The American and The Brit: Unsolicited Advice

by K A Young

  “What time is it?” I barked in Liz’s direction, causing her to jump.

  “God, why are you shouting at me?” she squeaked in a brittle voice before checking her watch.

  “Because I’m nervous as hell and am having a massive panic attack. Now what the hell time is it? And for God’s sake, please don’t cry!” If she started crying so would I, and this day would officially be our last.

  “I’m not going to cry. It’s a quarter ‘til eight.” Liz’s bottom lip began to quiver.

  This was getting out of hand and I had to do something, anything, to try to pull us together before we blew this opportunity. “We have plenty of time,” I said in a tone that sounded tight to my own ears. The stress was getting to me in a major way. “Everything’s going to be fine.” I pulled back into traffic. I gave my idea a two second consideration as I white knuckled the wheel before making a spontaneous U-turn.

  “I know it is,” she sniffed. “Oh my God, Phoebe! What are you doing? The office is that way!”

  “I know, I just need to make a quick stop first.” Before Liz could utter another word and having nearly missed the turn off to my destination I floored it, flying across the highway right past oncoming traffic.

  Liz screamed and braced herself for impact as I swerved into the parking lot with one eye shut. Wilf came to a sudden halt in a small space in front of the building. Liz, who had hid her face, finally scrounged up enough courage to look up. Her eyes widened in shock before she shouted, “A fucking liquor store! You nearly killed us both for some alcohol?”

  Opening the car door I shouted back, “Yes. I mean, no, I had everything under control.”

  “Control? Phoebe, you don’t know the meaning of the word! You’re a walking disaster and you’re dragging me down with you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “This is too much, Phoebe Hawkins.”

  “I’m not the one who just had a full-blown temper tantrum, Liz.” She looked out the window, turning from me in defiance. “We need help—neither of us is going to make it at this rate without a little liquid courage. Bullshitting at an interview is one thing, but they’re going to expect us to do the actual job today! Do you have any other suggestions? Because if you do I’m totally open to them.”

  “We are not going to show up to work on our first day intoxicated, Phoebe!” Liz turned and glared at me. Her eyes bugged so far out of her head she looked like a Pekingese.

  “I’m not advocating for a drunken first day. I have a plan. You know me, I don’t do anything half-assed.” I stepped out of the car and stuck my backside out in her direction. “When I do something I use my whole ass!” After I slammed the door I sauntered toward the liquor store.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Liz grumbled before crawling over and shouting out the drivers’ side window. “Please take into account the size of your ass before you decide to use the whole thing!” She laughed so hard at her own comment she snorted. The double bird is how I responded before I opened the door and entered the store. At least her mood was improving.

  With my head held high I marched directly up to the counter and grabbed an assortment of the mini bottles of liquor they had on display and smiled brightly at the middle-aged man behind the counter. “Company Christmas party.”

  He grinned and began to ring up my items. “It’s a strange time of year to be having a Christmas party.”

  Of course it was. Well, shit. Scratching my ever-growing hives I blurted loudly, “We’re having it early because …um... one of our coworkers is...um…” think you idiot, “dying.” Yikes, I cringed. “Yeah and since she’s, um, going to be dead at the err…um, Christmas we’re having it early.” My face was red as a beet and I was starting to sweat some more which wasn’t good. I had to get out of there.

  “Oh, that’s terrible.” He was smirking now. Ass.

  It took two tries to gain purchase on my driver’s license from the counter after I paid and grabbed my bag. “It’s really none of your damn business, anyway,” I managed to croak before I speed walked out of the store.

  The second I reached Wilf I jerked open the door and flung the bag toward Liz, and fired up Wilf. As I pulled back onto the road Liz stared at me, horrified. “What? What now?” I asked, not able to take much more. “You’re not still mad at me, are you? We’re fine, nothing happened, and you have my word I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “No, it’s not that.” She waved her hand dismissively before pointing at my arm. “You have pools of sweat under your armpits!”

  “Oh. My. God.” I was so upset now I was on the verge of tears.

  “It’s okay.” Liz soothed and started tearing through the console. Not finding what she was after, she went into the glove compartment and emerged with her hands full of napkins “We’ll fix this.” She unlatched her seat belt and began stuffing the napkins inside my jacket under my armpits. “Lift your hands higher on to the steering wheel. I need your arms up more.” As I drove down the road with my hands at eleven and one on the wheel Liz furiously tried to dry my armpits. At the next red light, we received the strangest look from other drivers. I lifted both middle fingers to show the bitches what I thought of them and Liz scolded, “Stop that—we’re professional women now. We can’t behave like savages anymore.”

  “What planet are you living on? Look at us!” My heart palpitated out of my chest, and I was thankful we made it to the office before I had my full-blown heart attack.

  “There is nothing wrong with us.” She moved back to her seat. “I stopped the spreading—you’ll just have to keep your arms by your side today at all times.” It only took a few seconds for her to get over her aversion of my relaxant idea; she opened one of the bottles of liquor and swigged it down. “Yuck! Why did you get coconut rum?”

  My hand was deep in the bag. “I didn’t even look at what I grabbed—the damn guy at the register was giving me the third degree. I had to get the hell out of there. He thought I was an alcoholic.” I opened a bottle of vodka and downed it, then went for another.

  Liz slapped my hand. “No, just one.” She looked at her watch, it was eight on the nose. “Okay, two and a half. But that’s it, agreed?”

  “Agreed.” I swigged my half out of the whisky, then handed it to her and she did the same before cracking open another bottle. Feeling much better, I smiled. “Ready?”

  “Oh, hell yeah!” She burped. “No more flavored rum—yuck.”

  The cool morning air felt great against my cheeks, and although I was still slightly flushed the hives were gone and that made me feel loads better. As I caught our reflection in the window I stood up a little straighter. “We really are dressed for success and as long as I kept my arms down I look the part.”

  “Damn straight. Totally worth nearly maxing out a credit card.”

  Liz opened the door and she and I with our new-found courage walked in as if we owned the place. “Good morning,” I greeted the receptionist with a smile. She nodded in response and I realized that she was on the phone. We made our way through the building toward our offices, pausing at the coffee bar. Oh, the coffee and pastries smelled delicious. My stomach rumbled in agreement—a sure sign that I might have overdone it with the liquid courage. I was always ravenous when I’d had a little too much to drink. Food, yes; food and coffee would help. Liz was having the same problem as I; she was nearly face first in the pastries, sniffing loudly.

  “Mmm,” she groaned and then stood.

  “Can I get you ladies something?” the young woman behind the bar asked with a giggle.

  “Yes, we’ll have a couple of those pastries, a black coffee for Liz and a latte for me.” I smiled as my mouth salivated.

  “And one of those twisty cinnamon things,” Liz added with a grin.

  She handed us each our order. Liz took a huge bite of hers and I was nearly groaning in pleasure as the gooey goodness of my bearclaw caressed my taste buds. Suddenly Liz stopped chewing with a strange look on her face as she nodded toward my purse,
a signal she didn’t have any money on her. Never having much cash I didn’t either, and I didn’t see any way she could take my bank card. “Are these free?” Unable to swallow, I mumbled around a mouthful.

  Liz and I both stared at her as we waited for a response. She gave us both an odd look and slowly said, “Yes.” Liz let out a sigh of relief and continued eating her cinnamon pastry.

  “Of course they’re free.” I fake laughed and bumped Liz’s shoulder. She began to cough and I patted her on the back. After she recovered from her choking fit she began to fake laugh with me. We sounded like a couple of idiots. This was a good job though. Free coffee and pastry every single day was a major score. That would sure save us on the grocery bill.

  Suddenly the girl laughed. “You’re The American and The Brit! They told me you guys were a riot.” Taking our coffees, we grinned and retreated to our offices. After greeting Chrissi briefly Liz went into hers and I into mine.

  A few minutes later I’d devoured all the pastry and coffee and wasn’t feeling well at all. My stomach churned from all the sugar and alcohol stupidly topped off with caffeine. As I swiveled in my chair, I prayed it would go away. Luckily I still wasn’t exactly sober, so I wasn’t freaking out about it. Yet. My desk was completely empty except for a phone, laptop and a new nameplate that I had to admit excited me to no end. I reached into my purse, extracted my phone and went around the desk and snapped a couple shots of the nameplate. Then I hopped on the desk for a couple of selfies. Checking the images, I was thrilled. This was so going on Facebook.

  The phone on my desk began rang, startling me. Slipping off the desk and onto the floor with a thud, my stomach churned and to my horror a tiny fart slipped out. Oh. My. God. Scrambling to my feet I cringed. It was so bad I feared it would peel the paint right off the walls. My cheeks heated up; I lifted the receiver and hit the flashing red button. “Hello?” I whispered.

  “Phoebe! You there?” Liz yelled into the receiver, obviously still enjoying her buzz.

  “Yes,” I answered tentatively.

  “What’s wrong?” Liz’s tremulous tone traveled through the receiver.

  “I have a little situation over here,” I said, holding my nose.

  “I’m coming over.” Before I could hang up the phone she was barreling through the door. “Oh bloody hell!” She shut the door and pinched her nose. “Is that you?”

  “No, it’s the septic tank under my desk. Of course it’s me! What am I going to do?” I stood and the two of us with our noses pinched with our fingers began looking around for a candle, some air freshener, anything to get rid of the horrific odor in this room.

  “Damn cheap bastards,” I muttered. “If they’d given me an office with a window I could open it.”

  “Why do you stink so bad? This is not good timing, Phoebe!” Liz shook her head.

  “I know it’s not good timing. You think I planned this?” Was she out of her mind?

  “Wait,” Liz interjected, “I bet they have some air freshener in the powder room I’ll be right back.” She very carefully opened the door enough to squeeze through and slammed it shut.

  While I waited I grabbed a file out of the desk drawer and began waving it around the room.

  When she came back through the door her hand went back to her nose, as she began spraying the office with some type of apple spice. “There, that’s better.” She released her nose.

  I did the same and nearly gagged “It smells like apples and shit! Now my office smells like apple shit!”

  “It’s way better than it was before,” she said, a bit miffed.

  “I can’t take this—let’s go to your office,” I grumbled and hurried for the door.

  “Why, so you can shite up mine?” She wasn’t budging.

  “Don’t be like that. Some friend you are! Let’s go.” I attempted to shove past her.

  “Fine, but we’ve got to get you some Gas-X.” She’d get no argument from me.

  A knock at the door startled us both as we heard Chrissi enter Liz’s office. I peeked my head in and saw that she carried a tablet and was flipping through it. Not finding Liz she started for my office. She stopped halfway through the door and sniffed, looking puzzled. “Oh, what’s that horrible smell?”

  Liz looked around and tried to act oblivious while hiding the air freshener behind her back. I chose to go with a different tactic. “That’s what I would like to know.” I folded my arms across my chest and tried not to appear guilty.

  “I bet it was that nasty custodian, he always smells.” Chrissi offered. Liz and I started nodding in agreement even though we had no idea who she was referring to. I was so ready for this moment to be over. “Anyway, here you go.” She handed me a stack of papers, still sniffing the air. “There you will find your website address, email and passwords. You'll also find all the submissions there." With a smile she left the office.

  Thankful she bought my fib. I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God she didn’t think that was us.”

  “You, not us.” Liz looked at the printout “What, no letters for us to go through?” She looked at me.

  “Everything here is going green, Liz. It cuts down on office overhead if everything is handled electronically. I don’t even get my utility bills by snail mail anymore except when they’re overdue. Then they send two—one to my email and the other to my home address.”

  “Huh Things are different back home.” She shrugged. “Well fart arse, we'd better get to work." Liz pushed me back into my office and opened the bi-fold doors so we had one huge open space. She popped open the window in her office and exaggerated a sigh of relief when the fresh air hit her. "You ready?"

  "As I'll ever be!" I replied while I headed to my desk and flipped the laptop open.

  American and Brit

  Dear The American and the Brit,

  My second son has a serious mole problem. He has several growing on his face, his chest and back are nearly covered and they all have long hairs growing out of them. I've been at him for years to sort them out but he won't.

  Please help.

  Troubled Mum from the UK

  Dear Troubled Mum,

  That’s just sick! And you’re a sick freak for bringing it up.

  Thanks for ruining our lunch,

  The American and The Brit

  Lizbeth

  There’s Nowt Stranger Than Folk

  The email and password from Chrissi worked brilliantly and I was shocked to see the box was full. "Bloody hell, six-hundred and forty-eight emails." I looked up at Phoebe, who was staring at her laptop laughing to herself. She’d gotten into it faster than I had.

  "Listen to this one," she chuckled. "Dear American and Brit. I really need some advice. My husband wants us to spice up our sex life by adding fetish play into the bedroom.”

  "That's not too bad. Perfectly normal." I opened an email.

  "Yeah, but what about this?" she continued. "He wants her to dress up like barnyard animals and take it like one.” This got my attention. "She, she, she..." Phoebe was now laughing so hard she couldn't catch her breath. "She said...” Phoebe paused as she tried desperately to catch her breath. Her giggles were crossing into the uncontrollable level now. I just prayed she wouldn't fart again.

  “She didn't mind the furry cow costume and doing all the mooing but she refuses to be a pig. They’re such filthy animals." Phoebe was now doubled over with tears streaming down her face. "She'll be a cow, but not a pig because the pig is filthy." She accidentally grunted in between laughs and that sent me over the edge. I too held my stomach, laughing so hard I thought I might actually wet myself.

  "This must be a joke, first day pranks and all that." The two of us were out of control and needed to sober up more. We needed coffee stat.

  "Ask Butts!" Phoebe managed to squeak out.

  “Butts?” Through my slightly drunken haze it finally registered that she was referring to our secretary, and I doubled over again.

  “Stop it, Phoebe.” I wip
ed my eyes. “Really, do you think I should?”

  “Yes.” Phoebe composed herself. “That’s what she’s here for.”

  After I pressed the little blue button on the phone I waited for Chrissi to answer. "Yes, Lizbeth, can I get you anything?"

  It took a minute but I finally composed myself enough to ask, "Could you come in here for a moment, please?" Wow, I was really getting the hang of this job, I thought, impressed with myself.

  "Sure, be right there." Ten seconds later Chrissi entered, looking cheerful again and I wondered what she had to be so happy about. "What's up?"

  Phoebe tapped her screen and asked, "Who came up with this one? It's hilarious."

  Chrissi’s face was the picture of confusion and I knew we’d been completely wrong in our assumptions. "I don't know what you mean. Those are the problem letters I gave you access to. They have been coming in since we opened for business. Gary asked me to keep them all so the new hires could have their choice as to what goes to print." Oh. My. God! I stood corrected. This girl was deadly serious. These were the letters we were supposed to advise on? The shock must have been evident on my face. "Is there something wrong?"

  "No, no, everything is perfect, Chrissi. Thank you." I tried to salvage the moment as Chrissi backed out of the office, eyeing the two of us with confusion.

  “This is the job?” Phoebe’s eyes were wide with astonishment. “Liz, we don’t have to come up with answers to real problems. I mean, really what sort of idiots send in this shit?” She giggled a bit more. “We are so going to rock this job. All we need to do is keep our head down and hope to God no one finds out we are impostors,” She leaned in and whispered loudly enough for me to hear her at my desk. She acted all Secret Agent Man like and winked. “American and Brit.” She must still be a bit tipsy. “No!” She leaned back and clapped her hands as if stumbling upon an epiphany. “We’re the new and improved American and Brit!”