utterly out of money. Game over. I’m going to have to move back home – and spend the rest of my miserable life enduring ceaseless ‘Just start your own ——’ pep talks while my chore list exceeds Cinderella’s. I look down at my shaking hands, noticing Hair Gel Man’s prescription for Mrs Kamitzski, thoughtfully inked in a long column down the desktop. ‘Mrs Kamitzski, you fat whore, you need a cow’s shlong shoved straight up your sagging ass.’
‘Here.’ Nubby thrusts a new booklet at me. ‘You were right. You didn’t need to be here.’
I grab it from him, dashing out to the frigid streets, past the desperate souls lining up outside, and all the way to the subway platform before stopping to catch my breath. I lean against the cold tile wall, staring down the long hallway of the Fifty-Ninth Street station. My breath is labored and my cheeks are wet.
‘Shitshitshit,’ I mutter to my sneakers. Wiping my nose with my coat sleeve, I heft the thick booklet, at least fifty pages long in its explanation of the hearing process involved in contesting Doris. I eye the numbers listed on the back cover and walk over to the payphone while digging deep in my bag to pull up a dog-eared card worn soft with worrying.
‘My Company. How may I direct your call?’
‘Guy, please.’
‘Hold on.’ There’s a pause before another woman picks up the line. I clear my throat of all signs of sniffles.
‘Hello, this is Stacey.’
‘Yes, is Guy in? I’m calling to speak with him regarding an interview I had with Rex. There was a misund —’
‘Hold on, please.’
I grip the phone with both hands, praying she returns within three minutes as I’m now out of change. I’m going to beg him.
‘Hey, Girl.’ Guy comes on the line. ‘Yeah, so you wowed the fucking pants off Rex at your meeting. He loved you. We’ve been meaning to get a call out, but we’re crazed with this client we’re pitching overseas. Can you come in at uh … say, twelve thirty on Friday?’
‘Yes! Yes, I absolutely can. Um, sorry, for a second inter—’
‘See you Friday.’ The call disconnects.
A bolt of sunshine cracks through sixty tons of New York City concrete and shines directly onto my head.
5. By Any Means Necessary
Retracing my steps over the cracked cobblestones of far-west Chelsea, I nod confidently to the security guard, flash my license, and sign in. But when the elevator slides open onto the musty loading dock, my spirits falter. So help me God, I’m leaving employed or throwing myself out their perfect windows.
‘Girl, hey.’ I startle as Guy strides up from behind, tossing a coffee cup into a nearby dumpster.
‘Hi!’
‘Great.’ He continues past, his booming voice filling the dank air. ‘Glad you’re here. We’ve got this thing I want you to be a part of.’ A welcoming Virgil, he holds the door open to his sunshine-bathed offices.
‘Thank you. Yes, I’m happy to be part of a thing —’ His cell rings and while he nods and yeahs into the minuscule appliance, I fall violently back in love with all that is My Company, filling with childlike yearning for every bonsai tree and brushed steel recycle bin.
Clicking his phone shut, Guy stops abruptly just inside the doorway of a small glassed-in conference room, blocking my entrance. ‘Hey, folks, this is Girl. We’re looking at her to head up the initiative.’ Squeezing in around him, I smile at the expectant faces as I roll out a mesh titanium-colored chair. ‘Girl, some key players toimpress in the MC, Inc. family: Matt – Design, Stan – IT, Angel, our office manager, and Joe here is the People Department, killing us with all the HRbullshit.’ Joe, his beard a soft gray, looks to be the eldest employee. ‘You made me a promise, Joe. All My Company policies should fit on one index card. Like running a hot dog cart.’
Joe laughs nervously, while the other men give me a half-hearted wave.
‘Let’s just jump right in,’ Guy continues. ‘The
‘Here.’ Nubby thrusts a new booklet at me. ‘You were right. You didn’t need to be here.’
I grab it from him, dashing out to the frigid streets, past the desperate souls lining up outside, and all the way to the subway platform before stopping to catch my breath. I lean against the cold tile wall, staring down the long hallway of the Fifty-Ninth Street station. My breath is labored and my cheeks are wet.
‘Shitshitshit,’ I mutter to my sneakers. Wiping my nose with my coat sleeve, I heft the thick booklet, at least fifty pages long in its explanation of the hearing process involved in contesting Doris. I eye the numbers listed on the back cover and walk over to the payphone while digging deep in my bag to pull up a dog-eared card worn soft with worrying.
‘My Company. How may I direct your call?’
‘Guy, please.’
‘Hold on.’ There’s a pause before another woman picks up the line. I clear my throat of all signs of sniffles.
‘Hello, this is Stacey.’
‘Yes, is Guy in? I’m calling to speak with him regarding an interview I had with Rex. There was a misund —’
‘Hold on, please.’
I grip the phone with both hands, praying she returns within three minutes as I’m now out of change. I’m going to beg him.
‘Hey, Girl.’ Guy comes on the line. ‘Yeah, so you wowed the fucking pants off Rex at your meeting. He loved you. We’ve been meaning to get a call out, but we’re crazed with this client we’re pitching overseas. Can you come in at uh … say, twelve thirty on Friday?’
‘Yes! Yes, I absolutely can. Um, sorry, for a second inter—’
‘See you Friday.’ The call disconnects.
A bolt of sunshine cracks through sixty tons of New York City concrete and shines directly onto my head.
5. By Any Means Necessary
Retracing my steps over the cracked cobblestones of far-west Chelsea, I nod confidently to the security guard, flash my license, and sign in. But when the elevator slides open onto the musty loading dock, my spirits falter. So help me God, I’m leaving employed or throwing myself out their perfect windows.
‘Girl, hey.’ I startle as Guy strides up from behind, tossing a coffee cup into a nearby dumpster.
‘Hi!’
‘Great.’ He continues past, his booming voice filling the dank air. ‘Glad you’re here. We’ve got this thing I want you to be a part of.’ A welcoming Virgil, he holds the door open to his sunshine-bathed offices.
‘Thank you. Yes, I’m happy to be part of a thing —’ His cell rings and while he nods and yeahs into the minuscule appliance, I fall violently back in love with all that is My Company, filling with childlike yearning for every bonsai tree and brushed steel recycle bin.
Clicking his phone shut, Guy stops abruptly just inside the doorway of a small glassed-in conference room, blocking my entrance. ‘Hey, folks, this is Girl. We’re looking at her to head up the initiative.’ Squeezing in around him, I smile at the expectant faces as I roll out a mesh titanium-colored chair. ‘Girl, some key players toimpress in the MC, Inc. family: Matt – Design, Stan – IT, Angel, our office manager, and Joe here is the People Department, killing us with all the HRbullshit.’ Joe, his beard a soft gray, looks to be the eldest employee. ‘You made me a promise, Joe. All My Company policies should fit on one index card. Like running a hot dog cart.’
Joe laughs nervously, while the other men give me a half-hearted wave.
‘Let’s just jump right in,’ Guy continues. ‘The
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