The Adventures of Andresín the Substitute

The Adventures of Andresín the Substitute

San Marcos de la Jara is a small village in the dry, arid region of Castile. Its people are quiet, and perhaps the greatest bustle occurs with the arrival of the swallows in spring. The constant movement of these dark-coated birds from clay to nest leaves most of the population in awe. Their mayor, Don Antonio, believes it's perfect. While the villagers are distracted, they don't think twice. And that benefits him and his council.

As in many towns, there are always people who stand out. Some for their intelligence and others for their complete absence, or at least, at first glance.

Andresín, Tomasa's son, was always simple. His only distinguishing feature was his knack for sneaking into houses the neighbors hadn't bothered to lock, to guzzle their jars of pork loin in lard. His ruddy complexion and rounded figure left no room for doubt. He was simply a glutton.

His mother, fed up with the neighbors' constant complaints, was constantly on his case, which exhausted her completely. So she decided to take matters into her own hands and find a solution.

Sitting by the entrance to the town hall, she waited for the mayor.

– Don Antonio, Don Antonio! –

– Tell me, Tomasa, what brings you here so early? You haven't left Andresín unattended, have you? –

– Don't worry, he's still asleep –

– Well, tell me then –

– You see, Don Antonio, I've come to complain about my Andresín. –

"But that's no great feat, Tomasa. Every day, half the town comes to complain about the same thing. Yesterday, Sunday, at Don Justo's son's communion, they had to eat their afternoon churros with soda. Everything points to his son drinking all the chocolate he could and hiding the rest. Because wouldn't he have drunk it all?"

Tomasa's gaze made it clear that she did not rule out that possibility at all.

– Anyway, tell me.

"Look, Don Antonio, I'm old, and since my husband died, I have to look after my Andresín all the time, and I can't do it anymore! I just can't! Couldn't you find him some little job to keep him occupied? I don't even have to pay him."

– I'll see what I can do. I have to go now, I have a meeting.

Needless to say, Don Antonio never thought about that conversation again. The next day, when he arrived at the town hall, he found Tomasa waiting for him at the door. "My God!" he muttered to himself.

– Don Antonio, have you looked for anything for my Andresín? – he said, walking towards him with long strides.

The mayor, seeing that the lady was determined to wait for him every morning until he found a job for her son, and realizing he wouldn't be able to get rid of her, replied.

– Tell Andresín to come see me this morning –

– Oh, Don Antonio! May God bless you! – And like a soul being carried away by the devil, he headed towards his house.

Barely half an hour had passed when Andresín, his hair wet and slicked back as if a cow had licked it, appeared before the mayor. A white shirt, dark suit, and tie—rather tight, I might add—completed the simple, disheveled look of the twenty-something. The buttons on his jacket looked as if they might pop off at any moment; since his father's death, the boy had perfected his gluttony.

– Do you give your permission, Don Antonio? –

“Come in, Andresín,” the mayor said, approaching the boy and putting his arm around his shoulder. After all, the boy wasn't bad, just a little mischievous, but the whole town liked him. “I think I know what I'm going to put you to do. I'm going to appoint you Deputy.” The boy's eyes lit up. He didn't know what his job would entail, but it sounded good. The Deputy.

– And what does my job consist of, Don Antonio? – asked the boy.

– Very easy, Andresín – You sit in a chair they'll put for you by the entrance, and if someone is missing, you take their place –

– And how long will I be employed, Don Antonio? –

– Let's say about three months to start the trial –

– And could you write it down for me on a piece of paper so I can show it to my mother?

– Sure, here you go – and on an official sheet from the town hall he wrote what his function was and in a sensational oversight he signed and sealed it.

At eight o'clock the next morning, Andresín was standing by the entrance door of the town hall. Pen in hand, he was taking note of each and every worker who came in.

Good morning, may I have your name?

And little by little, he took note of everyone who had come in to carry out their daily tasks. Curiously, and this was quite normal in the town, the most important officials of the town hall always arrived either late or the following day.

Around nine o'clock, when Andresín thought that the man who hadn't shown up wasn't going to, he saw the police chief approaching him. Although everyone knew each other in that small town, the young man formally followed the protocol he himself had created; he asked everyone for their name, surname, and occupation.

– Hello Mr. Agustín, could you give me your name and your position at the town hall? –

– Let's see, Andresín, don't you know perfectly well who I am and what I do for a living? Besides, you just called me by my name!

– Yes, but I have to ask everyone –

"Let's see," said the bewildered policeman, "what the hell are you making up now?"

"No way, I'm working." And, flashing a broad smile, he said, "I'm the substitute."

"A replacement? And who are you supposed to be replacing, you crazy little head?" said the police chief with a smirk and a mocking tone.

– I will replace anyone who doesn't come to work. Look, I have it here in writing and signed by the mayor.

Don Agustín's face went from one color to another. What could the mayor have been thinking, signing something like that? Gripping his baton and pistol, he bounded up to the mayor's office like a nimble, limping gazelle. When he arrived, he confirmed his worst fears. The mayor hadn't arrived yet, as usual. Without wasting a second, he called him.

- Tell me -

– Don Antonio?

– For God's sake, Agustín, what's so urgent that it can't wait until noon? –

"It's nearly ten o'clock, Don Antonio, and since ten to eight, Tomasa's son has been standing at the town hall door taking note of everyone who comes in and out."

– Well, that sounds great to me, that way neither the mother nor the son will bother me anymore – he said, sitting down on the bed.

"It seems to me you're unaware of the problem that's looming. Yesterday you signed a document appointing you as your replacement."

Don Antonio jumped up. Suddenly, a bad feeling came over him. As if he hadn't acted sensibly the day before.

"Well," continued the police chief, "I can tell you that the only ones who haven't come to work today are the treasurer, the secretary, and, of course, the mayor."

– Well – he tried to excuse himself – yesterday I had guests at home and the evening went on a bit longer –

"Mr. Mayor," he continued, "you and I both know how much work goes into this town hall, and you weren't even on time for your inauguration. So don't make excuses. What I'm trying to say is, I don't know if you realize the mess Andresín could make with the town's coffers, even if he's just standing in for the treasurer for half an hour. It would be disastrous!"

For a moment, Don Antonio felt as if he were being stoned by the inhabitants of San Marcos de la Jara. A drop of cold sweat trickled down his back as he thought he saw his life flash before his eyes.

– Don't worry, Agustín, I'll be there in ten minutes. In the meantime, keep him busy. Have him make photocopies of the Constitution or the Official State Gazette.

After a while, Don Antonio entered the town hall, visibly worried. Next to the photocopier was his worst nightmare.

– Andresín – he shouted – to my office –

The boy, who seemed to have woken up since the previous day, left the enormous constitutional book on a table and, whistling some unrecognizable tune, followed the mayor.

He, steeling himself, smiled at him. "I've thought I'd make you a better gardener. I'm sure the plants will appreciate your care."

"I'm sorry, Don Antonio, but I'm allergic to pollen from almost all of them. I'd rather stay where I am."

– Don't worry. You'll paint the lines on the sports field. I might have to extend your contract to four months.

– That would be nice. Extending my contract. But you see, Don Antonio, this business of bending my back… well, it's not for me. I fell off a mule when I was a boy, and I can't bend my spine.

"Well," the mayor's patience waned in proportion to the reddening of his face, "then you're going to be taking the letters to the post office every day."

"You see, Don Antonio, Don Justo works there, and the other day he swore he'd rip my head off the moment he saw me because I left his son without chocolate on his First Communion. And you know how rough he is. I think it's best if I stay where I am. Besides, my mother is embroidering two shirts for me that say 'Andresín Pérez - Substitute.' And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to work; I don't think the secretary and treasurer have arrived yet."

Turning on his heel, he left the mayor standing there speechless. Slowly, he reached for the phone and called the police chief, still in shock.

– Agustín, urgently send a letter to every single employee at this town hall. Starting tomorrow, everyone must be punctual. More than punctual! They must be here at ten minutes to eight. And no excuses whatsoever. No taking the dog to Don Basilio's or the children to daycare. They should hire someone to do it. And tell the secretary and the treasurer personally. I want to see them here within half an hour.

Feeling somewhat recovered, and regaining color in his face, he slowly hung up the phone.

The news spread like wildfire, and two days later, every retiree was at their doorstep watching the town hall workers enter on time for the first time in the town's history. This included the mayor and treasurer, notorious revelers who usually arrived at the town hall after closing time.

"Come on, come on, let's get to work!" they shouted, laughing. "Here comes Andresín with the pen!"

It was astonishing how someone as simple as Andresín had managed to get the entire town hall working. The townspeople, fascinated, gathered in front of the town hall the day before that bizarre contract was due to expire, a contract that listed Tomasa's son as the substitute for anyone who missed work. No one would budge them from there until Don Antonio promised to renew the boy's contract. The mayor, knowing how ruthless the people of San Marcos could be, where problems weren't settled in court, agreed.

All in all, it had to be acknowledged that things were going better. That chubby twenty-something might have indirectly helped him get re-elected as mayor.

– Long live Don Antonio! – Andresín shouted, contract in hand, on his way home.

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