The Butler Didn't Do It

Brett gazed at his reflection in the mirror. The oversized black uniform hung loosely on his wiry frame. He could see the tips of his fingers, made paler by the stark darkness of the suit, straining to find agency in the cavernous sleeves. He tossed his blond hair back with a groan. I feel like I’m playing dress up. Which, Brett thought, is basically true. “I’m swimming in this.” Brett complained to Effie Potts, the costume mistress of Bowers Manor. “Well, look who thinks he’s playing a young lord.” Effie replied dryly, while gathering her supplies. She’d been working at Bowers Manor long enough to know who would (and wouldn’t) last the season. This boy with his udder distain for everything she worked for wasn’t going to special attention from her. “I thought we were supposed to be all spiffy,,” Brett emphasized the old-fashioned word with a mock English accent, “for the guests. Mrs. Potter didn’t even glace his way as she tidied up. “The first Butler and his immediate support, those who are actually going to be SEEN and play an interactive role, will have their uniforms fitted.” Ouch Brett thought, I’m more invisible than a normal butler? The costume mistress handed Brett a garment bag. “Put your suit into this after you disrobe. Remember, you tear it, you pay for it.” With that warning Mrs. Potter swept out the door. Watching her go, Brett felt both relieved and sad. Used to popularity at school he felt how low he’d fallen. Here he was, during vacation, working at a manor where he would be expected to serve weirdoes who wanted to live the 19th century upper-class lifestyle. Worse, he would be serving the weirdoes who LIKED serving the weirdoes. As he angrily took off his suit a voice in his head chided him. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you hadn’t--- “Hey!” A large dark brown hand came down on Brett’s shirtless shoulder. He whirled around, ready to knock someone out. But staring at him with a wide grin, completely unconcerned for the welfare of his easy-to-punch teeth, was Gregory. Brett relaxed. His friend didn’t believe nakedness was something to be ashamed of, like he had in high school gym class; he carried on like normal while one of his friends uncomfortably put on shirts and pants. “Glad to see you are fitting in so well.” Gregory said wryly. He wore his own butler suit, very well tailored Brett noted, with pride. Brett bristled at the comment though. “Is that a joke?” Without missing a beat Gregory replied, “Yes.” “Oh.” Gregory crossed his arms and said evenly, “You could at least try to act thankful to be here. People literally are fight for a chance to work here. “ Brett ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably. “You know I’m thankful. I need the money, but….” “If you have to add a “but” I’m not sure it counts as a ‘thank you’.” Waving his arms to indicate all the costumes and props a frustrated Brett made his case. “I just think this whole thing is weird. Who pays hundreds of dollars to play dress up? Can’t they just watch some Jane Austen movie to get their kicks? “Jane Austen’s stuff is set almost 100 years before Bowers Manor.” “You know what I mean.” Gregory stared at his friend with disappointment. They’d shared the adventures of childhood, trials of middle school, and had barely survived high school, Brett beginning to run with a different circle of “friends”. Even when Brett went to college Gregory still managed to keep in touch. Truthfully if he hadn’t he wasn’t sure Brett would have been mature enough to admit he still needed his old friend, especially now. It was Gregory who had stepped in to save Brett from disaster, helping him get this job. He knew the consequences if his friend failed to earn enough money by the beginning of the school year. “Would you rather go back to the Pretzel Palace?” Gregory asked. Brett’s eyes widened in horror, his ears still rang with the sounds of screaming children. He could almost smell the rancid butter…. “No. “ Smiling, Gregory motioned for Brett to follow him. “In that case, why don’t I teach you how to carry a tray of wine glasses?” Downstairs was not as Brett had envisioned. He expected cramped corridors, dim lighting, and a persistent moldy odor. However the moment he stepped through the door leading to the “Downstairs” the industrial lighting, air conditioning, and spacious work areas surprised him. His friend was amused by his bewilderment. “It’s not completely authentic. Come on, the wine glasses are in the kitchen.” The kitchen, gleaming, and modern space, with every convenience a cook could want. It was a complete juxtaposition from upstairs. New cooks and staff were present, training to be the best servants they could be. In one corner scullery maids were leaning how to properly scrub a floor. Butlers were learning the correct fork to bring during courses if a guest dropped one. It was easy to see that Bower’s Manor was set up to provide it’s guests with fast service. Brett had to hand it to the owner of this place. He knew his guests might want to feel like they lived in the early 1900s, but not at the expense of modern comforts like warm toast or a quick cup of coffee. “This wasn’t what I was expecting.” Brett said. “Really? It was all in the employee handbook.” Brett blushed didn’t try to respond to the offhand comment. Gregory continued. “I’m not sure you realize how badly you did in your interview---“ “It wasn’t easy.” “It would have been easier if you had done even a single bit of the reading I sent to you.” “What’s it matter? I got the job, didn’t I ?” “No, you didn’t” “Then…” “I got you the job. I’d heard how badly you’d done and I went to management. I’ve accumulated quite a bit of trust here. I’ve found at least 5 other employees who the bosses love. So, even though they had serious doubts, they took a chance on you.” “I’m not that bad!” “Brett, dude…I need you just try. You know? This isn’t school, you don’t have to act like working hard is uncool.” “I don’t ‘act’.” “Whatever. The point is this is a JOB and you won’t get a slap on the wrist. You’ll get fired. And then you won’t have money. And then---“ “I know.” Both were silent for a moment. The weight of the situation hung over both of their heads. “Maybe it’s time you meet some of your fellow underlings” “Aren’t you an underling too?” “Not as underling as you.” Leaving the silverware closet the boys saw that the entire staff had formed a semicircle around a dapper looking man. He wore butler livery but with such carriage that one could easily miss his status if they hadn’t read the training manual, which of course, Brett had not. “Who’s that?” “That, Brett, is the manservant, He’s in charge of everything downstairs. Including you.” The man began to speak once everyone was gathered. “Hello everyone, new staff, and old staff. I am Mr. Davidson, if you’re not already aware, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Bowers Manor, the finest, and only, English style manor house in the area.” “Does it count as an English Manor house if this is America?” Brett whispered. Gregory just gave him a very dirty look. “You have chosen to put yourself into service and that is no small responsibility. Here at Bowers Manor we strive to make our clients really feel the experience of living as the upper crust in a simpler time.” A titter, so light that only a few heard it, emanated from Brett’s right. He looked over. A girl, Africa-American, her natural curly hair dyed an unnatural purple, had her hand to her mouth and was suppressing laughter. She obviously didn’t take this too seriously. Brett immediately liked her. Davidson had ears like a fox it seemed. He glared in the direction from which the sound came. “I trust all of you will take the responsibilities you have chosen to bear seriously.” The girl couldn’t seem to resist and she raised her hand “Yes, you with the lavender tresses.” “As for historical accuracy as you can see I am not quite what the upper class would have respected in the day, or now.” She added with a wry smile. “I don’t mind acting like they are my superiors in this playacting we’ve agreed to do, but if one person uses a racial epitaph—“ Mr. Davidson held up a hand to stop her “I completely understand. It is made clear to all of our guests in the contact they sign that their visit here does not permit them to use any violence, hate-speech, or otherwise offensive manners towards the staff. And should you see a guest who is not as you say “lily white” please remember that they are to be treated exactly the same. Anyone, patron or worker who disobeys this rule will immediately be escorted off the premises. “ The purple haired girl shared a satisfied look with a black haired girl next to her. “And since we are addressing concerns perhaps now is a time for a refresher for those of you who perhaps, skimmed the training manual.” It might have been Brett’s imagination but he was sure Mr. Donaldson’s eyes had flickered for a moment at him. “The guests stay for a week’s time. Whether for love of historical replays or a need to assuage their ego, they depend on Bowers Manor to give them the best turn of the century experience money can buy. And the experience is not cheap. As a result, they can be quite demanding. Those who pay more can claim certain roles to put them higher on the social scale. They are to be served first. During the week we put on a series of events aimed to entertain the guests, but during the day, most of the week, they are free to roam the ground and take advantage of all the amenities we provide. Direct your gaze to this map.” Two of the employees came forward and stretched a large sheet of paper between them. It was staggering to see how much land the manor took up. “The grounds have woods, a lake, a maze, a tennis court, promenade areas, stables, and an archery area. They may also choose to stay indoors where they can take advantage of the library, indoor bowling alley, and theater—“ “They had movie theaters?” Brett heard what sounded like a quick slap to someone’s head. “No. Now, as I was saying, there is also a theater, and art gallery. The only place they are not allowed is the restricted employee areas. This is strictly for your benefit. We decided it would be much harder to train you to use early nineteenth century supplies. But your downstairs sleeping quarters are much to the style of the rest of the house. Should they choose to come down to explore your line will be…?” “Pardon me, I did not hear the bell. How may I be of service to you?” Almost every maid and butler said in unison. “They are not allowed in your bedroom, but the halls and corridors they may roam. People are curious.” “Should you have any questions please aim your inquires at someone who has been longer than yourself. I don’t expect to be disturbed unless there is a crisis. Usually if you see me, something has gone terribly wrong, and you will probably not see anyone else before you leave the manor.” With that the austere Butler left. As soon as the doors closed behind him there was an audible sound of people exhaling They began to chatter, getting to know those who would be serving alongside them. A girl with long blond hair hurried over to Gregory. “I thought this year the downstairs would be completely off limits? How—“ “Lucy,” Gregory said quickly, looking around, “not here.” He took her slender arm and gently pulled her to a more secluded spot. Brett, now alone, looked around. He knew how to impress people, let Gregory just wander off. He sauntered over the purple girl who was chatting to her friend, back turned to him. He cleared his throat. She turned to look at him. For a moment he was too stunned to talk. Her eyes were a light brown, almost orange, and they did not look friendly. “What?” she asked curtly. “I..I...why are you working in a silly place like this?” Wow. Brett inwardly groaned, I’m a regular Shakespeare. The girl looked at him like he was a bug. Her friend tittered. “Tanya, be nice, he’s probably shy. Hi, I’m Wen. First year?” Brett nodded. “It’s Tanya’s first year too. Don’t let her don’t-mess-with-me-demeanor fool you. She’s actually quite cool once you get to know her.” “To some people.” Tanya muttered. Brett hazarded to guess she did not think he was one of those people. At that moment another young man jogged over to them. He was had a wide smile.. “Hey! I heard someone say first year! Mine too! Max, by the way.“ He loudly induced himself. Brett recognized his voice as that who had assumed the place had an indoor movie theater. “I’m super excited! This is going to be the chilliest summer job ever. “ Well thought Brett, at least he is right about that. As Brett would come to find, Max had about as much knowledge of the future as he did about the history of home entertainment systems.