"Your name is Charlize Theron? From South Africa?" Zane asked, looking up from her resume. The young woman in front of him was dressed in simple, almost plain clothes. But she still had a natural beauty that she couldn't hide.
"Yes, sir," she said. Her voice sounded both determined and nervous. "I'm an actress, but I'm just starting. I mostly do background work. I only have acting classes at night, so it won't get in the way of my work during the day, I promise."
She clearly needed a job badly. She was very different from the confident Hollywood queen she would one day become. Zane's mind quickly, and without meaning to, did the math. He remembered her face from countless big movies and award shows. The Devil's Advocate, Mad Max: Fury Road, an Oscar winner... How much money she would have in the future was amazing. He filed that information away as an interesting fact for later.
"Don't worry," she added quickly. She was afraid his silence meant he was going to say no. "I'm a very hard worker. I won't let you down."
"I believe you," Zane said. He had already made his decision. He'd seen Jobs and Lasseter when they were worried; a nervous, undiscovered movie star wasn't going to shake him. "The job is yours if you want it. The pay is $400 a week for the first three months. Then it goes up to $500, with monthly bonuses and extra money based on sales. You can start next Monday."
"Yes! I can. Thank you," she said. A wave of real relief washed over her face.
The hiring process was fast and tough. By the end of the day, Zane had hired over twenty employees. That was enough to have workers at all seven stores. The monthly payroll alone would be over $30,000. It was a scary reminder of how much money he was spending.
That evening, James came to Zane's house, buzzing with excitement.
"Boss, I've checked with the builders. All seven stores will be completely finished by this Friday," he announced. James was the new manager of the main store at the Hollywood Chinese Theatre. He cared a lot about how well the business did.
"Good. That means I have to move faster," Zane said. He was looking over a list of contacts. "I need you to keep a close eye on the quality of the work for the next few days. I'll be meeting with toy makers and getting our stock."
The next few days were a blur of activity. Zane's old job as a business analyst made him surprisingly good at handling all the hard work of setting up a store chain. He was good at talking with suppliers, filing for business papers, and making deals with other studios for their merchandise.
One evening, while buried in paperwork, a familiar chime rang in his mind.
[Ding!] [Congratulations, Host. A new system package has been received. Please review.]
"Well, look who's alive," Zane muttered. "I thought you'd gone to sleep." The system had been silent since the Pixar tip, and he'd almost forgotten about it.
"James, that's all for tonight," Zane said suddenly. He needed to be alone. "Just keep me updated daily."
As soon as his friend was out the door, Zane opened the system.
[Confirm to open package?]
"Confirm."
[Congratulations, Host. You have received the full creative and business rights to the animated series: SpongeBob SquarePants. The complete series has been put into your mind.]
Before he could react, a universe of color, sound, and story flooded his brain. It wasn't just data; it was a fully-formed world. He saw all the silly jokes, the funny characters, and the happy, hopeful humor. The process was shocking. It was a dizzying download of pure creative genius that left him breathless.
"Huff," he gasped, rubbing his head. "That feels terrible."
But the headache quickly faded. It was replaced by a feeling of pure, amazing wonder. He didn't just have the episodes; he had everything. He had the character designs, information on the creators, and marketing ideas. He held a complete, ready-to-produce show that he knew would become a worldwide hit and a merchandise-selling monster.
A wide grin spread across his face. "This is... so much better than a stock tip."
He made a decision right then. His stores needed a name, something better than "Zane's Movie Emporium."
On September 10, 1995, seven stores across Los Angeles opened their doors at the same time. They all had a bright, cheerful sign: SpongeBob's Secret Chest.
The grand opening was a small event. A few of Zane's old high school friends, some curious neighbors, and a very fancy-looking Condy Edward showed up. Condy didn't bring a gift, but he was very charming.
The first bit of excitement soon faded. The next two months were a hard lesson in how tough the store business really is. Business was slow. Compared to older, richer competitors, Zane's stores struggled to get customers. Their clean but simple, budget-friendly design wasn't enough. The warehouses began to fill up with toys that weren't selling.
One afternoon, James found Zane in his office. He looked very grim.
"Boss, the toy factory just called," he said. His voice was strained with worry. "We've filled five warehouses with their stuff, and our payment is late. They said if we don't pay up by the end of the week, they're taking us to court."
Zane listened calmly. His eyes were fixed on a calendar on his wall. "Tell them their money is coming," he said. His voice showed no sign of concern.
"Are you sure?" James pushed, getting more anxious. This job was his family's lifeline. "The losses are piling up. The staff is getting nervous."
Zane leaned back in his chair and turned to face him. His eyes were shining with a fire James had never seen before.
"James, what we've lost these past few months is nothing. It's just the cost of starting," he said. His voice was low and certain. "Don't worry about the factory. Don't worry about the losses."
He pointed to the calendar. "Worry about having enough staff on the floor tomorrow. Because Toy Story opens in less than 24 hours. And when it does, everything changes."
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