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Max Shine
Max Shine stood on the news set smiling into the camera. He made sure his charm translated through the lenses and into the hearts of each and every one of the half a million viewers watching WYAL Morning News. It was his job to report the weather. He supposed anyone with his degree could do just that. However, Max had to the best. He wanted the audience to feel like whenever he looked into the camera, it was like he was sitting next to them at the breakfast nook telling them to take an umbrella on rainy days. So he worked hard, coined his signature stare and his fans ate it up and that is why he was the most popular meteorologist in the Charlotte viewing area.
He could fool a lot of people with that smile and his deadly blue gaze, but his co-workers felt differently. In their opinion, Max was an asshole with a capital A. He was quite aware that they all hated him. However, they put up a good front to his face. No matter how much they complained to the executives behind his back, they made no headway. Max thought the issue derived from the fact that he brought in major ratings that rivaled the national morning news shows. That translated to sponsors. Money talked, and apparently made enemies out of co-workers.
“Goooood Morning Queen City! It’s your favorite meteorologist, Max Shine here to get you started and on your way. It’s Monday morning and time to head back to work. I know, I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s get you there comfortably. Ladies feel free to wear your peep toe shoes today as the temperature will reach highs of 68 degrees. It is a little chillier than you’re used to, but hey you could be under a blanket of snow. Am I right?”
The fake laughter resonated throughout the studio as the news anchors chortled at his antics. Max went on to give the rest of the forecast, but before he wrapped things up, he turned to the camera to give his Monday fun day spiel.
“Alright guys, you know what time it is. It’s time for the Monday Fun Day Happy Dance!”
The sound guy started the agreed upon music for the day, a clean version of a popular song by Megan Thee Stallion. People had been using her Body song to do dances on social media and Max had taken the challenge. He started moving his body around, shaking and swinging to the music like the kids he saw online. As Max rapped each lyric with such accuracy you would think he wrote the song, he swung his hips to the beat and waved his arm in the air precisely like the kids on social media, only he was no kid. As if to remind him of that fact, his knee popped, and his ankle cracked like he was twice his age. That was going to hurt later, he thought out loud as a response to the loud noise.
As soon as the red light went out, signifying they were at commercial, he rolled his eyes and immediately started rubbing his knee. He was getting too old for this. It was like he was in a living nightmare. When he first started this little sideshow act, he had been gun ho, but now he was over it. However, his fans loved his dance moves, which meant he had to keep up the monkey act.
Max really hated dancing at will whenever a fan saw him in person. They always demanded that he dance no matter where he was or what he was doing. He could be using the urinal in a public bathroom or grocery shopping or even relaxing on the beach. It never failed. Someone always asked and he felt compelled to comply. It was that resentment that put him in a bad mood most days. The man had been placed in a prison of his own making and now there was no way to escape.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the rude comments that always seemed to find their way onto his videos. A few weeks before he had been called a blubbering fool who was trying to appropriate African American culture. That one had cut him deep. His dances started out just for fun, but now he looked stupid to a certain demographic. Either way he was misunderstood.
Limping back to his cubicle, Max decided that he would take it easy for the rest of the day. He was just about to reach his workspace when he heard giggling coming from the break room. Before he reached the door, he noticed his shoe was untied so he stopped to take care of it before he tripped. That’s when he heard Aisha’s voice.
“I can’t stand the way Max is always stealing the spotlight during his segments.”
“I know girl. Just another white boy trying to appropriate black culture,” another co-worker, whose voice he didn’t recognize, chimed.
“Right? As if his white male privilege isn’t enough, he has to steal the shine from us.”
A slew of giggles emanated from the room as he kneeled by the door in disbelief. Max was crushed. It was bad enough to have strangers think this about him, but to have his co-workers agree hurt him to the core. This was a woman he spent countless hours working on projects with. What really got him was that he genuinely liked her. To hear what she really thought about him was very disconcerting. It had never been his intention to appropriate anyone’s culture. All he was trying to do was find a niche to stand out from the other meteorologists. It was just a stupid dance. Nobody had died because he decided to swing his hips on camera once a week.
Keeping his thoughts to himself, Max stretched his six-foot three-inch frame and straightened his clothes. Pushing his shoulders back, he stood and then waltzed into the break room where Aisha and her friend were huddled around the coffee pot. The looks on their faces would have told on them even if he hadn’t been listening at the door. Max harnessed all his self-control as he forced himself to smile at the gossiping women.
“Good morning, ladies. Did you catch my show? I think my dance moves are getting better and better. Don’t you?”
The gossip girls gave each other the side eye and then plastered on the fakest smiles Max had ever seen. He had to stop himself from chuckling as he watched them pretend, they weren’t just speaking negatively about him. He would rather they confront him and tell him off, than to play these stupid office games.
“Oh, Max you are a mess. You know I love your Monday dance sessions. It gets my week started in a positive light,” Aisha lied.
At least the other lady just stood there and smiled. She didn’t agree or disagree. She just stood there looking like a mannequin in a department store window. Only Max was sure no retail store worth its salt would carry such an atrocious outfit in their inventory. The woman looked like she got her outfit from the lost and found and just pieced it together from whatever was available.
Max realized he had been standing there lost in his thoughts. What could he do to annoy them and at the same time entertain himself? Hmm. That was it! He would dance his way over to the coffee machine. The women quickly moved out of his way as he popped a hot chocolate pod into the fancy machine and slid his favorite mug with the quote, ‘I’m not always an asshole. Just Kidding. Go Fuck Yourself’ on the front under the dispenser. Once the hot liquid filled his mug, he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a can of whipped cream labeled with his name. While shaking the can, he decided he would shake his ass in conjunction. Aisha and her friend couldn’t seem to pull their eyes away from him. He was putting on a show and they ate it up. It didn’t matter to Max if they liked it or not. He was acting a fool anyway.
He took the can of cream and sprayed some in his mouth and then offered the ladies a taste. The disgusted looks on their faces told him they did not want a hit of his sweet treat. He then sprayed a heaping amount on top of his hot chocolate, replaced the lid and placed the can back into the fridge before dancing his way out of the room.
The trip to his desk was a short one, but long enough for Max to recognize that he was the center of attention from his co-workers. It was nothing new. He had gotten used to people watching him and whispering behind his back. Oh, they thought he didn’t see them, but he did. He just let it roll off his back. If he was going to be the national celebrity on the most popular channel about weather on television, he would have to get used to this kind of treatment.
“What’s up good people? Happy Monday!” he called out to no one in particular.
Heads ducked back into cubicles and necks turned on swivel back toward their computers. It was a fun game Max like to play. Let them think he was a dancing fool good for nothing but office fodder. They would all wish they were his friends when he left this station behind for a job worthy of him. That reminded him. He needed to check the national weather station for details of a storm that was developing in the Atlantic.
