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CHAPTER ONE
The sun shone in brightly through the window, making the contents of the coffee pot resemble murky, muddy, toxic waste. She poured her fourth cup of the morning. Her last cup. She had a rule about coffee and if she went over her morning amount, her teeth would chatter and her hands would shake and she would look like one of those yippy dogs do when their owners get home.
Hannah sat down on a chair that had been put out for trash by one of her neighbors, in decent shape except for the one short leg which wobbled ominously when she sat down. She placed the morning paper down on the surface of a television dinner stand she used as a kitchen table. If she ever had company over, she would be embarrassed by how shabby her apartment was. The landlord had strict rules about not painting the walls and what little decor she had was all the result of garage sales and hand-me-downs from family members who could never understand why she had left the cozy comfort of her small hometown and moved to a city where she could hardly afford her rent, let alone basic necessities.
The newspaper always reminded her those days of failure. Dozens of boxes circled in red then crossed out with black marker after yet another waste-of-time job interview. There were too many people out of work and not enough job openings. Or, at least, that's what the never upbeat people of unemployment informed her with scrunched up eyes and pursed lips that always implied that she was an inconvenient nuisance to them and that it was certainly not part of their job description to help the people who were unemployed to try to attain gainful employment.
But pretty soon the unemployment checks would cease to arrive and then, well, she didn't know what she would do with herself. Move back in with her parents? Sure, they would be all too happy to have her. She received worried calls from her mother at least twice a week and her father was always quick to remind her that her old high school room was there just as she had left it. And no matter how much she loved her parents, moving back in her mid-twenties felt like admitting defeat.
She needed a job. As soon as possible. Her resume must have been in the hands of hundreds of employers in the past few months. She applied to everything. There wasn't anything she couldn't do if she put some effort into it. Baby-sit, retail, office work. Brain surgery? Sure. Just hand her the sharp pointy thing and tell her where to cut. Fly a plane? Just give her a few motion sickness pills and point her in a direction.
Hannah had been no stranger to odd jobs and the kind of work that left your body aching and too tired to do anything but fall into bed at the end of the day. And she had a degree in business administration she had gotten when she was just shy of twenty-four. It had been two years since then and she still had yet to get a job in that field. No, instead she had served complicated coffee drinks to over-caffeinated teenagers. She had slaved at the only all night restaurant in the area, serving greasy hash browns and endless coffee pots to drunks and cops and taxi drivers. She and cleaned apartments and sold cheap jewelry at the mall.
Her most recent job had been washing dogs at the groomer down the street. She had been there three months and was finally getting used to being covered in hair and constantly smelling like wet dog- even after a shower. Then one morning she arrived to find it still locked and a sign on the window thanking the patrons for their loyalty and informing them that they, regrettably, had to close their doors.
With a labored sigh, she turned her attention back to the classifieds.
Personal asst. F/T. Exp. req'd. Fax resume to...
So, technically, she did not have experience as a personal assistant. But, really, who needed experience to know how to make a phone call, pick up dry cleaning, and brew coffee? It no longer mattered to her if experience was required or that even a doctorate was required, she applied to anything that was hiring that didn't require her to strap on clear platform heels, take off her clothes, and slide down a pole.
With a handful of resumes, she grabbed her keys and went to the local office supply store to fax them out. The employees knew her by sight. It had become embarrassing. She debated even going to another store in the same chain so it didn't feel like she had a giant "UNEMPLOYED" scribbled in permanent marker across her forehead. But she always went back to the same place, figuring it was the closest and she really had no business wasting gas money to give her pride a little boost.
–
It was lucky for Hannah that she knew a thing or two about how to cut back. She had grown up with a thrifty mom and with the recent shortage of cash flow, she put her imagination to good use. She had even taken to grabbing the pile of newspaper on the curb before they went out to recycling so she could use them as the bedding for her guinea pig, Ricky's, cage.
After laying the fresh bedding in the cage, she chased the screeching guinea pig around her apartment floor, marveling at how quickly such little things like them could run.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror, her black hair pulled up into a messy bun, her gray eyes, the absurd high cheekbones that hinted at Native American ancestry but were in complete contrast to her pale British-like skin. She was getting a bit thin, she realized with a closer look. In general, she was a size six on a good day, and a size eight in the winter when layers and bulky sweaters were more forgiving of an extra doughnut or two. But joblessness had eliminated take-out food and she generally chose to walk everywhere to save on gas money.
She had just put Ricky away when her cell phone let out a shrill ring.
Her heart always leapt into her throat when the phone rang lately. Which usually proved pointless because the other end of the phone was typically her worried mother or a bill collector hellbent on making her lie and say their check was already in the mail.
"Hello," she said somewhat unenthusiastically into the receiver.
"Hannah Clary, please," came the high-pitched and clipped female voice on the phone, reminding Hannah of her sixth grade troll of a math teacher.
"This is she. Who may I ask is calling?"
"This is Sally from EM Corporation. I am calling with regard to your resume. I was wondering if you would be able to come in for an interview."
Hannah felt her heart thrum against her rib cage. "Yes. Yes, absolutely," she couldn't help but to say whilst chiding herself for sounding too eager, too desperate.
"Will tomorrow at nine sharp work for you?" Sally asked and Hannah could hear the clicking of computer keys as Sally, presumably, multi-tasked.
"Of course."
"Nine sharp," Sally said again, firmly, and hung up the phone.
"And a nice day to you too," Hannah murmured at the silence of the dropped call.
Ten minutes later, she sat with her hands on her knees staring at her phone. She wasn't about to let herself get too excited about it. That had only ever left her devastated in the past. Just because she got an interview did not mean she would get the job. But, gosh, how amazing would that be? It didn't even have to pay that well. It just had to pay... something. Something would be more than she would be getting in a few weeks when her unemployment was over.
With a deep inhale of breath, she went over to her closet to pick out her most professional yet, at the same time, most practical work attire. High heels would look great, of course, but they would imply she wouldn't be able to be on her feet all day if necessary. High necks were a must, no middle-aged female interviewer would want to see some twenty something's gravity-defying chest. No skirts. Same rule goes for the legs when it came to women. She didn't want to come off slutty or like she was, in any way, competition. In the end, she chose black slacks, an emerald green sweater, and black ballet flats. Professional, yet casual. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard.
She spent hours asking herself interview questions and coming up with clear, professional answers that showed her in the best light. Confident and competent without seeming cocky or unwilling to learn.
