by J. J. R.
“Oh the one that rose past my thighs every time I sat down? Reminding me how thick they are? I was frostbitten that night.” I shiver remembering the dreadful decision I made to attempt to be sexy versus retain any sort of warmth.
“It was worth it.” He grins and tosses his crust into the box before jumping on top of me. The sun beams a wide orange spotlight over us as we kiss every inch of one another.
* * * *
Finn is the kind of guy who makes you lose your mind in a hysteria of laughter one minute and then desire him passionately the next. Oh, and did I mention he’s gorgeous? How I landed this guy, I’ll never know. I mean for goodness sake, he proposed on New Year’s last year in the center of Times Square. I know what you’re thinking. You wore that dress in Times Square. Yes, yes I did. I had a sneaking suspicion he was about to pop the question, so I dieted furiously for weeks and squeezed my happy ass into that little number determined to look flawless.
5…4…3…2….and on one knee. It doesn’t get more romantic than that. To top it all off? Jenny McCarthy heard me squealing, “Yes! Yes! Oh my God, YES!” over the normally eardrum-bursting screams of the New Year and pulled us toward the camera for a shot of my stunning, one caret diamond and a kiss to seal the deal. I’ll forgive Jenny for this one, horrific question she asked brightly, “And how did you manage to get this one?” before our big debut.
She was joking, of course. And drunk. Joking. That’s what I tell myself. The camera man was poised for the shot and she runs away to make out with a sailor, leaving us behind, without a cameo. I didn’t care. I was on cloud one million and nine and had my arms wrapped around the most perfect man to ever walk this earth. I didn’t even feel my legs turning blue.
We’ve been together almost five years. We met...surprise... at Lombardi’s. He was working the cash register as a part time job working his way through school. He’s in construction and manages jobsites for architectural sheet metal. Anyway, back to our story. He was all cute with a backwards hat and a red t-shirt, joking and laughing with the guys making pizza. I, of course, was there to claim my personal pizza. He scribbled his number across the top of the box and the rest was history.
Yes, I called him. It was 2009 after all. A girl can confidently call a guy and that’s just what I did. I waited two days and decided I couldn’t wait one more second to see my pizza stud. He answered on the first ring and simply said, “This is Melanie, isn’t it?”
My jaw dropped. “Are you really that confident? Or psychic?”
“You’ll never know. Can I take you out for pizza?”
I paused, unsure how to answer. Was this guy serious?
“I’m kidding! Let’s meet for martinis and ice cream. My treat!”
“Which one comes first?” I contemplated, deciding the martinis were definitely first, not even hesitating on the strangeness of this date.
“Tinis.”
He had me at martini.
* * * *
We fell completely, madly in love in one week. I thought about him every second, checking my phone frantically for a text or call. First night, martinis and ice cream before passionately making out. Second night, movies and more making out. Third night, wine sampling at a bar, vendor hot dogs, and then more making out. Oddly? Vendor hot dogs didn’t gross me out at all that day. I would have gone anywhere and done anything with that man. Now, you couldn’t pay me enough to eat one of those nasty little things.
So, there you have it. We’re in love. The kind of love that’s so much fun, I find myself laughing all of the time. In addition, it is almost painfully passionate, with sometimes paranoid outbursts from me about losing him. But, Finn takes it all in stride and loves me regardless of my antics. And I of him despite his odd opinions on books and movies. We’re a perfect match and don’t you worry, I know how lucky I am.
We sleep most of Sunday, waking only for a morning stroll through the freshly colored leaves to a café around the corner with the best chocolate croissants. We leisurely sip our cappuccinos, and I ramble away recalling every little detail from my moment with the Queen Bee.
“I think she really likes me. I mean, she wouldn’t have said all of that stuff if she didn’t. And regardless, I think she would trust Puppet Master. After all, she seems like she is her right hand gal. I could’ve died when she started jumping up and down! It’s like she’s my soul sister, sent here to mentor me into greatness. I really need a strong woman in my life, one that can show me how to have it all. I saw pictures of her kids on her desk, looked like maybe seven and ten? Maybe eleven? Regardless, she is doing it. She’s everything a powerhouse female in the corporate world wants to be. I want to be just like her.” I nod for emphasis, watching as Finn cracks a smile.
“Good babe. You’re really excited. I’ve never heard you talk so fast, especially hung over.”
I kiss him and then dive into another rant about how stunning the office was, describing in detail every rhinestone, pearl and shade of wallpaper. When I’m done, his eyes are glistening with the imagery of the Taj Mahal. He interrupts me only once to kiss me and pull to my feet for the short walk home. Nap time.
I wake up after a quick half hour and spend the rest of the quiet time on my laptop searching vigorously for anything and everything I can find about Allure, Queen Bee, Puppet Master, my team. I did my research prior to the interview about products and the business, but now I find myself enveloped in their Facebook pages, Twitter accounts, photos of them at galas and fundraisers. Puppet Master’s husband. Her kids. Every little detail about their lives.
Okay, I admit it. I am out of control. I slam the laptop shut as I hear Finn rustling around in the kitchen after his nap. Enough cyber stalking for tonight.
* * * *
Over the next two weeks, I nervously give my notice and begin to train my team on how to manage upon my exit. I clean up the files on my computer, organize my desk drawers and say my goodbyes. My boss, surprisingly, took the news very hard and I questioned just briefly, if only for a moment, if I’d made the right choice. And then I remembered the moment with the Queen Bee and the glittering furniture sprinkled throughout the paradise of corporate offices. In weak moments, I envision myself clicking through the hallways holding reports in my hand, chatting energetically with Puppet Master. I see myself standing before a Powerpoint, waist cinched in a tight new suit, pitching next spring’s ad campaign. Oh, I’m ready for this. You bet your ass.
To prepare, I’ve cut out carbs completely. I drink a spinach smoothie for breakfast, slurp a half cup of broth for lunch, and then eat a light salad for dinner. I am hyper focused. I’ve never been so committed to a diet. I don’t even think about food. I want to show up on my first day in my new chic clothes and knock their socks off.
Yes, I know, it isn’t all about the clothes, but my mother always told me to dress for the job I want. And I want to be Queen Bee before it’s all said and done. Of course, I don’t plan on any vicious, aggressive or devious behavior! I would never push her out! I’m not the pushing out type. And besides, I have a great deal to learn from her. She is so eloquent; she makes Princess Kate seem like a genuine hoosier! Okay, I’m sorry Kate. That was blasphemous.
I have much to learn about Allure, the people, the history, the goals. I will start in marketing, become her focused study and in ten years, upon her retirement, I will be the certain choice. Where is Puppet Master in all of this? She took a fabulous job at a competitor and keeps me on my toes in friendly competition. We still love each other though and quite often meet for a friendly cocktail. No business discussed, naturally.
In addition to my physical preparation, I am also brushing up on the old marketing techniques. I refuse to admit I’d settled into a comfortable zone with our marketing, the ole’ SEO, social media, print ad, eblast world. No. I did what was right for the business. However, any good marketer knows it is critical to stay abreast of the changing times, and I’ll be the first to admit that there are a few social media channels that straig
ht boggle me. So, by day, I mock sadness, pack my plants and kiss-kiss my co-workers on the cheeks, wishing them utter happiness and by night, I become Melanie Michaels, worldwide, expert marketing genius.
There is one person I am going to miss terribly. As adults, it’s impossible to meet friends, unless they are in the workplace. Especially when you are a transplanted Missouri girl, engulfed by the Big Apple. Enter…Jade. She’s my dearest work and real life friend, and I fear we will grow far from one another once I’m gone. Along with Jade came Kate, her rambunctious roommate of four years. The three of us carved our path through this city with liquid dinners and dancing as our cardio. We were ambitious and dedicated but gone the second that clock struck six. We’d head home, sip wine and put on gobs of makeup before piling into a cab and heading to the newest hot spot. We were just a blur of heels and vodka back then and I loved every second of it.
Jade works in Finance and Kate is bartender down off 5th, where she makes bank because she is a hundred pounds dripping wet, but somehow her fake boobs just look like they naturally belong there. Sometimes I envy her when I call at one for a late lunch and have woken her from her slumber. But not anymore! Now, as much as I hate to leave Jade behind and our deliciously, long lunches, I’m prepared to prove myself on a whole new level. I’ve already warned Finn of the long hours, given my neighbor a bag of Friskies to feed Oliver, my fat kitty cat when I am working late and I am ready…to…go!
* * * *
My alarm goes off at six, but I can’t hear it from the shower. I sprung up at five, ready to take on the world. I am so jazzed, I want to scream!
I blow out my hair into long, gently curled pieces, adding extra shine serum for a good gloss. I choose a deep bronze shadow with sunburst metallic for under my brow. Two coats of mascara and cream blush and illuminator pair nicely with my new pale lip gloss. I study myself in the mirror and flash my teeth to check for brightness.
“Grr…” I mumble and swipe my lip gloss with my left hand before plastering a whitening strip across each row.
I carefully laid out my outfit last night and now I study it in question. Pinstripe pantsuit, button down silk blouse and a pearl necklace. What was I thinking?
“All wrong!” I sputter through my whitening strips, hitting Oliver with a nice gelatinous spew. I rush to my closet and flip frantically from shirt to shirt. Skirt? Heels? Flats? Oh my God, I’m going to have a panic attack. Thanks to my recent starvation, must of my clothes are hanging loosely on me, but that doesn’t solve the lack of cute, professionally polished clothing in this closet.
I tap my foot impatiently before pulling out three options. Red blazer. No, too sassy. Cream blazer. No, blasé. Navy blazer with silver thread trim and pearl buttons. Fine. I hate it, but it will do. I slip into my grey slacks and suede grey pumps and study myself. Black pumps? I rocket my shoe to back of the closet and slip into the leather pointed heels.
“NO!” I scream. My bottom whitening strip flings from my lips and lands on my sleeve, leaving a nice thick gel circle. I panic and race in one heel, rocking wildly from hip to hip, to scrub this damn sleeve.
Finally, finally, I stand back from the floor length mirror and let out a long exhale, realizing I have been holding it in for several minutes. I look to Oliver.
“Okay?” He starts toward me to rub his head against my leg, but for fear of cat hair I hiss at him, grab my purse and race for the door.
“No love today my precious boy!”
Game Time
Bitch Problem:
The Office Oppressor seems to have it out for you. You can’t figure it out. You’ve done nothing wrong, but this person is hell bent on face-to-face attacks or behind your back assaults.
I arrive exactly fifteen minutes early. This time the Receptionist greets me with a kind smile and a small wave. This time I’m one of them. I grin widely, unable to control my excitement. She leads me down the hall to my new office and it dawns on me: I have an office! I’ve been in a cubical since I can remember, and I stand flabbergasted at the site of my three solid walls with a sliding glass door for an entrance.
“See here?” The Receptionist traces Melanie Michaels, Marketing Director, in gold shimmering letters across my door. I swear I’ve peed a little.
“No way!” I take a step closer to examine it. “I guess it’s official.”
She swings my door wide and I step in to find a large bouquet of pink tulips in a tall vase on my desk. I rush toward them, anxious to read Finn’s message.
Don’t worry about a thing! We’re impressed already! —Queen Bee
“Oh my goodness! That is the nicest thing in the world!” I exclaim, clutching the card to my chest.
“Yeah, she’s pretty awesome.” Receptionist snaps her gum. “Your phone list is on your desk along with your agenda for the day. Your team is waiting for you in room 2B whenever you are ready.”
“My team?” My voice almost shakes for a moment, but I snatch back the control before it carries away on me. “Thank you, Receptionist.”
“Good luck!” She turns on her heels and leaves me alone to soak in my office. The walls are a soft pearl grey and I realize it will instantly go with the color scheme I am picturing. Perhaps some hot pink, black, and white will spice this place a bit. I twirl around and soak in every detail.
“I’m about to turn thirty-one for heaven’s sake, I shouldn’t be a giddy school girl. Pull yourself together, Melanie!” I say in passing to a crystal full-length mirror to my left. As I stare at my reflection, it hits me. In all of my research, I never once considered who sat in that black wingback chair prior to me. Such an idiot! Who was she? Why did she leave? I consider momentarily pulling out my phone and doing a frantic search, but stop myself. The last thing I want is to be stumbled upon on my phone on my first day.
Later.
How could anyone leave this place? It’s immaculate. The Queen Bee sent me flowers. That is definitely a great sign. And her choice of words, with all the things in the world to say. I feel better already. Whoever sat in that chair last month certainly was recruited elsewhere for her brilliant work. Perhaps, she was swept away to run marketing for a nonprofit, choosing to do some good in the world, having felt guilty for all of the millions she made here.
Yes. I smile to myself. That is exactly where she is. She may regret leaving this place behind, but it is all in the name of charitable giving, perhaps some animal shelter. She absolutely is blissful at this very moment covered in puppy hair. Good for her.
I place my large bag, stuffed to the brim with my notes, a power bar for lunch, and my library of marketing expertise under my desk. I note the impressive Mac monitor with laptop docking station. They certainly aren’t in the business of cutting corners. Perhaps that will translate to my quarterly bonus.
I straighten my jacket, glance one last time in the mirror--very handy by the way--and am about to be on my way to meeting my team when the weakest moment of my entire career hits me. Oh my god. I never asked what my salary would be. Am I kidding? No! I’m not kidding. I could be making entry level for all I know. I immediately start sweating, trying desperately to think of a way to approach this with the Queen Bee when I see her. How on earth could this have happened? It is standard protocol for any interview to review benefits and salary negotiation before signing on the red line and—gasp—leaving your safe and secure salary behind.
I swallow hard and take a deep breath. Another one. When I open my eyes, I see my name in glittering gold letters and I let out a small laugh. I have nothing to worry about. This place is more glamorous than Tiffany’s on Wall Street. I’m quite confident that they were saving that little bit of brilliant news for today, perhaps over a champagne brunch? Everything is going to be fine, Melanie. Time to meet the team.
I make my way past five doors to a set of double doors marked in the same glittering gold as my name. 2B. Here goes nothing…
I push open the door and smile brightly. At the end of an impressively long conference tab
le sit Digital Strategist, Graphic Designer #1, Graphic Designer #2, Marketing Manager, Copywriter, and Assistant. I silence the trumpets in my head. There they are. So perfect. They look as nervous as can be.
“Hello!” I say at a higher pitch than anticipated. “It is such a pleasure meeting you. I’ve heard positively wonderful things about you. I’m Melanie Michaels, your new Director.”
I hear a mumble of hellos as I pull out a seat.
“Can I get you a coffee or water?” Assistant jumps up.
“Oh no, please. I can help myself if I need to. Why don’t we each go around the room and introduce ourselves and say a little about both personal and professional? Sound good?” I ask, leaning forward eagerly.
They nod.
“Okay, I’ll go first. First of all, I am so delighted to be here. This is truly a dream job. I swear it was as if I was accepting an Oscar when Queen Bee offered it to me. I am so determined to be a great leader for you and support you in any way I can. I come from a pretty similar background at Laser Eye Plus and lead a team of two there. We did great things, although we were small, and I can’t wait to see what we can do with a team of this size. After being there for most of my career, I realized I am ready to work for the best and that’s why I am here. You guys are the best and I am confident I can learn so much from you. In fact, that’s what I intend to do for the majority of the first few months.”
I pause and take a scan. Blank stares. I forge ahead. Time for a bit of inspiration. That’s what leaders do.
“I want to soak it all in. I’ll ask a ton of questions, but as I said, I’m just wanting to learn. I want to hear your ideas. What’s working? What would you like to change? We are a team and I’m confident we can take Allure to the next level. Now, for a bit about me personally. I’m engaged for starters! My fiancé Finn and I are getting married early next summer and I can’t help but say, I’ve managed to find my very own Prince Charming. You all will meet him soon. I have a big fat dollop of a cat, named Oliver. He is morbidly obese, and I share no responsibility in getting him to this point.”
