Disillusion Meets Delight (3 page)

“My, my Natalie, I do believe that you had a little chemistry with this gentleman.  Could it be? Did you fall for someone over a Brat Pak video?  Oh that is so romantic.  Much better than that cliché produce section pickup.  Did he get your number?”

“Jenna, he was a complete jerk with the personality of a toad.  There was no exchanging of phone numbers, simply dirty looks.  I don’t care if I ever see him again.”  I say firmly. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s better off that way.  You spent too much time with someone who was selfish and lacked charisma anyway.  Don’t worry Nat, it will happen you know.”  Jenna says trying to give me encouragement.

“Oh Jenna I gotta go.  I think my mom is calling me on the land line.  She’ll think I’m screening her calls if I don’t pick up!”

“Good luck dahling!”  She says with a cackle.

My mother is a lovely lady, but somewhat overbearing.  She means well, she really does but I cannot deal with her in large doses.  When my father died a few years ago, she went through this rebirth of independence and renewal.  She did some traveling back to England, where she is from and joined clubs for women of wealth and boredom.  In all honesty, it’s nice to see my mother active but sometimes I wish she wasn’t quite so active in my life. 

“Hi, mom.”  I say with confidence as caller id has made us all the amazing Kreskin nowadays, except for my mother.

“Natalie darling, it always makes me giggle when you know it’s me calling.  So, how have you been?  I had expected us to do brunch this Sunday with Jan Wellington and her daughter Mallory.  Why didn’t you call me back Friday night?  You know that it is poor etiquette to not return one’s phone call within 24 hours.  What has gotten into you?”  Did I add that my mother is a true follower of Miss Manners?  It really drives me up the wall.

“Mother, I am sorry.  I had a very difficult week at work.  My mind has been elsewhere.  I saw Josh last night when I went out with Jenna and Mya and…”

“Oh Natalie, you didn’t talk to him did you?”  She says in that disappointing Mom tone.

“I was cordial to him.  You have always told me that one should never let their emotions get the better of them in public.  I was being the bigger person.”

“Yes, well, I have said that haven’t I? Regardless, he is one individual that is better off
shipping off
on one of the fishing boats and never returning.”  My mother was never pleased with my relationship with Josh, in case you hadn’t missed her subtleness.  She saw right through the good looks and knew that he was trouble.  Do they have to always be right?

“Well, anyway, I have rescheduled brunch with Jan for next Sunday at 10:30.  You can meet me at the house and we will drive together to the restaurant.  Jan hasn’t seen you since your graduation party almost two years ago.  She will be ever so pleased that you came!  You can catch up with Mallory and the two of you can share adventure stories.  I really must go darling.  I am making a flan.  Call me this week to tell me what you are wearing!”

“Bye mom.”  I can’t wait.  Brunch with Jan and Mallory Wellington will be as enjoyable as a root canal.  Jan is so pretentious.  She is always bragging about how well Mallory does in
this
and how successful Mallory is in
that
.  I don’t know how my mother has been friends with her so long and Mallory!  Ugh!  She is about as interesting as a book about potting soil, no offense to potting soil.  She is really tall and slender and just got a job promotion at her advertising agency.  I really don’t know how she got it because apart from her 4.0 GPA from Berkeley and her perfect teeth and hair and wardrobe from Saks, she really isn’t all that great.  In fact, I find her quite overrated.  At least brunch will include mimosas.  Spending the morning with my mother, Jan and Mallory Wellington must include alcohol if I am to survive.  I am not an alcoholic by any means, but I have never discounted champagne’s ability to make certain situations somewhat tolerable.  It is all about survival really, isn’t it?

Every day, Monday through Friday, I do the same thing.  I drag myself out of bed, scramble to get my first cup of coffee, feed the cat and hope both my shoes match as I run out the door to my car.  Then I race the other cars to merely wait at the on ramp to only sit and wait on the freeway as some brain dead fool decided that only two lanes would be necessary for commuters to drive on.  I know what you’re saying.  If I cared anything about our depleted environment, I would take public transportation and be done with the commuting nightmare.  Well, yes, I suppose that is an option considering my company provides free Tri-Met stickers annually and I live a mere three miles from a nearby MAX train stop.  However, I really enjoy my new grown-up car.  It has cup holders and air conditioning and is quite nice all around.  So, I battle the commute each day and feel just a little bit more irresponsible and decide to start a recycling campaign at the office to ease my guilty conscience.

When I finally reach my destination, I go to my desk, check my email, listen to my voicemails and proceed to go about my day.  Nothing changes in my workweek apart from the homeless person that stands outside my air conditioned, polished car asking for a buck after I squander 4 of them on a lukewarm cappuccino.  This particular Monday was different than its predecessors.  There was something in the air that posed the notion that something was about to change.

While walking to my desk, I hear whispers from coworkers in little crowds.  Some new and exciting gossip I presume as I sit down, turn on my computer and arrange my papers.  My phone rings and I dabble with the thought of letting it go to voicemail when something tells me to pick it up.

“Hi it’s me, Laura.  I’m not there obviously!”  Then it just occurs to me that Laura isn’t here.  Usually it is her loud joyful laugh that echoes through the corridors but not this morning.  This morning is filled with an eerie background of whispers and tension.

“What’s going on?  Why aren’t you here?”  I panic because I know something is wrong.

“Natalie, I got fired.  They fired me!  When I came into work this morning, they had my paycheck in their hands.  I just wanted to tell you before you heard it in office gossip.  I gotta go but I will call you later.  I have to come in after everyone has left to get my stuff.  They’re going to have a security escort and everything.  You would have thought that I was embezzling or something!  Oh well.  Keep in touch.  I’ll talk to ya later.” And with that, she was gone.  My work confidante, lunch buddy and all around pal was gone.  I was left to defend myself against the gossip mongers and village idiots.  This is horrible and just when I think it could not get any worse, I receive an email from Mr. Woodhouse asking to meet with me at 10:00 in his office. 

With the anticipation of my mid morning meeting, I cannot concentrate at all.  I can’t help but wonder if I am being fired as well.  Granted, they don’t have a lot of reason to fire me, but we all know where there’s a will, there’s a way.  Maybe they are cleaning house and they want new staff.  Maybe they are threatened by my knowledge and motivation.  Mr. Woodhouse is retiring soon and perhaps they don’t want the likes of me getting in their way.  But why would they fire me?  There are so many people in my department that should have been in the unemployment line a long time ago.  I mean really, how many chances are these people going to get?  Tick tock.  Ten minutes to ten becomes five and eventually I realize that I must face the music.  If I am being fired, I will deal with it.  Granted, it will make me destitute because I have absolutely no savings and it does not look good on future job applications.  Plus if I get fired, I won’t have health insurance.  Everyone needs health insurance!  What if I get in a car accident and have to go the hospital or get an incurable disease?  What if I have to start paying for my prescriptions?  I have to be on birth control!  I may have sex again someday!  Okay, Natalie, deep breaths.  You can’t go into this meeting with arm pit stains.  You have to be calm.  You have to be…

“Miss Everett, nice to see you.  I’ve been expecting you.  Glad to see you read your emails.  Most of those yahoos down there don’t even know what email is.  Anyway, come, sit down.”  Mr. Woodhouse actually seems like a human being.  I knew this was going to be a weird day. 

“Um, Mr. Woodhouse, I am curious as to why you asked me here this morning.”

“Ah yes, let’s cut to the chase.  As you may have heard, we have let an employee go.  There has and will be some changes in our department.  We have been evaluating some of our long term employees and feel that you have stepped up to the plate.  In saying that, we have decided to make you a lead.  This will entail an increase in your salary and working a few weekends but apart from that, there won’t be a lot of change.  So, Miss Everett, do you accept?  Miss Everett?”  At that moment my whole future was flashing before my eyes.  Was this what I wanted?  I dreamed of having a fabulous job as a magazine editor or award winning actress, not working in an office that has so many cubicles one needs to walk around with bread crumbs in order to prevent getting lost.  On the other hand, what if this could lead into something better?  After all, I am still young.  Everyone has to start somewhere and who knows where I could be in five years? I did not know what to do.  Here I am in my boss’s office, receiving praise and respect and I am at a loss for words.  Hurry up Natalie say something before Woodhouse thinks you are ungrateful and stupid.

“Mr. Woodhouse I am grateful for the responsibility and look forward to upcoming challenges.”  I respond and hope to god that I don’t sound sarcastic. 

“Wonderful, Everett let’s start immediately.  We are in the process of hiring a replacement for that position of uh, er, oh the blonde girl we fired.” He stammers with disregard. How can he not remember her name?  He just fired her this morning!  Laura had been at this company for five years and an hour later he cannot even remember her name? 

“Laura.”  I respond. 

“Pardon?” He asks as if we had completely started a new conversation. 

“Laura, sir, is the individual that was terminated this morning.”  I reply trying in every possible way to not roll my eyes and groan.

This meeting is becoming more and more like a death march than a promotion and I am already having second thoughts of my acceptance.  I realized that to our management, we were disposable employees.  One person is replaced by another for everyone to carry on as if nothing had ever changed.  I had always believed the “dime a dozen” routine was only for the McJob industry, but I was wrong and disillusioned yet again.  Whether it is a fast food employee or an office executive, job security was a thing of the past. In the end minimum wage and 6 digit incomes were all the same entity.  I wondered if I was able to step up into management, maybe I would be able to make a difference.  Idealistic, perhaps but my new position was beginning to show some potential.  Of course, it would not be easy as Mr. Woodhouse is not one to welcome change.  This is a man who has been in the corporate world since the Nixon administration.  He believes women should be seen and not heard, especially when it comes to making decisions in the workplace.  However, I thrive towards challenge and Mr. Woodhouse is just what I need to keep the job interesting.  First match, tomorrow at 10 A.M. where I have the lovely opportunity of interviewing our next victim, I mean, employee.

After the gut wrenching meeting with Woodhouse, the rest of my work day was like most of the other days, not very interesting and fairly tedious.  So, I decided to call Mya for after work drinks.  I haven’t been able to see her very much because she has been quite busy with school, her clinical work and her boyfriend.  Sometimes I feel like an odd ball because I do not have a steady boyfriend.  Even Jenna has been creeping closer to the relationship game.  She has gone on two consecutive dates with Rob, a real estate agent that works mainly in the West Hills of the city.  He does quite well for himself according to Jenna, which is all the more appealing to her.  She does not necessarily choose a man for his income (although it helps) but more for his goals and accomplishments.  I have not met him yet but if tonight’s date goes well, I imagine Jenna Masterson will be officially off the market and on the arm of Real Estate Rob in no time. 

After no success at reaching Mya’s cell phone, I resort to the home phone, which again goes to voicemail.  I am becoming rather discouraged and feeling a bit of a loser as everyone in my life is either unavailable or unreachable.  Even Laura has plans tonight, the day she gets fired.  Her ex fiancé is taking her out to dinner (don’t even get me started.)  So, it looks like it’s another video night alone with a bottle of wine and Thai takeout, which is actually ok.  I’m feeling like another Brat Pack film so I head over to find
Pretty in Pink
.  Just the movie I need to lift my spirits and reminisce on the teen angst of yesteryear.  Unfortunately, I am not seeing my movie anywhere, except in the hands of, no it couldn’t be.  What is he doing with my movie?!  What is snotty, curly lips doing with Pretty in Pink?  He must have known that I wanted to see it.  Men don’t watch movies like that.  Oh, what if he’s gay and has a crush on Andrew McCarthy?  Shame on you Natalie, for that was a complete generalization.  Besides, Jon Cryer is much more appealing with his quirky ways.  AAAGGGHH!  I want to see my movie and that rude jerk of a man has it and apparently has noticed my discontent and is walking in my direction and has now stopped right in front of me. Oh crap.