My name is Harry Learner. I am employed with the White Star Lines, where I serve as one of the stewards on their fine ocean liners. The age of discovery, they called it. Everything was blooming up. Everything was happening. England was seeking the bigger, the grander. The faster, the stronger, the most expensive. Everything was based upon that in those days. England was the center of progress, an I, well, was working for the most progressive, the White Star Line.
The firm was owned by a curious man named J. Bruce Ismay. He was a very curious man indeed. Mr. Ismay always wanted to better himself. He was a lonely man, who happened to own one of the biggest money making sources in England. Mr. Ismay loved his money. He would… I don’t know if I should say it. Bruce would… would intentionally leave some miniature… important things out of his ships. Well, not that I should know that, mind you. I’m not at all nosey. I just seem to end up on the wrong side of the door a lot. Mr. Ismay was a good man all in all, though. We respected him. Why, it was he who hired me. Personally.
"Harry Learner? What origin of a name is that? You’re English, I suppose," he said, reading over my application.
"English, sir. And I’ll be willing to do whatever is available to do, sir," I replied, eager to earn a job at this high of a firm.
"Yes, yes I see," he said, taking his final glance at the resume, then throwing it in the wastepaper basket. He put his elbows on his desk, as I gulped. It was hopeless. "Mr. Learner… we are not in need of a street ragamuffin in our firm. On the other hand, Mr. Learner, we might be in need of.. your services. Now, would you settle for first-class steward?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," I said, with a small grin upon my face.
"When can you report to work, Mr. Learner?" he asked, going through a stack of papers.
"I suppose tomorrow, sir. If that won’t be too much trouble. I can come today…"
"That’s won’t be necessary. You may report at earliest convenience. Now, Mr. Learner, you will need to fill out these documents right away."
"Yes, sir," I said, going out the door. I had my job. I was working at a famous place, under the command of a famous man. I was going to be the famous steward to the rich and famous.
So, naturally, I went out of the door, onto the street, and danced around. I was so happy. I ran home. So full of energy. I came up the to gate and opened it. Running up to the porch, I dug in my pockets for the key. When I finally found them, I opened the door.
Sitting at the piano was Gracie, my wife. She was dressed in a beautiful, blue gown with a beautiful white lace bodice. Grace was sitting at the piano playing a song for our children, who were playing around the house. She was so kind with the children.
"Hello, my Gracie. I have some wonderful news for you," I said, touching her shoulder as she stopped the song.
"What is it, Harold, dear?" she asked. Grace walked over to the sitting room and picked up a kettle. She poured a cup of tea and handed it to me.
"Well, you know how I was looking at that job posting for the White Star Lines? Well, I talked to Mr. Ismay today. He’s the owner, you know. The job was handed to him by his father. Anyway, I went in and got the courage to ask him if I could work for him and gave him my résumé. He looked over it and offered me a job on one of his ships as a steward. Isn’t that great? Now we can buy more things for the kids to use in primary school, we can buy them new clothes. Grace, we can take a trip. Isn’t that wonderful?" I narrated, very exclamatory. I was so glad. Finally, I could do the things I wanted. Get new suits. Maybe buy a house. Make my children happy for their dad. I would be finally happy.
"Oh, Harold! That is wonderful!" she screamed with glee. "Do they pay much?" Gracie gave me an "eye".
"I have heard it told," I said with a smile. I knew I had made Grace happy. It was in her eyes. Grace was always confident in me. She would always be accounted for in the good deed doing of the household. She also made me money. Grace knitted, sewed, painted. And did some other things. The ladies at the Stockholm Galleries liked her works and displayed them. They finally sold them for a considerable price, coaxing Gracie to make some more, for money’s sake.
Mind you, we do not look poor. Our house is a fine site. There are all wood workings inside, and the outside is painted white. It looks as if a couple of well to do’s lived there. But, alas, there are hardly any money making opportunities that suit me, or any business that will take me in. I have no idea why they won’t either. Mr. Ismay is a kind, well to do gentleman that took me into his firm with a belief that I will do him good and offer a service that he has chosen me to do with skill on one of his fine ocean liners.
I walked up to our youngest child, Nathaniel, picked him up, and spoke. "Nathan, your daddy has a job now. Isn’t that wonderful?"
"I suppose," he said, trying to act older, and hiding the fact that he is only four.
"Do you know what that means? It means you’ll be getting some new toys. Won’t you like that?" Nathaniel’s eyes lit up with a sheer expression of happiness. He reached up and hugged me as I put him back down.
"We are getting new toys! We are getting new toys!" he announced to the other children.
"Yeah!" exclaimed every one of them. I have four children. Nathaniel, who is four; Cassandra, who is eight; Lisabeth, who is nine; and Harold, who is eleven.
"I don’t need any toys," said Harold. "I’m too grown up."
"Well, how about I buy you a nice bicycle?" I asked him.
"Yes, father," he said, as he sat down to finish his puzzle.
I walked into the kitchen, where my wife followed. She came up behind me.
"Hello, Mr. Learner…," she said, as she put her arms around my neck. She lifted herself up on her tip toes and started to kiss me. Then, I heard little footsteps running into the living room and a slight giggle. I looked Grace in the eye, and laughed.
Walking back into the living room, all the children suddenly gasped and put on their happy, playful faces. Children are great actors. I looked over at Nathaniel, who was playing with an old toy boat.
"Nathan, your daddy’s going to be working on one of those very soon. I’m going to wait on all the rich men and women and serve them their food."
"You’re going to work on a boat, daddy? That’s a marvelous idea," he said. I messed up his hair a little.
(That's what I have so far. Oh, look at the next, romantic thing I wrote. Look. It took a whole 24 hours to write.
It was six o’clock.
(Beautiful... *sniff sniff* :P)