At KeepCup I think I’ve been promoted.

Worked one day, got promoted.

Fist-pumping at life.

Mick is talking about improving my skill set.

He says, ‘Ow’d you go plugging yesterday?’

And I say, ‘Yeah, okay.’

He says, ‘Not too hard, is it.’

And I say, ‘Nah, it’s alright.’

He says, ‘Good man.’

And I smile.

Part of the team.

Mick says, ‘Might try ya on lids today.’

‘Okay.’

‘Whad’ya reckon?’

I find myself nodding and I keep doing that.

Mick picks up a box and hands it to me.

‘There’s five hundred lids in here and the lids are in packets of ten.’

I’m still nodding.

‘The order calls for two hundred and fifty lids, so how many packets is that?’

The lights are bright.

One of the girls has started playing techno like we’re in a day club.

‘Umm, twenty-five packets.’

And he says, ‘Good man.’

We start walking, and Mick says, ‘Never went to uni meself. How ’bout you? Studying anything?’

I shake my head.

Which is mostly true because I’ve never finished any course I’ve started.

He says, ‘Thought you might be studying maths.’

And I say, ‘Nah.’

He says, ‘Cause you’re pretty good at maths.’

We smile at each other for a while and then I get it.

We’re shooting the shit.

This is banter.

Boys being boys.

The Australian dream.

I say, ‘Yeah, I could do maths.’

And I wonder if I should elbow him, like, to seal the deal.

Or if I should say something funny.

Or punny.

Maybe a pun.

Maybe I should say —

Except I can’t think of anything besides ‘keep cupping’.

Like ‘keep trucking’.

It could be our in-joke.

At the end of the day Mick would say, ‘See yas tomorra.’

And.

Wait.

Prop comedy.

If there was a ladder somewhere I could touch the ladder and say, ‘See ya, ladder.’

And Mick would smile and say, ‘Keep cupping.’

And I would wear a trucker hat and tip it at him.

I look at Mick and say, ‘Keep cupping.’

And Mick says, ‘What?’

And I say, ‘Nothing.’

Sort of clearing my throat.