"Now come on Janine," Peter uttered, "I'm going to get you help! It's just taking.. awhile." He moved closer to the red-headed woman. "No!" Janine spat, pointing her finger at Peter. "You kept saying how you would hire more help, that was four weeks ago!"
She had now started taking magazines, her nail file, and a handheld mirror, shoving them into a cramped brown cardboard box. A furious scowl on her face.
"I've been worhkin' day and night, straight, fawh a month!" Her Brooklyn accent heavy, Janine shot daggers at Peter. Grabbing the nameplate that read 'Janine Melnitz', shoving it into the box.
"At least it's a good job, isn't it?" Peter tried to convince Janine.
"I've quit better jobs than this."
And with that the small angry woman stormed out of the Firehouse, muttering curses here and there, slamming the black door shut.
Peter slightly cringed when the door slammed, hearing Janine hail a taxi. He was in trouble with Ray, great.
And just in time, Peter had turned behind him to see Ecto-1 rolling into the Firehouse, two men stepping out. They had gone out on a bust but didn't take Venkman this time.
"Shit," He softly cursed.
Ray stepped out of the driver's side. A grin appeared on his face, his jumpsuit covered in slime. Peter let out a small chuckle as he watched Ray wipe oozing slime off the Ecto's door handle. Egon stepped out, a smoking trap in his hand. Rushing it downstairs, going to put whatever they've caught this time; in the Containment Unit.
"Venkman!" Ray shouted, jogging over to his friend.
"Oh, hello Ray," Peter said in a monotone, hoping he could be spared from Ray's wrath.
"So did you convince Janine to stay? She's a peachy receptionist after all," Ray cheerfully said, hope in his voice.
"Well.. about that, she kind of quit and stormed off. I don't think she's coming back either," Peter paused, motioning over to the empty desk, "After all, she's apparently 'quit better jobs than this.'" He snickered.
"Oh come on, Pete!" Ray glared at Peter, "Where are we gonna get another receptionist at this time? We are getting calls 24/7, and it takes all four of us to get that call done. Then usually we have another call across town, that we attend to."
"I don't know Ray, since you are the 'greatest' and 'smartest' here, I'm sure you've got this predicament handled," Peter gawked, obviously being sarcastic.
"Not now Venkman," Ray sighed, "I'll go get Spengler, maybe he'll know what to do."
With that, Ray grabbed Peter by the arm, dragging him up the stairs. Their shoes clicked on the wooden; uneven stairs. The stairs slightly creaked and groaned under the weight of the two men.
Finally reaching the top, they saw Egon on the couch, a box of Cheez-its in his lap. He looked over his shoulder seeing the two, and gave them a small smirk then popped a Cheez-it into his mouth. Then he turned his attention back to the device he was working on.
"So, Janine quit. We require a new receptionist.. desperately." Ray spoke up, his voice slightly echoing off the walls.
Egon tore his gaze away from a project he was tinkering with, his brows furrowed, "Oh? That's a shame," He softly chuckled.
Janine had a thing for Egon, she would constantly ask him about any hobbies or interests. She would ask him on dates about every weekend, although, he had politely declined each time. He didn't dislike Janine, just didn't have a romantic view of her.
Egon heaved himself up, brushing his hands along his chest, getting the crumbs off his jumpsuit. Setting the device onto the nearby table and then walking over to where Ray and Peter stood.
"So, how soon do we need a new receptionist?" Egon chimed.
"Well, considering we are always doing jobs day and night, very soon," Ray mumbled.
"So what are we going to do, another television ad?" Peter said lazily, trudging over to the couch. He flopped down throwing his legs over the side.
"How about this time, a newspaper ad?" Ray listed off.
"Print is dead," Egon said flatly.
"Well, let's give it a shot, at least I'm trying to help, Spengs," Ray spoke sharply.
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"That will be 12.95 miss." The teenage cashier spoke, and you handed him 13.00 telling him to keep the change, "Gee thanks." The teenager said sarcastically. You nodded, reaching for the brown paper bag on the counter.
You held the bag in one arm while slipping on your walkman's headphones, pressing play on the cassette player clipped to your hip. You happily sighed as Prince's 1999 album started to play. Starting off on your favorite song, 1999.
Walking down the streets of New York City, you carried your groceries in your arms, maneuvering through the crowds of people. You see one of the many free newspaper boxes in this city. Deciding to take today's paper.
Opening the box, slipping your hand in. Humming along with this song. "Yeah! They say 2000, party
over, oops outta time." Shoving the paper into the bag, you continued your trek back to your apartment. Slightly swaying your hips. "So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999!"
"I was dreamin' when I wrote this."
"So sue me if I go too fast."
"Life is just a party and parties aren't meant to last."
"War is all around us, my mind says prepare to fight!"
"So if I gotta die, I'm gonna listen to my body tonight!"
"Yeah!"
You looked up from the street, seeing the Sedgwick Hotel looming over you, knowing that you'll be home soon. Clutching onto the groceries, soon being able to put them down.
"They say 2000, party over, oops outta time."
"So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Everybody's got a bomb, we could all die any day."
"Ooow!"
"But before I let that happen, I'll dance my love away!"
Looking both ways, you cautiously jogged to the other side of the street. A taxi stopped in front of you then honking, you raised a hand and sheepishly grinned before running across to the apartment building.
"1999.."
"1999.."
"1999.."
"Don't stop.."
"Don't stop..!"
"Say it one more time!"
"Yeah!"
"They say 2000, party over, oops outta time."
"So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999!"
You pushed the glass door open, your cheeks flushing at the warmth of the building, scurrying over to the elevator.
Fumbling with your keys, you juggled the groceries in your arms. Getting the key in the keyhole, twisting the key to hear a small 'click!' knowing now that the door was unlocked. Shoving the door opening to your dark apartment.
You walked over to the couch setting your coat and walkman down, unplugging the earbuds, and set them down on the coffee table. Hopefully, they won't get tangled later.
Flipping on the lamp, the room illuminated. Taking the newspaper and set it down on the coffee table too. You picked the groceries back up walking over to the kitchen. Your hand ran across the wall looking for the light switch until you found it, flipping it on.
Setting the bag onto the counter, you began to unpack the various items inside, putting a few boxes and cans in the cupboard. While putting a few cans of New Coke in the fridge. Sighing as you threw the empty bag aside into the trash. Moving out of the room, back into the living area.
You heaved yourself down onto the couch. Seize the newspaper in your hands. The first thing you saw was a big, bold ad.
Help Desperately Wanted!
Want to work for the Ghostbusters? Just your luck!
We are in need of a new receptionist, who can take calls for 'ghost busting jobs'
Call 555-2368
Pay will be discussed over the phone.
You reread the ad several times, 'Ghostbusters?'
You've seen the ad on tv serval times; a day. It was practically hammered into your brain because of how often you see it.
I mean, it's just a receptionist job? You basically get paid for sitting at a desk and answering the phone. How hard could it be? Why not.
You scooted over to the table beside the couch, hesitantly picking up the phone. You stared at the buttons before punching in 555-2368. Lifting the telephone up to your ear, hearing the ringing from the phone.
"Hello, Ghostbusters. How may we help you?" A man's voice came from the other side.
"Hello, I saw the ad about the replacement receptionist. I am interested." You chimed.
"That's great. Do you think you could come down to the station for an interview today? Or just to come to meet the guys?" He merrily spoke.
"Of course, I've got nothing better to do today."
"Okay! The address should be in the ad too." The man's voice hid overwhelming joy.
"Actually what about the pay?-" Getting cut off, hearing a dial tone on the other side.
You shook your head, pulling yourself up. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing your purse and lifting the strap onto your shoulder. You grabbed your coat, slipping it on. Buttoning it up, preparing for the chilly weather of New York.
Before you closed the apartment door, you swiftly grabbed the walkman laying on the coffee table and its headphones burying it in the messy purse.
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Looking out from the taxi's window, you saw a tall Firehouse. A strange ghost symbol for its sign. The taxi came to a halt, you took a glance at the meter. Rummaging around in your purse you found a crumpled bill and handed it to the man, "Thanks, ma'am." The driver said in a gruff voice. You slipped out of the taxi car, shutting the door as he sped off. You brushed your jacket down, making sure you looked presentable.
Walking up to the tall black doors of the station, a smaller door leading inside. You grabbed the doorknob, twisting it. Slipping inside quickly and shut the door softly behind you.
Your heels click on the tile floor, it slightly echoing off the walls.
You walked further in, you passed a white hearse, a very odd looking hearse. It also had that same ghost symbol on its side, the same strange one you saw outside.
After passing the hearse, you see three men around a large wooden desk, one of them sitting on the desk, one standing beside it, and one leaning against it. All of them chatting with each other, alas you are unable to hear what they're saying.
As you approached, the one on the desk noticed you but kept quiet, although he did eye you. You did spark the attention of the one of the standing.
A slightly plump man waved you over, extending his hand to shake yours. He seemed tired, dark circles underneath his beautiful heterochromic eyes but they still shone brightly. He flashed you a toothy grin, "Ray Stantz," he cheerfully spoke.
"Nice to meet you. Are you the one I spoke to on the phone?" You asked, your eyes darting to two other men watching you curiously.
"Yeah, you spoke to me on the phone. Glad you could make it." He grinned.
"Let me introduce you to the other two Ghostbusters!" First, he gestured to the man sitting on the desk behind him.
The male sitting atop the desk stared you down, you put your hand out to shake his but he softly grabbed your wrist and kissed your hand. He gave you a sly smile, "Peter Venkman, pleasure to meet you," then gave you a wink.
You forced a smile, giving an awkward chuckle.
To Ray's right, a tall lanky man stood, thin-rimmed glasses hiding soft dark brown eyes. Thick curly brown hair slightly hid his furrowed brows. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, you decided not to try and greet this strange man. Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. He gave you a small smile back, "Egon.. Egon Spengler," his deep voice caught you off guard.
"Well.. it's nice to me you too, Egon." You sheepishly said, not making eye contact with the man.
"Say," Ray began, "I haven't caught your name yet miss."
"Oh," Your cheeks flushed, "Y/N L/N."
"Well, Y/N. Why don't we get the interview out of the way? After all, that's why you are here." Ray grabbed your wrist softly, dragging you into a dining area.
"Do you believe in the paranormal? Such as ghosts, specters, and spooks?" Ray paused, "UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full trance mediums, the Lochness Monster, and the theory of Atlantis?"
You blinked, trying to process everything he said, "If it has a steady pay, I'll believe anything you say."
"Great," He chuckled. "You seem to check out everywhere else."
"You're hired, miss. You start tomorrow."