by Lisa Acerbo
“Yes. She got me the interview,” I say as we throw out the empty coffee cups and head to the car.
“You’ll kill it tomorrow.”
We can’t stop laughing on the way home as we sing along to our favorite songs on the radio and mock Adele. I’m happy, even if it is only for a few minutes. Strolling up the concrete sidewalk to our apartment, my laughter dies when I notice the white piece of paper stuck in the screen door. My heart pounds in my ears.
Not again.
“What’s in the door?” I ask Tanya even though I know.
“Fucking motherfucker,” my roommate swears.
Her response shocks me out of my daze. “Really?”
“This is ridiculous. Whoever is doing this shit really needs a life.” Fearless, she marches up to the door and plucks out the paper. She reads it, but then stands silent.
I approach her, worried by the fact she’s quiet. “What is it?”
“I really believed all the notes were about me.” Worried now, she hands me the paper.
Now that Brice is out of the picture, bitch, you’re all mine. Tattoos are for whores. You’ll never forget me after I fuck your whore body and make you bleed.
The words make my arms tingle, the small hairs rising in reaction.
“You need to go to the campus police,” my roommate says.
I’m near tears, squeezing my finger into hard fists. “What are the police going to do?”
“I don’t know, but this is getting creepy.” She pulls me in for a reassuring hug.
“Getting? That’s the understatement of the year.” I watch my knuckles whiten behind her back.
“Do you think it’s Jace?” she asks.
I shrug. “I don’t want to think that. I assumed it was over with him, but who else could it be?”
We do go to the police, and they say there is nothing they can do. They give me the standard safety talk: Don’t go out alone at night, don’t let anyone else give you a drink, don’t go to a stranger’s home. Believe me, I’ve heard it from my mom. They promise to drive by the apartment complex regularly and tell me to call if anything else happens.
* * * *
The moon is having a talk with the sun when I get out of bed the next morning after sleeping little. My alarm had been set for seven, but after the nightmares, I’m glad to be up early. I’d been unable to fall asleep for more than an hour or two at a time, and sleep deprivation is not a good way to approach a job interview. I’m not sure if the latest note or the interview is scarier.
The new business attire provides much-needed comfort as I trudge downstairs to make coffee. My fresh washed hair is dry now and straightened, and my neutral eyeshadow is free of smudges. I’m going for an innocent, clean look. A final check in the bathroom mirror shows my lipstick remained on my full lips even after nibbling some toast.
I leave for Primus Med Ed with high expectations and an abundance of nervous energy. There’s no traffic on the way, and the women’s room is functioning when I enter the building. Both good signs. I text Samantha to let her know I have arrived. I enter the building, find the suite number on the directory, and wipe my hand against my neatly-ironed shirt as I take the elevator to the third floor. Brown shipping boxes line the corridor outside Primus Medical Education. Inside, rows of cubicles crowd in between more boxes, some packed, some partially unloaded.
Samantha, stunning in a brown business suit that highlights the golden tint in her shoulder-length blonde hair, greets me with a hug. “How are you? Ready?”
“I guess.” The office chaos all around makes me nervous.
“Don’t worry. These are the satellite offices. The real offices are across the street. They’re much more organized.”
We walk and talk our way through the narrow pathway to a closed door. Samantha knocks, leans inside, and mumbles something.
“You’ll do great,” Samantha says as she leaves me with a wave and a smile.
A middle-aged woman with limp brown hair and glasses too large for her small features pops her head out the door. “I’m Laura. I spoke with you yesterday. I’m in the middle of a meeting. I’ll be with you shortly.”
The door slams in my face, and I’m left standing in the hallway, which is lacking any place to sit. I stand, uncomfortably surrounded by boxes and noise, feeling mismatched and misplaced.
Movement is everywhere. The office bustles with people chatting on phones, some laughing and talking loud. A good omen. Others cavort in small groups, conferring, heads down, faces intent.
Laura finally steps outside her door and leads me into a conference room, which obviously doubles as additional storage. More boxes line the walls, and the floor is covered with a myriad of pamphlets, brochures, and writing utensils. I sit down but want to get up and bolt. I can’t let the anxiety win, so I pretend my ankles are trapped by quicksand and there is no escape. I take shallow gulps of air, afraid to take any deeper breaths, but I’m hyperventilating. This is ridiculous. I force myself to smile at Laura.
Another woman joins us and introduces herself as Geany. Both Laura Pestel and Geany James are thin and of undeterminable middle-age, career-oriented, no-children types. Geany has a hard time dissecting a chair from the books, monographs, and paper products sprouting from containers and taking over every inch of unclaimed space in the conference room like weeds in a garden. At last, she settles in.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Laura says. The interview starts.
I offer another copy of my resume and fill her in on my education and job as a receptionist at the physical therapy office.
“What kind of meeting planning experience have you had?” Laura asks.
I have no idea what that has to do with being a receptionist, but I answer anyway. “Nothing to the extent that you work on here,” I say, “but I have created poster sessions and presented at them. I also helped my professor coordinate the presenters, over eighty students this year.”
“Your resume is impressive,” Laura says. “Graduating in May with honors, animal science major, and beginning research in satellite cells.”
“You had a great recommendation, too,” Geany says.
“Thanks.” I’m still furious with Brice, so I have a hard time feeling enthused.
They ask me about college life in general, and the interview becomes a pleasant conversation. I even go so far as to tell them the story about the old man in a wheelchair I rescued from the elevator. My anxiety fades, and I can show my true self.
“Stay here,” Laura says after twenty minutes and exits into the hall with Geany.
Geany returns alone. I believe I’m done. My true self is obviously a failure.
“We don’t want to offer you a receptionist job,” Geany says.
I’m crushed. No pretense. My heart falls flat. I had at least hoped to hear the standard ‘We’ll get back to you in a few days.’ My head goes down, hair covering my face as I stare at my lap.
“We want to offer you a part-time meeting planner position. After you graduate, you can come on full-time. What do you think?” Geany asks.
My head pops up. “Really?”
Geany laughs. “Yes. What do you say?”
“Sure.” I’m so happy, I can’t contain my smile.
She talks about what the position will pay, my hours that work around my class schedule, and that once I go full-time, I will have benefits like insurance and vacation time.
I’m floating, in a daze.
Finally, something good has come into my life.
Geany shakes my hand and leads me out of the room. I’m hired on the spot and sent to human resources to fill out endless forms and discuss my schedule. Samantha sends me a smile and a thumbs-up from across the room. She holds up her cell phone, signaling she’ll text.
After signing my name so many times my hand cramps, I step out into the afternoon sun, ready for anything.
When I arrive the next day after class for training, Geany introduces me to more people than I can remember. My
desk had been placed against the back wall, blocking the door to a storage area.
“Sorry,” Geany says. “We’re a little cramped. We’ll be moving you as soon as editorial gets out of our building. We’re the satellite office, and editorial is getting set up across the street at Primus Main. They just rented some additional space.”
I glance at the top of my desk, the surface a myriad of boxes, papers, and left-over office supplies. I shove my imitation Gucci purse in a drawer and follow Geany’s brisk steps outside and across the driveway to the main offices of Primus. Once again, over the next hour, I’m introduced to a host of people. The owner, extremely pleasant and cheerful, has a life-size Yoda on his desk.
Once we leave his office, Geany whispers, “He’s never here. If not charming pharmaceutical clients, it’s rumored throughout the company that he’s in the process of building the next great American golf course.”
I nod, a little overwhelmed, but eager to fit in. I’ve quickly realized silence keeps me from saying something stupid that I’ll agonized over later. I’m all right with it. Being at a loss for words has become my new norm.
Once back at my desk, Geany tells me to settle in and provides information about the client and the drug they are promoting, an antipsychotic. I wonder if the gods are laughing at me right now.
Geany glances at her watch. “Shit, I have a conference call. There’s one more person I need to introduce you to.” She calls over a girl and leaves.
“I’m Dani.” I introduce myself.
“Maddie. I graduated last year from B.C., that’s Boston College in case you didn’t know. I’m the meeting planner.” Young, dark haired, and slightly pudgy with baby fat that refuses to respond to tanning and toning at the gym.
“I’m graduating this semester. I’m starting part-time.” I say the words with as much poise as I possess. “It’s nice to be working with you.”
A pout forms on Maddie’s lips before she speaks. “I refuse to train you. That’s not my job.” Her words are cold. With a flip of her professionally styled hair, Maddie stomps off.
I sit at my desk, flustered and ignored by all the other workers except for their curious glances. Not knowing what else to do, I begin to read up on the literature about antipsychotics.
Maddie has stopped Laura Pestel in the middle of the large room. I can hear her agitated voice complain about her extra, unwelcome duties training the “new girl.”
At first, I pretend to be engaged in shiny commercialized product guides but become fascinated by this unknown world of medications. The drug treats delusional psychosis, including schizophrenia, as well as other diseases such as bipolar disorder, depression, and Tourette’s. These can even be prescribed for irritability in autistic children and teens. Enraptured in the product literature, I fail to hear Laura and Maddie’s arrival. I jump in my chair when Laura speaks.
“Maddie’s not here to train you, but to work as a partner,” Laura says at the start of what sounds like a lecture, as if it is my fault to not have befriended Maddie in a more co-workerly fashion. “You’ll be searching for sites in the South East to connect doctors attending a conference. The physicians attending are those who prescribe or will prescribe lots of the drug in the near future and doctors who teach the CME courses.” She waves her hand at the brochure I’m reading.
“CME?” I ask.
“Dear God.” Laura sighs as if I’m an idiot, and she regrets hiring me. “Continuing medical education. Also attending will be physicians who ran the medical trials and VIPs connected to the pharmaceutical company. The VIPs will be at the meeting to present the wealth of new medical knowledge on how to use and prescribe the drug.”
“Seriously, do I need to be here for this?” One of Maddie’s manicured fingers touches her pouty lips.
“Can you travel on weekends?” Laura asks, ignoring Maddie.
“I didn’t realize I’d be traveling,” I say, that old familiar knot forming inside. I had been so excited, but suddenly I feel like I’m drowning.
“You will, but the travel mostly occurs on the weekend, so it shouldn’t interfere with school.” Laura’s eyes pierce mine.
“Okay.” I don’t want to, but I also don’t want to lose my job on the first day.
“Great. You and Maddie will check out hotels in Florida and Hilton Head, South Carolina. Book the flights.”
“I’ll book them,” Maddie says. “I’m sure you’ll screw the job up if I let you do it.” And they are both gone.
I sit for a moment, trying to recover from being in the eye of a hurricane.
Samantha comes from across the room, and it’s nice to see a friendly face.
“I want to rescue you and take you out for lunch on your first day,” she says.
“Thank God. I have so many questions.”
I grab my purse, and we stride through the parking lot crammed with shiny cars: BMWs, Mercedes, with a few Buicks tucked in between. We cross Main Street. Cars and trucks whiz by, making me dizzy at their thoughtless speed, none stopping. Finally, there’s a break in the heavy traffic, and we race across the road. Not used to my new shoes with a small heel, I totter across clumsily, an awkward companion to my graceful, elegant friend.
I’m sweating by the time we arrive at a café thanks to my keyed-up nerves. I grab a tray and wade through a variety of lines to collect a salad, drink, and a chocolate chip cookie. We settle outside at a wrought iron table, sun in my eyes, a heavy umbrella my only protection,
Samantha is direct. “Don’t let Maddie get to you. She’s a bitchy witch, and she’ll try and cause trouble for whoever she works with.”
“Then why would Laura saddle me with her on my first day?” I ask.
“No one else wants to work with her.” Samantha sends a sad smile my way.
“Great,” I mumble as I pick at some lettuce leaves already beginning to wilt in the warm weather. “We’re supposed to go check out sights in Florida. I can’t believe the company is sending me away on business so quickly.”
“I told you we were busy,” Samantha says.
“Tell me more about how the whole CME thing works? Laura mentioned that some meetings were CME and some weren’t. I didn’t really get any clear answers, but I was afraid to ask my new best friend Maddie.”
Samantha grins at my snide remark before wiping a stray bread crumb from her hands. “Continuing medical education meetings are supposed to be neutral. Doctors and healthcare professionals need the credits to maintain their licensure and certification. The CME programs are not allowed to focus on the drug sponsored by the pharmaceutical company, but represent all the drugs on the market for the disorder fairly. If a meeting is promotional, the drug company can pretty much do whatever they want and spend however much they want. Lots of perks for the doctors.”
I nod, almost understanding. I soak in Samantha’s wisdom for the remainder of lunch before we return to the office. The final hours of the day pass uneventfully. I read and learn and try to absorb this new world. I can’t wait to get home and ask Kyle and Tanya what to do about Maddie.
It’s not even six when we gather. I sit in our living room, wine glass in hand, having an emergency meeting. The wine settles my nerves. Kyle and Tanya do the rest.
“I can’t believe I took this job. I can’t do it. I need to quit.” I shake my head, hoping my failure will cascade off me like snow in a storm. I fill them in on Maddie. “She’s a beast.”
“Are you sure that’s the word you wanted to use?” Tanya’s smile shows she started the wine long before I entered the door.
“Maybe you can date her.” I focus on Kyle.
“Me? Why me?” He is more curious than concerned.
“You’re the only person who can take her evil edge away,” I say.
“Fuck it away.” Tanya breaks out in laugher.
Kyle and I exchange glances, but I add, “It is true.”
“Let’s come up with some other solutions first.” His cheeks flush, and I wonder if Tanya actu
ally embarrassed him with the comment.
“I don’t think there are any other solutions. She’s that bad.”
“Worse than Tanya?” Kyle smiles at her.
“This is why we’ll never be friends,” Tanya says to Kyle. “I’m pouring myself another glass if I have to suffer through your abuse all night. Anyone else?”
Kyle and I shake our heads as she leaves the room.
He grabs my hand. “If you really want me to sacrifice my virgin soul to Maddie, I will.”
“Virgin, ha.” I can’t stop laughing.
“Fine, my soul.” Kyle grins.
“Hopefully, there are other options, but I’ll definitely let you know when and if I need you to sacrifice your body for my sanity.”
Tanya reenters and squishes next to me. I’m bolstered having my two best friends by my side.
“Anything for you,” Kyle whispers in my ear.
* * * *
A pattern begins to form around my days at Primus. I meet with my team every morning, whom I was introduced to on my first day. I’m remembering more names. Geany is the senior meeting planner, and Maddie the associate meeting planner. Alan, the Marketing Manager, tall and thin with slightly receding curly, dark brown hair, is nicknamed “the screamer.” He tends to lose his temper at the most interesting moments and takes it out on all the people around him, especially his team.
Garry and Mina are the marketing team everyone want to work with, and the two people everyone want to be. Garry, six-foot-one-inch tall, works out every day at five in the morning to maintain his impressive physique. His hair and clothes are impeccable. Mina is his constant shadow in her size-four designer dresses and high heels. Tall and slim, she could have been gracing fashion runways. A toss of her raven black hair makes the men come running, drool forming puddles on the floor around her desk. And though she obviously knows how to wield this power well, Mina only has eyes for Garry. And then there is me. I feel frumpy and stupid next to everyone and wish I could have been the office receptionist.
