by Jamie Knight
The office space is massive. A reception desk sits front and center when I exit the elevator, and comfortable chairs line either wall. Two hallways split off on either side of the reception area.
One is filled with glass-walled conference rooms, a few of which are filled with men in suits. The second hallway is lined with closed office doors, each one labeled with a nameplate that I can’t read from this distance.
The only other person in the lobby is a raven-haired woman who looks to be about five years older than me. Competition? Shit. She looks relaxed…and hot. She’s wearing a dark skirt with borderline “fuck me” heels, a red blouse, and lipstick to match.
There’s no one behind the reception desk. So, I sit on the other side of the room, exchanging a slight nod and guarded smile with the dark-haired woman.
We don’t have to wait long, as it turns out. A thirty-something guy in a suit with close-cropped, spiked hair breezes in a few minutes later. The hair almost sets off alarm bells in my head - it’s way too close to Charles’ greasy, sleazeball style. But those alarms are overwhelmed by the chant of “get a job” that’s been echoing around my brain for the past couple of weeks.
“Ahh, you’re both early! That’s excellent.” The guy flashes a smile at us. “Mariah and… Kristy, right?” he points to each of us, correctly, in turn.
Kristy nods and stands, so I do the same.
“Great. I’m Robert. RJ to my friends, Mr. Thompson to my employees.” He gestures to us to join him. “Follow me this way, ladies. Thanks for coming in. There’s no need to be nervous; we don’t bite. Mostly.”
He laughs at his own joke, and he’s the only one. That makes me feel a little better about Kristy as a person, at least.
We head down the left hallway, past several of the conference rooms, until we reach one with a massive flat screen TV hanging on the wall. There are two more thirty-somethings in suits sitting inside, watching a basketball game on the screen.
“Right in here, ladies.” He sits on one side of the conference table, with the two other suits. Kristy and I sit together on the other side. I had no idea we would both be interviewed at the same time. Talk about pressure.
“This is the hiring committee. Myself, Mr. Matthews, and Mr. Benson. There are two of you, and one open position. This interview will determine which of you leaves the building alive.”
“What?!” Kristy and I ask the same incredulous question at the same moment. The three men stare at us, then break into peals of laughter.
“We’re sorry,” the one named Benson manages. “Just a little joke we like to play on new hires. There are actually two positions open, and you two seem like the perfect candidates. We decided to cut down time but having you both come in at once. You just need you to answer a few questions, chat with us a little bit - you know, make sure you’re the kind of people we want to see every day when we come in to work.”
“You’re too hot to fight each other, anyway. What’re you gonna do, hit each other with your purses?” Matthews says, laughing.
Geez. I can’t believe how openly sexist they’re being. But, I remind myself to stay quiet, since I really need a job – and a better place to wash my laundry.
“Basically, we need a few extra hands around the office. Manning the reception desk, answering phones, delivering mail, that kind of thing.” RJ steers the conversation back towards actual work, which I’m grateful for. “It may not seem like much, but it’ll really help us out around here.”
“Especially when our wives are too tired to - ” Benson starts to whisper, but a look from RJ cuts him off. I make a mental note to keep him at arm’s length (at least) if I start working here.
“And there’s enough pay for both of us?” Kristy finally speaks up.
“Of course there is!” Matthews chimes in. “Everyone in this room knows we’re one of the top firms in the city. We pay plenty… unless you’d rather be grinding beans at Starbucks.”
This whole thing is starting to seem a little odd to me. But work is work, I remind myself. And somehow, we haven’t even really had to go through as intensive an interview process as I was expecting. That seems like a good thing… until it becomes clear why.
“All right, ladies. We’ve looked over your resumes, and you both seem fit for the jobs, so let’s get started, why don’t we? Kristy, you’ll take over reception duties, and Mariah… you’ll be our floor girl. Deliveries, coffee, that sort of thing. Here are the required uniforms.” RJ reaches down to a plastic bag beside his chair and pulls out two outfits as the other guys try to hold back chuckles.
The “uniforms” are less actual work outfits, and more “Naughty Catholic Schoolgirl” Halloween costumes. Short skirts, knee-high socks, and white, almost transparent blouses.
“You’re kidding,” Kristy bursts out, thankfully beating me to it. I may be desperate for work, but I’m not stupid. This’ll be less a job, and more a glorified cocktail waitressing gig.
“No, I’m not.” RJ smiles at her. “Company policy. Is that a problem?”
For a second, it looks like it will be - but then Kristy deflates. “No.” she says thinly, taking the outfit. I do the same. I’m not any happier about it than she seems to be, but a job is a job is a job. At least for a little while.
“Great!” Benson chimes in. “We’ll see you both bright and early tomorrow morning, then.”
RJ stands, extending his hand. “Welcome to the company, girls. Looking forward to seeing more of you both.”
“A lot more.” Matthews adds, smirking.
Grabbing my uniform from the table, I follow Kristy out of the conference room.
Well. This should be fun.
Chapter 10
Wesley
“What do you mean, we’re at less than sixty percent?”
I knew calling the office to check in was going to be a mistake before I picked up the phone, but I did it anyway. That’s the workaholic in me, I suppose. Sure enough, the news that I’m greeted with is less than ideal.
“Sorry, Boss, those are the numbers.” The voice on the other end of the line belongs to my assistant, John Noto. “We’re close on a few deals that’ll start making up the difference - the Tyler property has half a dozen offers out, and we’re leveraging that into a bidding war; the Lindholm estate is nearly closed…”
“And?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
John’s been my office assistant for years now, and I know better than to berate him for issues that he can’t control. Still, you’d think I could take one week off without everything grinding to a halt.
“Well, that’s it on the estate side. You should know, though, a few of the senior sales guys…”
“What about them?” My pulse quickens. Plenty of other companies spend way too much of their time trying to poach my top guys - and the last thing I need right now is for one of them to be successful.
“They’ve hired two new assistants. For reception, and someone to do coffee rounds and things like that.”
“You’re kidding.” I sit back in the suite’s desk chair, practically feeling my eyes wanting to roll back into my head. “We’re hemorrhaging money from a lack of sales, and the sales team has decided that the way to make up for that is by hiring new people? And for useless positions, at that. What, we can’t pour our own coffee? It’s a complete waste of money.”
“That’s what I told them you’d say. But listening to me isn’t really something they’re all that interested in. Especially when the alternative is hiring two attractive young women.”
“Ugh. All right. Thanks for the heads up, John.”
I hang up the phone, lean back in my chair, and stare at the ceiling. I can’t even leave the office for a week without things going up in flames, apparently. And hiring a coffee girl? Really? Not only is it ridiculous, it smacks of desperation on their parts.
Hiring a woman for a job that doesn’t really exist, just so they can try to find tail without leaving the office? Not onl
y is it a gross misuse of power, but it’s also truly scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to dating techniques. Hearing about it is just making me more and more certain that I want something real, not some manufactured relationship or hookup that I grab onto just because it’s right there in front of me, in easy reach.
I’d secretly been hoping that this little vacation would be the thing I needed to kickstart a relationship like that. New place, new people, no responsibilities… plenty of time to meet new women and get to know them, maybe even long enough to fall for one.
As it turns out, though, this resort is the last place for that to happen. Every woman I’ve met in the last six days has had either a boyfriend on their arm or a ring on their finger. It’s been a total waste.
“Maybe I should just give up,” I say to the empty room. “Just quit chasing some dream that doesn’t exist, and go back to focusing on what does.”
By that, I mean my work. This is the first vacation I’ve taken in… God, I don’t even know how many years. And the second I left, things apparently started crumbling. If that’s not proof that I belong behind a desk managing my company, I don’t know what is.
“That settles it then.” The remnants of last night’s cocktail are still sitting in a glass on the desk. I grab the drink and toss it back, in an attempt at a decisive gesture. This just results in a spit-take, as I realize that the sweet liquid doesn’t taste even remotely good after sitting out all night.
I wipe my tongue on my sleeve, and stand up. “Back to work, Wesley.”
Chapter 11
Mariah
Leaving the office that night with the uniform (if you can call it that) and the required paperwork under my arm, I’m somehow less thrilled than I expected to be. This is a job, I remind myself, A real job. With a real estate agency.
But then I look at the intake paperwork again, and remember why I’m less than perfectly thrilled: the job barely pays enough per week for me to make my extended-stay motel rent, let alone to live comfortably long enough for me to save up some real money until I make my first sale.
“It’s a start,” I murmur. “It’s a start.”
Plus, it’s set hours, so I could always find other part time work to make up the difference. Well, less ‘could’ find and more ‘must’ find, really. But you know what? I’ve made it this far; I’m not going to get weak now.
“Two jobs it is,” I declare to myself and the derelict bus stop bench that’s next to me on the sidewalk.
Continuing to walk down the street, back towards my motel, I try to remember what I know about Gruber Realty from the time I spent in my dad’s office. There’s not much left in my memory, other than that the President’s name is something ‘Drive.’
Well, that’s a good sign. Nobody named Drive is going to be lazy or unmotivated, and that’s the kind of work environment I crave: one where I can work hard all day, learn, be my best, and earn my way up the ladder. One where I can prove to Charles and my father that I can do it - even if I have to wear a miniskirt to get started.
Part of me wishes I could call my dad right now and brag to him that I’m on my way, but I know perfectly well that he’d want details… and every aspect of this job would either enrage him or make him laugh. Being employed by his biggest competitor in the city would make him feel furious and betrayed, and the fact that I’m just the office coffee-girl wouldn’t do much either.
In his mind, that would just prove the point that what I’m doing is wrong, and that Gruber is no place for me to do it, anyway. I don’t need that negativity getting in my way. Just imagining it is bad enough; actually hearing it would be worse.
So, radio silence with the family it is. Now to find other work so I won’t get evicted.
With that settled, I keep walking - and almost immediately stop, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding me.”
Across the street, there’s a dilapidated little diner that looks as though it’s been wedged in its alleyway for the last 50 years, and hasn’t been cleaned in at least 30. And in the dirty glass door? There’s a sign: HELP WANTED.
Seizing a gap in traffic, I dart across the road and into the diner. It’s dimly lit, quiet except for the music playing through speakers and the clink and clatter of a few patrons finishing coffee or a meal.
“Hey there, doll. Just grab a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you, m’kay?” The guy behind the counter is willow-thin, African-American, and has a quirky smile that lights up his eyes when he looks at me. He can’t be more than thirty.
“Well, actually, I’m not here to eat,” I manage before he turns away.
“Oh, you’re not here lookin’ for Tia, are you? ‘Cuz she moved about three blocks away after the last time the cops poked their heads in here.”
“Um, no. I don’t know Tia. I’m actually here about the, ah, ‘help wanted’ sign? In the window?”
Why am I feeling more nervous here than I was at the office? Maybe because this is the last piece of the puzzle for now, and if I don’t get it, I’m really jammed up?
“Well then, that’s a whole different conversation, isn’t it?” The guy flashes that crooked grin again and leans on the counter. “Pull up a stool, huh?”
I sit down across the counter from him, not quite sure what to expect.
“I’m Sterling. And you are?” He looks at me expectantly.
“Mariah,” I answer. “I have a copy of my resume here if you’d like to see it.”
“Girl. This is a diner. And a shitty little one, at that. We don’t really know the meaning of the word ‘resume’ here.”
I nod along, getting the sense that this place is quite different from the one I just left up the street.
“So, why you want to work here?” Sterling asks, leaning on the counter between us.
I scramble internally for an answer. This whole thing was a random happenstance. I didn’t prepare for this - I certainly wasn’t expecting to be sitting in my second interview of the day at 8 p.m., let alone sitting for it at a diner counter. Oh well.
“Because I’m good with people. I think working in a place like this would be great for me, a fantastic experience - ”
“Lemme just stop you right there.” Sterling raises a hand that’s adorned with what looks to be half a dozen different silver rings. “You may be a pretty girl, but you’re a terrible liar. So, one more time, why you want to work here?”
He’s caught me full out, and I have no idea what to do. That’s never happened to me before. Preparation has always been my motto, and the one time I needed to follow it the most, I pull a stunt like this? Idiot.
With nothing else left in the holster, I’m reduced to doing the one thing I really don’t want to do: telling him the truth. “Because I need the money,” I blurt out, and that starts the avalanche.
It all pours out: how my dad wants to marry me off to some loser, how I challenged him, left home, how I just came from getting a part time job, but how in order to keep it I’d need another one that I could use to make enough money to buy groceries and get laundry quarters -
“- and then I was walking by and I saw the sign in the window and I just went for it. And now I’m here,” I finish, somehow breathing hard.
“Huh.” Sterling picks himself up off his elbows. “Okay. You’re hired. See you on Thursday night at six.”
“Wait, what? Don’t you need to check with a manager or something before you hire me?”
Why would you ask that, you idiot? I immediately scold myself. Just close your mouth and be thankful you didn’t get laughed out of here!
Sterling chuckles, looking over his shoulder at me as he grabs two plates from the kitchen window. “Honey. I am the manager. And the owner, and most of the staff. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that when you come in for your first day, kay?”
I just nod, and let myself out. Back on the street, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Two jobs in one day. I pulled it off. I try not to let it overwhelm me that getting two jobs in
one day now probably means doing two jobs every day.
It’s not like I’m a stranger to working hard, but this is the first time it’s really felt important…it’s not like when I was interning at Dad’s company that I’d get fired if I made a mistake. My dad owned the company after all. At worst, he’d usually say, “Do it again, okay? Right this time.”
I have a feeling that the staff at Gruber won’t be so lenient. Not to mention the fact that I’ve never served a meal to anyone in my life, and have no idea what working in a diner actually entails.
Plus, there’s the odd bird that is Sterling. I can appreciate his flamboyance and quick smile for sure, but I’m also not sure what to make of him as a boss. He doesn’t look that much older than me… then again, he said he was the owner.
Maybe I can learn some things from him that’ll help me at the real estate office? And the sooner I learn things that’ll help me there, the sooner I’ll be able to climb the ladder and get a better paying position, so I won’t have to worry about the diner job at all anymore, anyway.
My thoughts take me all the way back to the motel. It’s not until I’m on the way up the steps to my room that the adrenaline high I’ve been riding for the last several hours subsides, and I’m left feeling suddenly exhausted.
Tossing my business clothes off, I slip into my favorite long t-shirt, flip on the TV, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. Not the healthiest dinner in the world, but it’s about the only staple I have left in the room. Groceries are going to be the priority when my first check comes in.
While eating, I still have to resist the urge to call Dad and tell him that I landed two jobs in one day. When I was a kid, all the way up through high school and college, he was my constant confidant. I told him almost everything, and he told me most of what went on at his office.
Which is one of the reasons why I was so sure he was going to name me his eventual successor at the company… suddenly, all the resentment and righteous anger I’d felt that day rushes back into me.