Here we are again! This first page is from chapter 3. Comment on how you like these posts! Click here for buy information for Finding Alana.
*Copyright: This material is protected by copyright owned by Meg Farrell, Farrell Writes LLC. 2016
“Wine after work tonight.” I text Kate on my way back to my desk.
Her response is nearly instantaneous, and, as usual, emphatic. “Hell yeah! Only, let’s skip wine at home and go to the bar.”
I chuckle and text her back a time to meet at the house. I’m glad I have her. She’s been seriously dependable and more supportive than any other random roommate I could’ve found. She’s a blessing.
Work is rote as I finish preparing reports. My manager, Bernice, AKA the Dragon Lady, has decided she wants all reports presented in a color-coded file system. I have an instructional document on how to present reports to her.
It’s fucking ridiculous, yet I keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told, playing the get-along game. I need this job, and I need the promotion even more.
Checking my calendar for the millionth time, I note that I have ten minutes until my first interview of four today. Four interviews for a single-step promotion. I won’t even be a manager level, yet I need to interview with four people to get there. It’s a tad excessive.
I consider my answers to the questions I hate the most: What is your biggest weakness? What is your five-year plan? Dude, I so just want to answer: I have no weaknesses. My five-year plan is to have a job and stay alive. That won’t float, so I polish my professional responses.
I have to convince them I want to be here for the rest of my life. Go Web Design, Inc.! I bleed blue and white. Damn it! Maybe I should have worn a company logo shirt. Too late now. I find myself watching the clock as my thoughts ramble.
I remember how Rhae used to look at me when I would chase rabbits. She used to call me a squirrel. The memory puts a smile on my face. It’s time. Get your shit together. I stand and walk toward the conference room.