How To Bake The Perfect Apple Pie. Gina Calanni

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Название How To Bake The Perfect Apple Pie
Автор произведения Gina Calanni
Жанр Контркультура
Серия
Издательство Контркультура
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474035569



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now I’ve got to get back to work.”

      “Sure, darling, talk to you later.” I hang up the phone.

      Knock. Knock. Someone is at my office door. Part of the promotion includes an office. A real office. Not a cubicle, like the one I had pre-promotion. I have four actual walls—well one of the walls is made of glass, but it has blinds. Of course the rule is the blinds must remain open at all times, unless you are a nursing mother, then your blinds can be closed temporarily.

      I scoot out my leather chair and tap the cherrywood desk with my nails. I bite my lip as I make my way to the door. I pull open the door to see Javier, my boss, standing outside it. He is wearing his dress-for-success grey suit accompanied by a navy pinstriped tie. I bet he is happy to be back in his conservative ties. He won’t have to wear one of his holiday ties from his kids until Valentine’s Day.

      “How’s it going, Lauren? Do you have everything all set up?” Javier’s smile is grandiose. He is obviously happy to see me in my new office. The gossip was that he had to pull quite a few strings to get me an office next to his. There were some not nice things said apparently, but one of my co-workers, Leena, told me she quelled the rumors—whether or not this is true, is still up for debate.

      “It’s going great… This office is perfect.” I open the laminate door wider so he can come in and check it out. On my desk is my flat-screen monitor and company-issued laptop, which I am allowed to take home. The idea of being able to take my computer home with me is cool, except it also means I am required to work from home occasionally. Which I’m not as excited about.

      Next to my monitor is my New Year’s Resolutions coffee cup. It came with a dry-erase marker and every year my mom asks me to tell her what I’ve written on the cup. As if I would actually write my resolutions on a coffee cup for all of my office to see! Next to the cup is a photo of Jack. I snagged it from his house. It’s one of him on a mountain he hiked. I know it’s an important photo and not nice to steal, but I don’t really see this as true thievery because I intend on giving it back to him or sharing it with him at some point. I assume we will be living together soon or at least I hope we will. Maybe I will even have a copy of it made. What if I have to have a copy made because we never end up together? that annoying voice inside my head whispers. Argh! My shoulders slump.

      I wanted to have a picture of him to take back with me, but he wouldn’t stand still long enough for me to snap one with my phone. I have the slowest phone on the planet. I do not want to get the upgrade because I do not see why my phone of less than three years needs to be upgraded. I know plenty of other people who have never upgraded their iPhones and yet my newer one is living in a prehistoric era. It’s almost as if I can hear the krrrrr beep of a modem dialing up to the internet every single time I use it.

      “Lauren?” Javier is staring at me. Shiat. Here I have been out in Lauren-land and my boss is talking to me. This is not the type of impression I want to make on my first day of being a mid-level consultant manager. Though, I don’t have anyone to manage, yet.

      I raise my eyebrows at him. I hope he will take this cue and just repeat what he has said or asked instead of me having to ask for him to do so.

      “Have you picked out your team?” Javier raises his eyebrows in return at me.

      I smile. “I was just going over the candidate list…so many great people to choose from.” I nod.

      Javier nods in agreement with me. “Exactly, but you’ve got to choose five and get started. We expect to see high-resolution numbers and sales rankings before the end of Q1 from you and your team. Time is money.” Javier pulls out his phone from his pocket and taps on the screen. “It’s ten after ten. I’ll give you until noon to have your five.” Javier slides his phone back in his pocket and taps his knuckles on my desk. I blink twice and focus on what he has just said.

      “Thank you, Javier, I’ll see you at noon then.” I smile my most professional grin. Which is covering my fear of not being able to decide on the best candidates from this pile of at least thirty people. Being decisive is not one of my strong points—at least not when it comes to choosing people. Choosing stocks, bonds, any types of investments, that on the other hand is my thing. I gulp.

      Javier nods and closes the door to my office. I slink into my leather bulleted chair and let out a huge sigh, eyeing the papers full of promising candidates across my desk. A vibrating noise comes from within my desk drawer. I’m confused and then realize it’s a phone call. I pull out the bottom drawer and dig through my purse in search of my phone. It’s got to be the biggest item in my purse, yet is always so hard to find.

      I slide the green button across the front of the screen.

      “Hello.”

      “Hi, this is KPRC Local News calling. Am I speaking with the new badass client consulting manager at Calstone Corp?”

      “Hey Bri! I can’t really talk; I have to make a big decision by noon.”

      “Dafuq, tell me you are not still thinking about moving back to Texas?”

      My tongue touches the bottom of one of my upper canines. I press my lips together.

      I sigh. “I don’t know, but—”

      “Lauren, be smart. You just got a HUGE promotion.”

      I pull the phone away from my ear. “I know, which is why I have to go. I have work to do.”

      “Hmph, somebody gets a promotion and suddenly they have no time for fun phone calls anymore. Lamesville.”

      I laugh. “I am in Lamesville, right—great word choice by the way. Maybe you can use it for one of your next house selling slogans.” I laugh; the idea of Brianna writing something like that for a sales campaign would be hilarious.

      “Fine, cocktails at six. Ravens, be there or be square and next time I call, I’m going to block my number so you have to play along!” The dial tone sounds in my ear.

      I roll my eyes and sigh. Time to get to work. I glance at the time on my laptop. I have less than ninety minutes to find the best candidates out of this pile. My phone begins moving across my desk. Is Brianna seriously calling me again? I snatch my phone off the desk. The caller ID alerts me of the contact. It’s a number already logged in my phone that reads “Jack-my-fiancé”. My heart drops into my lower stomach. I pucker my lips together and shake my head. I hover my finger over the rectangle. One slide and I can hear his warm voice. I imagine whatever he will say to me will send my body into further withdrawal. I’m like a junkie…out of rehab on the first day. But I have to be strong. I need to focus. I can’t talk to him right now.

      I press the thin button on the top of my phone to silence the vibrations and toss it into my purse. I roll the drawer shut and focus on the task at hand. Even if I were to move back to Texas, I would still treat each moment here as if I’m not going anywhere.

      The first paper is for a “Trent Riznor”. I laugh, wondering if his parents chose this name on purpose. I mean, I know or I would assume every parent names their child for a specific reason, but this name is so close… I smile. Ha! Closer, yes. I can imagine this song playing in my head and being underneath Jack in his room. Mmm…I shake my head. Focus, Lauren, focus.

      Hmm, let’s see—what qualifications does Trent have, other than perhaps very cool parents? I read over his résumé. It’s fairly impressive. The space of employment in between his last two jobs is concerning, but I put his résumé into my maybe pile. I definitely want to chat with him. I pick up the next candidate, Courtney Gable. Nope, I wouldn’t want Courtney on my team. She is historically known for long bouts of crying at her desk. I do not need a drama queen. I don’t know why she cries, but we are here to work.

      I rummage through all thirty résumés in under forty minutes. I give myself a Tina Fey high five for timing and then send out instant messages to the few on my list, giving each of them a five-minute slot to meet with me before my meeting with Javier. I’m interrupted by a knock on my door.

      Could