ma'am. You have a lovely day.

SMITH: Afternoon, George.

GEORGE: Mr. Smith, this is a pleasure. I was hoping I might see you one last time.

SMITH: One last time?

GEORGE: It's my last day, sir. I'm finally retiring.

SMITH: No, really?

GEORGE: Yes, sir. Doctor says I shouldn't be on my feet so much. Don't know what else I'm gonna do.

SMITH: Take a well deserved break, I hope.

GEORGE: A fella gets restless after a while. But it will be nice to sleep in more often.

SMITH: Wow, retiring. It won't be the same without having you serve my lunch every Friday.

GEORGE: Yes, sir, I'm gonna miss you too.

SMITH: How long has it been we've been doing this?

GEORGE: I checked the other night. Twenty years.

SMITH: Twenty years? Wow. And it seems like only yesterday, we ran into one another for the first time.

Flashback/transition music. Lights fade down. Lights back up on George at the counter. Smith walks in.

GEORGE: Can I help you, sir?

SMITH: Yeah, get me a new job.

GEORGE: Well, sir, we are taking applications. But judging by your suit, fry chef is not on your menu.

SMITH: It's a nice thought, thanks. I'll take a number four.

GEORGE: Number four.

SMITH: I shouldn't complain. It's only a temporary thing. I'm working in a sales office, but I have a degree in computers. Soon as I have my portfolio, I'll be starting a whole new career.

GEORGE: Good for you. I always say, if you ain't happy, do something about it.

SMITH: You seem to be rather happy here.

GEORGE: It ain't computers, but I like it just fine.

SMITH: George, is it? I'm BIll Smith.

GEORGE: A pleasure, Mr. Smith. Your meal will be out shortly.

Transition music. Lights out. Lights back up on George and Smith.

GEORGE: Ah, those were the day, huh? You'd come in here every week.

SMITH: And you always asked about that portfolio.

GEORGE: You finally got it done, and you were off to your dream career.

Transition music. Lights out. Lights up.

GEORGE: Mr. Smith, good to see you, sir!

SMITH: Hi, George.

GEORGE: Mr. Smith, you seen a little down.

SMITH: Ah, it's this new job. I kinda hate it.

GEORGE: Naw, really?

SMITH: Yeah. It's boring, my boss is an idiot. I dunno, I kind of think maybe I was better off at the old one.

GEORGE: You were miserable there. Trust me, I remember.

SMITH: I suppose. It's only temporary. My uncle's looking to open a new business. He's got a ground floor opportunity for me. Just a few more months, and I'll be happy.

Transition music. Lights down, then back up.

SMITH: That was the worst job.

GEORGE: Oh no, sir. You had plenty worse come after that. Starting with your Uncle.

Transition music. Lights down, then back up.

SMITH: I hate it, George. My uncle's a slave driver. I'm working sixty hours a week, including Saturdays and Sundays.

GEORGE: Naw, really?

SMITH: He expects me to do everything because he's too cheap to hire anyone else to help. I'm exhausted.

GEORGE: You know, Mr. Smith, we're still hiring here. They make us go home at forty hours.

SMITH: No thanks, George. I've got a new opportunity brewing. I'll be back in sales in a few weeks, and this will be just a bad memory.

Transition music. Lights down, then back up.

GEORGE: Yes, sir. You've been in sales, purchasing, accounting, computers, telecom, warehousing, retail, trucking, investment banking, and hospitality.

SMITH: Don't forget that summer I worked for that puppet theater.

Transition music. Lights down, then up quickly.

SMITH: I hate puppets!

Transition music. Lights down, then up.

SMITH: Thirty companies, thirty jobs, twenty years. And all in the same outfits.

GEORGE: This is a company uniform. What's your excuse?

SMITH: I'm gonna miss you, George. Shame you won't be here in two weeks. I'm moving on to number thirty-one.

GEORGE: Really?

SMITH: Yeah, kind of sad, isn't it? I've been searching for happiness for twenty long years, while you stay here and... well, frankly, George, I've never known you to have a bad day.

GEORGE: Oh, I've had plenty. Including days you came in.

SMITH: It still seems like you've had a much happier career here than I have.

GEORGE: I noticed that, and if I may speak frankly, Mr. Smith...

SMITH: Speak away.

GEORGE: I coulda solved your problem twenty years ago. I'm almost ashamed I never brought it up before, but changing jobs ain't never been the answer for you.

SMITH: Why's that?

GEORGE: Mr. Smith, the difference between you and me ain't the job. It's my boss. I've worked for one boss all my life, even before this job, and that has made all the difference. You let him be your boss, and he'll make a difference for you.

SMITH: You talking about the King?

GEORGE: No, sir. I'm talking 'bout the King of Kings.