America: A Prodigy of Stereotypes

"I'm listening."

"How much money do I need to prepare, and how long will it take...?"

What is your job now?

In the office, the dockworkers questioned Steve.

Steve could only see the nameplate on the office desk, but had no idea what the person's job title was.

"Municipal waste collector".

"Oh?" The other person looked Steve over with surprise.

"Are you planning to quit? We dockworkers are paid more than garbage collectors."

“I want to do both,” Steve said.

"No, you can only choose one side." The other person stared fiercely at Steve.

"How are the wages here?"

"The base hourly wage is $30. If you work a full eight-hour shift, you're still just a junior worker. After a year, it will increase to $32. Overtime is paid at 1.5 times the hourly rate, and there's an extra $8 for late-night shifts. In bad weather like this, there's an extra $12."

"...My current job is about the same."

Steve looked down at the man sitting in the chair behind the desk. The man was extremely fat; he couldn't understand how someone like that could do manual labor at the docks.

Steve left the port again.

Steve came here based on a newspaper ad, but the job posting was for permanent dockworkers, not temporary workers.

Steve walked back to Brooklyn from the dock on his own two feet, his handsome appearance and strong physique attracting the attention of every passerby.

Steve's fellow garbage collectors joked that if he were ruthless enough, he could work as a male dancer in an underground bar and earn half a year's salary in one night.

Hearing people speaking Spanish on the street, Steve knew he had reached his neighborhood.

It was very cold, and there were far fewer New York police officers patrolling.

A group of young people and an old man stood in front of a wall and sprayed the entire wall white with a white paint sprayer.

They threw the empty spray can into a gasoline drum that was burning something. With a "bang," the spray can exploded, and something inside the gasoline drum flew into the air.

An elderly man in a trench coat began to sing in Spanish. He stood alone in front of a white wall and started spraying red paint, while the young man beside him sang along quietly.

Steve Rogers watched this scene quietly. He seemed to recognize the song, while the old man drew a pattern on the white wall—a pattern that would strike fear into the hearts of Americans.

The old man turned around, smiled at Steve, opened his arms and said something loudly to Steve, but Steve couldn't understand the old man's Spanish.

Back at the apartment, Steve had dinner with Sharon in her room and told her about his trip to the docks.

“The jobs of dockworkers in New York Harbor are indeed good; they are among the highest-paid blue-collar workers, but the hiring threshold is very high,” Sharon said.

"Do you want to go?" Sharon asked.

“I’m internally resistant to this job,” Steve replied.

"How about giving this a try? Applying for a night security guard position in the building?"

“You can go to work right when you get off work,” Sharon said.

"I'll try."

……

The next day, after get off work, Steve went home, took a shower in the communal bathroom, changed into a presentable suit, and then went to Manhattan for an interview for a night security guard job at a building.

The building that is hiring night security guards is located at 200 Park Avenue.

Steve grew a short beard, which his coworkers said made him more masculine, and his bald chin made him look like a pretty boy.

When Steve walked into the building in a suit, the people in the lobby thought that some important person had entered.

"I'm here for a night security guard interview," Steve told the receptionist, who thought he had misheard.

"Did you previously work for a government department?" the receptionist asked Steve.

"National departments?"

Steve wondered to himself, "Are municipal garbage collectors also part of the government?"

“It is now,” Steve replied.

"Excuse me for asking, why do you want to apply for this job? I'm not the interviewer, I'm just curious..." The receptionist's voice trailed off.

"I need a second job to earn more money so that my fiancée and I can move to a nicer house."

The receptionist nodded with satisfaction. Steve had now established himself in her mind as a responsible and good man.

"Elevator number two, 16th floor, turn left, the innermost room."

"Thank you."

Steve stood in front of the elevator, straightened his coat buttons, and waited quietly for the elevator to come down.

When Steve stepped into the elevator, none of the people waiting for the elevator dared to ride with him.

Steve didn't know why, but he assumed it was just a rule inside the building.

Steve arrived at the interview room without incident. He was the only one there for the interview, so he knocked on the door and went straight in.

The building's security chief was sitting inside; the room was spacious and carpeted.

"Sir, did you bring your resume?"

"No resume."

"Without a resume, how am I supposed to know your name?"

"My name is Johnny Rogers."

“Mr. Johnny, please introduce yourself and why you believe you are qualified for this job.” The security supervisor clasped his hands together, rested his chin on his hand, and scrutinized Steve.

Steve stood up, took off his suit jacket and put it on the chair, then took off a few more pieces of clothing, leaving only his innermost shirt. He unbuttoned a few buttons on the shirt and rolled up his sleeves to show off his perfect physique.

Wow!

Moderate exercise attracts the opposite sex, while excessive exercise attracts the same sex.

The security supervisor stood up, walked around the desk to Steve, and couldn't help but reach out and pinch Steve's biceps and stroke his pectoral muscles.

"It's perfect..."

"Do you use any medication? Would you mind recommend one to me?" the security supervisor asked in a low voice.

“It’s completely natural, without any medication,” Steve replied earnestly.

"I do not believe."

"Take off your shirt too, I need to check it."

"This is the physical examination process for security guard applicants."

Steve took off his shirt, revealing his perfectly muscular upper body to the security chief.

Steve has a low body fat percentage, and every muscle is perfectly shaped, with some areas strengthened by his work habits.

"Would you accept another job?" the safety manager asked, stroking his chin.

"What kind of job? I only want to apply for a security guard position."

"That's a real shame." The security manager looked disappointed.

“You have a great physique, but being a building security guard isn’t that simple.”

Do you know how to fight?

Steve nodded.

"Let's have a match."

The security chief also began to take off his clothes, and Steve then put his shirt on and buttoned it up.

Just as the security chief got into position, Steve punched him, knocking him to the ground.

Steve held back, not knocking the security chief unconscious with a single punch.

"what……"

"what's the situation?"

The security manager stood up, covering his face, and stared blankly at Steve.

“I remember you, you are that wanderer.”

Steve nodded slightly.

"Great, you're hired."

The safety supervisor wiped his mouth, drool coming out.

Steve walked back to the chair and started putting on his clothes, one piece at a time.

"Come and take a look at your contract. Your salary will be paid every Monday by bank transfer check. Other payment methods require separate application..." The security supervisor and Steve stood by the desk, and the two began a brief onboarding training.

"Can we start work tonight?"

"can."

"Any other questions?" the security manager asked.

"Am I the only one here? Am I the only one patrolling all 93 floors of this building?" Steve asked.

"The top ten floors are not patrolled; you can only patrol the areas that your ID card can access."

"We need to patrol at least twice a night."

"I'll show you around tonight."

"Come with me to change your clothes," the security supervisor said.

Steve changed into a security guard uniform with a flashlight hanging from his waist, while the security supervisor had a gun on his waist.

The security chief suggested that Steve get a gun license.

Steve followed the security supervisor into the building's monitoring room. He had been resting in the monitoring room before his shift started. The security room was located outside the monitoring room.

"The world's most advanced surveillance system led to the dismissal of all my former subordinates. But recently, we discovered vulnerabilities in the system, requiring human intervention to function perfectly. That's why you got this job, Johnny," the security manager said to Steve, arms crossed.