Chapter 24: Does a Rental Company Even Have This on the Menu?
When Monica asked what he'd bought, Bruce set all the bags on the dining table and handed out the mug, the bracelet, and the VHS set to Monica, Phoebe, and Ross respectively.
Joey chimed in, "Bruce is thanking everyone for taking care of him when he was sick!"
"That's so sweet! But taking care of friends is just what we do—you didn't have to get us anything. Oh wow, I love this mug!" Monica unwrapped it and examined it carefully, turning it in her hands.
"That's exactly what I just told Bruce," Joey said. "Friends don't keep tabs."
Phoebe was already sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. Bruce told her, "The seller said it has protective energy—when you're doing your spiritual readings, it'll amplify everything."
"Ooh, I didn't even think of that," Phoebe said, delighted. "I just thought it was pretty!"
Bruce opened his mouth to speak to Ross, but Ross beat him to it: "Bruce, why'd you get me the Jurassic Park set? We've all seen those movies."
Bruce grinned. "A collector's edition Jurassic Park box set is perfect coming from me—my thing is film, yours is dinosaurs. A dinosaur movie connects both our worlds. Pretty clever, right?"
"Okay, I hadn't thought of it that way," Ross admitted. "Guess I should add this to my collection then."
Monica asked, "What did you get Rachel and Chandler?"
"A silk scarf for Rachel," Bruce said, pulling a magazine from the bag. Though still in its wrapper, the cover model was unmistakable. He pointed at the figure. "Look at this."
"Oh my God, it's Chandler! Where did you find this?"
"In the comic shop next to the video store," Bruce said. "Guess I'm not the only one who thinks this guy looks like him, right?"
"I can't wait to see Chandler's face when he sees it," Joey said.
"I'm dying to look through it—this is the first magazine like this that's ever interested me!" Monica added, then stopped herself. "No, we should let Chandler open it himself."
"Alright, guys, I'll leave Rachel's and Chandler's gifts here. I need to return the rental car, then get upstairs and write—there's an audience waiting for Crazy Clerk Part Two!"
Bruce dropped the pajamas he'd bought for himself in his apartment, hurried downstairs, started the car, and headed for the rental place. Near the lot, he had an idea.
At the counter he asked the manager, "How much would you charge to sell me this car?"
The manager blinked, glanced at the company sign as if to confirm what business they were in, and said, "But we're a rental agency—we rent cars, we don't sell them."
"Come on, everything's negotiable. If you can rent by the day, you can sell outright. Just give me a number."
The manager shrugged. "I'd have to call the owner. But why buy from us instead of going to a Ford dealer or a used car lot? You could get a brand new one for only about eighteen grand."
"I like this one—wait, did you say only eighteen grand?"
Ten minutes later, paperwork abandoned, Bruce walked out of the rental office, hailed a cab, and told the driver to take him to the nearest Ford dealership.
Two hours and twenty-seven thousand dollars later—after temporary plates, thirty-day insurance, and all the paperwork—Bruce drove off in a brand-new 3.2-liter Ford Taurus SHO with a Yamaha V6, sport suspension, upgraded body kit, and Recaro seats.
He paid extra for the dealer to process the permanent plates; they'd arrive in the mail in about two weeks.
Sitting behind the wheel, Bruce breathed in that new-car smell as New York's chaotic, noisy, vibrant streets stretched out beyond the windshield.
"Looks like the best gift today is the one I bought for myself," he thought.
Soon he reached Greenwich Village, parked near Central Perk, and was heading for the stairs when Rachel stepped outside and stopped him.
"Bruce, wait—what happened? You left at lunch in that old rental and came back in a brand-new car," Rachel said, looking between him and the shiny sedan in confusion.
"Take a guess," Bruce said with a smile.
"Don't tell me you bought a new car?"
"Bingo. Want to go for a ride?"
"I'd love to, but I'm working. Rain check though. Your writing career must be going really well—did you pay cash?"
"Yep, all cash. Ruby sent me a check for the Crazy Clerk sequel script—perfect timing for the car fund. Speaking of which, I should get upstairs and earn that money. See you later, Rachel—but first I need to grab a large coffee to go."
Back upstairs, Bruce called in a pizza delivery, took a shower, changed into his new pajamas, and by the time he was done the pizza had arrived.
He sat at his desk, eating pizza and sipping coffee while mapping out the structure of Crazy Clerk Part Two.
The framework came together quickly: instead of creating something from scratch, he'd adapt the 2006 original that didn't exist in this timeline yet. Thanks to the thousands of movies he'd memorized, any film that didn't exist here was fair game for inspiration.
By early evening, Bruce had finished a story outline that adapted elements from his mental archive and incorporated the adult content Ruby wanted.
With the outline complete, Bruce figured he could finish the full script in two days—no problem.
He decided to head downstairs and hang out with his friends. Bruce grabbed the two leftover pizza slices, his keys, locked the door, and ate the pizza as he walked down the stairs.
Bruce knocked on Monica's door. Rachel opened it, saw Bruce, and burst out laughing: "Bruce—oh my God, you look like my dad!" He'd come down wearing the brand-new pajamas he'd bought earlier.
Rachel continued, "I got the gift you left for me. I absolutely love the silk scarf. When you saw me outside Central Perk this afternoon, why didn't you mention you'd gotten me something?"
Bruce replied, "That would've ruined the surprise! Has Chandler been by—did he get his gift?"
"Chandler got the magazine you left; he's on the couch right now." Rachel stepped aside to let Bruce in.
"Hey, Chandler, did you see the magazine? Notice anything special?" Bruce sat down next to Monica, with Chandler and Joey on her other side.
Chandler said flatly, "If you mean did I notice the guy on the cover looks exactly like me—yeah, I noticed."
Bruce, missing Chandler's gloomy tone and Joey's warning look, added enthusiastically, "I knew you'd get a kick out of it!"
Chandler's eyes widened. "Who said I got a kick out of it? I opened that thing and felt like someone had stolen my identity. I could've been doing something creative, you know? But instead, some guy out there is living the life I should be living."
Bruce said, "Sorry, Chandler—I didn't realize you wanted to be in publishing or something."
Chandler frowned. "No, that's not—look, I don't want to draw comics. Maybe the ideal version of me would be a columnist—writing humor pieces for magazines or newspapers."
Bruce said, "I get it: your job isn't what you actually want to do. You'd rather be doing something you're passionate about, like whoever created that magazine cover."
Chandler sighed, "Pretty much. Sorry, Bruce—rough day at work. Your gift is really thoughtful; I shouldn't be taking this out on you."
"Don't worry about it, Chandler. We all have bad days. Want to talk about what happened?"
Joey cut in, "I already tried—he won't say anything."
But Chandler said, "Actually, I'm feeling a little better now. Fine, here's what happened: this morning my WENUS crashed."
Phoebe spoke for everyone: "Okay, sweetie—whatever a WENUS is, 'crashed' sounds really bad. So... what is it?"
Had they not known it was work-related, they might have thought it was some weird medical condition.
Chandler explained, "WENUS—the Weekly Estimated Net Usage System."
Everyone said "Oh" in unison, still having absolutely no idea what a Weekly Estimated Net Usage System actually was.
"Today it conflicted with the ANUS quarterly report, so my boss told me to reconcile five years of WENUS and ANUS data. Turns out the New Jersey office uses a different calculation method, which threw off all the North American numbers. Now I'm stuck cleaning up this mess for at least a month."
When he finished, the living room fell completely silent as everyone tried—and failed—to understand what he'd just said.
After a few seconds, Rachel said gently, "Honey, we have absolutely no idea what you just said, but we totally get that work is awful. If it helps to vent, keep going."
Chandler continued, "Okay, this part you'll understand: today I realized I genuinely hate my job. I sit in a cubicle manipulating meaningless numbers so some suit can stand up in a meeting and say, 'WENUS looks good.' Who cares? My coffee mug has more purpose than I do."
Another silence, then Bruce spoke up: "Chandler, if you really hate it, maybe it's time to make a change. I'm not saying quit tomorrow, but you mentioned writing humor—why not try submitting some pieces in your spare time? Freedom usually comes from having options that can actually pay the bills."
Chandler replied, "Exactly—I can make money doing something I hate, but I can't make money doing what I'd love."
Joey interjected, "Wait—how do we even know that magazine guy loves what he does? Maybe he hates his job just as much as you hate yours."
Chandler said, "Easy: someone who hated their job couldn't create something that reminds me of myself."
Monica spoke up, "Okay, enough about work—let's talk about something we can all participate in."
Joey said brightly, "Sure! I heard that when women live together, their cycles eventually sync up. Monica, Rachel—has that happened with you two?"
Everyone stared at him in stunned silence. Finally Rachel shrieked, "Oh my God, Joey—seriously? Monica meant a topic everyone can enjoy talking about, not... that!"
Joey shrugged, "Hey, I'm out of ideas."
Rachel's face lit up, "Oh! New topic: Bruce bought a new car!"
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