Tote Bags and Toe Tags by Dorothy Howell

I’d been deep in thought.
    Since my Plan A had failed this morning when Adela and Mr. Dempsey walked in on my covert op, I’d immediately jumped to Plan B. It had taken longer than expected to arrange, but finally it was done—and now I was being interrupted.
    â€œHaley?” a girl asked when I answered my phone. “This is Shawna from the Support Unit.”
    Somebody in the Support Branch from Hell. Just what I needed.
    â€œListen, I noticed Kinsey didn’t get her card from Mr. Dempsey yet,” Shawna said.
    There was a birthday card? From Mr. Dempsey?
    I hate the birthday club.
    Shawna didn’t sound like a complete bitch about it, which was encouraging.
    â€œKinsey’s at lunch. So if you want to bring it over now, it will be a nice surprise when she gets back,” Shawna said.
    I glanced at my watch and saw that I had a few minutes before Plan B went into effect.
    â€œI’ll bring it right over,” I said, and hung up.
    I couldn’t imagine that Mr. Dempsey took time away from his outstanding and far-reaching accomplishments on the world stage, as Adela had put it, to sign birthday cards for specific people. I searched through the desk drawers and the file cabinet until I found a stack of pre-signed cards, which, I would have bet, his secretary had signed.
    I wrote Kinsey’s name on the envelope and headed to the Support Unit. I’d been there once today already, but the walk over seemed different this time.
    For one thing, everyone on my side of the building dressed nicer—obviously, because we made more money—but that wasn’t all of it. The carpet here was a little thicker and the furniture was nicer. Everyone here had a private office.
    That still didn’t explain why the girls in the Support Unit had hated me on sight.
    A girl waited at the entrance to the cube farm, leaning against the door casing. I put her at about my age. She was petite, with short blond hair and a pierced lip. A tat peeked from under the sleeve of her striped sweater. Her face looked vaguely familiar from my visit earlier today.
    â€œI’m Shawna,” she said, when I walked up. “Pretty brave of you to come over here again, after this morning.”
    â€œYou’ve got to be tough to work the birthday club,” I told her.
    She grinned and nodded toward the inside. “The other girls took Kinsey out to lunch for her birthday.”
    â€œYou didn’t go?” I asked.
    â€œThey’re not exactly my peeps.” Shawna said. She paused for a moment, then said, “They shouldn’t have treated you that way this morning.”
    Already, I could tell Shawna and I might become friends.
    â€œSo what’s got everybody so bent out of shape?” I asked.
    She shrugged. “Some people take a job way too seriously.”
    I was liking her more every minute.
    â€œThis place,” Shawna said, shaking her head. “They don’t exactly have what you’d call really fair hiring practices. A lot of the girls in Support are qualified for higher positions but don’t get them. H.R. is super old-school.”
    Maybe that explained the crappy looks I’d gotten this morning and the comments about how I’d gotten hired. It probably didn’t help that I’d been brought on board so quickly by Adela.
    â€œI’d probably hate me, too,” I said.
    â€œIt’s still not right,” Shawna said. “None of it.”
    I passed Kinsey’s birthday card to her. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
    Shawna eyed the envelope. “I don’t know why anybody would want a card signed by the old bastard himself, but Kinsey’s new. She’ll learn.”
    Okay, that was a weird thing to say.
    â€œGreat job on the balloons,” Shawna said, backing away. “They really livened up the place.”
    When I got back to my office on the other side of the complex, I saw Max, Ray, and Tina waiting outside my