Well, Pooh.
And Tigger, too. I am trashy, flashy, brashy, splashy. And oh so bum bum bummed.
This is not a one-size-fits-all kind of man. Casting a wide net is not the solution.
A precision strike is needed. Pinpoint accuracy.
As I speed home, my eyelashes take flight out the car window.
Day of Employment:
365
11:00 a.m.
SUNDAY.
Couch.
Fuzzy blanket.
Remote.
Today is the one year anniversary of my first day at work.
Final paper was submitted two days early. I’m good, but I am not usually that good.
As it is a Sunday, I mark the occasion with a John Hughes movie marathon and eat directly from a jar of Talenti raspberry sorbet until my hand loses all feeling.
When feeling is regained, I dig into the vanilla bean.
5:02 p.m.
HE DIDN’T NOTICE.
One whole year.
Not even a blip on his radar.
Not that I find this shocking.
Not in the least.
I have been utterly invisible since I started. I was not really expecting any acknowledgment of my anniversary.
I have now officially crossed that threshold from new hire to old hand with little fanfare. By “little” I mean none. I won’t even stand out in the crowd as a fresh face now.
So I’m changing this. I’m changing me.
His radar will no longer be blipless.
Tomorrow I start over. I don’t expect him to notice me right away. It is a process. I have a plan.
Day of Employment:
366
6:00 a.m.
*
Awake
: Already.
*
Thus Far
: Plan sucks.
*
Clothes
: Laid out night before.
*
Lunch
: Salad. Yay.
I EAT SALADS ALL THE TIME; however, I maintain they are not truly food. They are food’s food.
My feet hit the cold, hardwood floor and I fight the urge to creep back under my duvet. Sleep is my friend.
Not as faithful a friend as cellulite. It is so loyal. Always there.
The treadmill groans right along with me as it whirls to life. It probably thinks I have sold it to someone who will actually utilize it. Maybe it will miss its life as my coatrack.
It’s slow going. I’m walking on an incline. Walking, not running.
It’s slow going, but that is okay. It’s a process. I have a plan.
7:45 a.m.
I HAVE NOW LOST AN ENTIRE HOUR of my life to exercise and a shower. Time better not be the only thing I have lost.
I’m one of the first to arrive at work.
He walks to his office.
He’s wearing the blue suit.
He looks around behind him before he enters. Midway, his gaze floats across me as if I’m not even there.
Invisible.
No blip.
2:18 p.m.
*
PA
: Old Mother Hubbard.
*
Pot Won
: $96 and change.
REBECCA’S STRATEGY TO PLACE a septuagenarian in the hot seat fizzled out.
I can’t really fault Canon for this one. She had great phone skills, but was technologically challenged. Got cursor and mouse confused. Kept placing the mouse in direct contact with the screen, right on top of the item she needed to click on.
Maybe you had to be there.
Anyway, she’s cleaning out her cupboards and headed back to the Blue Hair Group in time for Wheel.
Day of Employment:
367
6:00 a.m.
*
Awake
: Again.
*
Plan
: It still sucks.
*
Lunch
: Salad. Again.
*
Hair
: Flat-ironed into submission.
*
Clothes
: Tan pencil skirt, ivory blouse, flesh-toned stockings, brand-spanking-new taupe suede pumps courtesy of yesterday’s winning bet.
LAUNCHING THE NEXT PHASE OF THE PLAN, I have shoved my teals, pinks, lavenders, bright blues, and all other colors in the Roy G. Biv spectrum to the back of the closet. Even indigo. I’m considering that a unique blue.
I’m a big blender full of subdued. So beige Helen Hunt would be envious. Total corporate drone, all business.
Plan forecast: Nothing but black, navy, and beige, with scattered gray and a slim chance of red.
7:30 a.m.
OUT THE DOOR.
The new shoes feel like walking on a big ol’ poofy cloud of air…until about three-quarters of the way to my car when my toes go numb. Too late to turn back now. I sigh and look mournfully down at them. Too bad; I do like the way they make my calves look. I make a mental note to see if I can take them back tonight.
I scratch through the note just as quickly. These shoes look like hers. Example B.
I have seen Alaric Canon with two women: Company picnic. Christmas party.
Example B (name unknown) wore similar shoes to last year’s party. No hair out of place. Everything about her was subdued.
Colors. Manners. Refined.
Company Picnic Chick was so similar. She wore capris and a blouse, but somehow they looked like a power suit. Immaculate hair, unaffected by humidity. Grace personified.
True to form, this year’s Holiday-Party Model was no exception. Made from the same seamless mold and polished to perfection.
My plan might’ve benefited from a stint at finishing school.
I picture myself balancing books on my head as I slip into the car.
Incoming text: My office ASAP—Rebecca
Weird.
I know this is the sort of thing that sends others into a tizzy. Rebecca might come off like a bitch, but she’s really just assertive. Her praise is usually in the form of silence. I know she values me, and she knows I do my job, do it right, and never question anything. The only time I have ever feared her was when I went to her about starting night classes. But she appreciated my full disclosure. She seems to trust me even more since then. She knows this is not my forever.
In no time, I sit in Rebecca’s office and listen, dumfounded, to her explain what’s happened and what she wants me to do.
“I think there has been some sort of mistake.”
“Your reaction doesn’t surprise me,” Rebecca says, as she leans over her desk and straightens an already straight stack of files.
Perpendicular angles everywhere. Without sparing an upward glance, she continues, “Try to see the genius in it. This is the plan. Adjust…and don’t embarrass this department. Here’s his itinerary for the week.” She hands a stack of papers to me, which I nearly drop when I see the look she has leveled at me. She’s terrified.
Rebecca.
Terrified.
I may soil myself.
“This department has a lot riding on you. And by this department, I mean me.” She clears her throat and manages to assume something close to her normal, chilly demeanor. The cracks in the ice are still there.
“Emma, you’ve been here long enough to know how this shakes out. No one expects you, or anyone, to last long. Every Canon PA is really a temp position. Help him prep for the trip and make it until he leaves and I’ll give you a raise when you get back here. Make it a month and you’ll come back to this department with a promotion.”