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“Yeah, I got that when you turned into the corporate park with the twenty-foot sign. You nervous about the interview?” I shake my head. Nervousness is a sign of caring and desire, two traits I don’t have. Not when it comes to this.
Fairbanks Paper is one of the larger manufacturers in Arizona. They supply every major paper distributor as well as all the paper and cardboard needs for four of the top ten big box companies in the state. Employing over ten thousand people, they are one of the major employers in Arizona. A Fairbanks job provides stability and good benefits.
However, recalling their product list nearly puts me to sleep. The reason I’m here is because my dad’s good friend is a senior VP in their operations group. Dad has been hyping me up for nearly two years. Like two parents discussing an arranged marriage, the dads have plotted and waited for the so-called perfect opportunity. The VP has delayed hiring for an open position for nearly two months, waiting for me to graduate. Dad has told me the position is all mine; all I have to do is meet a few people.
A desk job in the land of cubicles with the title of continuous improvement analyst. Who creates these names? It screams mind-numbing, walking on a treadmill and getting nowhere position. Continuous improvement, i.e. you’ll always be working, and you’re never going to get it right no matter what you do.
It’s not what I want. But Dad has put in so much effort I had to agree to take the appointment. Three back-to-back interviews, the last one with my dad’s friend who has the final decision.
“Now, when you get in there, try not to mention Adrienne’s name over sixty-three times. If you reach seventy, they may think you are just a PR firm working as her proxy.” Trent doubles down on the one topic that will always get my attention.
I give him a serious side-eye and adjust the piece of silk around my neck that is choking me.
“Dude.” He snaps up from his prone position and reaches for my tie. “You look like you’re going to a funeral. Fairbanks is a big deal. They own like a dozen other companies. They have offices in seventeen states. If you get in on the ground floor, you would be set for life.”
Trent says the words as if it’s a prize. All I hear is a lifelong prison sentence. “You’ve done more research about them than me. Maybe you should interview.”
“I wish,” he mumbles, pulling on the knot of the tie and straightening it. “You left their brochure out, and you didn’t get home until two in the morning. I had no choice but to read it from cover to cover a dozen times. By the way, the internet at your parents’ house sucks.”
“Yeah, the parental units aren’t big users and never understood why people pay more for faster speed. As you found out last night, they’re just fine with slow and steady.” I laugh and leave out the part where my parents manage their budget with an iron fist. They scrape and save every single nickel. From the moment I was born, they put away money for college for me. Double-coupon days and outlet malls were a way of life growing up. Savings with a purpose is how my dad explained it to me once. “There will always be others in more need than us, and we have a responsibility to step up,” Mom expounded as we packed barrels once a month to be shipped to relatives in the Caribbean. They despise debt and never carry a credit card balance. They’ve paid off the mortgage early. They are big believers in sacrificing today’s comfort for tomorrow’s promise. Another reason why they get along so well with the other most patient person in the world I know—Adrienne.
I’m grateful for everything they do and don’t complain that in today’s world, faster internet isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. I connect all my devices to Adrienne’s Parent’s house. She’s a social media influencer and has the fastest internet speed in the city. She shot me a text timed for the minute my plane landed home with the new household password, changed the day before: A&LBack2_GetHer—Adrienne and Lucas back together.
No wonder I believe she walks on water. She does something incredibly thoughtful like this as easily as others breathe.
I step out of the car and lean down, sticking my head through the open window. “You sure you’re good out here? It may be a few hours.”
“All good.” Trent holds up his phone to me. “I’ve already connected to their Wi-Fi. I love your parents, but your mom wanted to teach me to crochet or something. Go slay. I want to hear all about the interview when you get back.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I feel the buzz of my phone and reach for it. A text from Adrienne. My disposition immediately shifts as a smile pulls on my face.
“Say hi to Adrienne for me,” Trent jokes. “Tell her to rest up for our date tonight. She’s going to need it.”
I give Trent my middle finger and walk away from the car. I swipe the phone.
Adrienne: BND you are a rock star. Fairbanks has no clue how lucky they are about to become. Remember an interview is a two-way street. Don’t forget to grill them, you have a say in your future. I know you feel a way about your dad, but this is your life, your future. You know in your heart what you want. Do that. Always follow your wonderfully incredible heart—it’s the absolute best. Good luck, and I want to hear all the deets tonight. You have no idea how much joy having you home brings me.
My feet stop just outside the doors to the building, and I reread the text two more times. She always has the right words for me at the right time. She always has.
Me: GND—thanks. I never worry about my future, not with you by my side. Thanks again for last night. Thank you for tomorrow and the next day and all the days to follow. It feels good to be home. I’ll post a Paul Revere when I get home.
Paul Revere is a signal we created back in middle school, posting lights in our bedroom windows to communicate. She types back a reply immediately.
Adrienne: I’ll have to dust off my binoculars. Yours is the only bedroom I’ve ever stared into.
Before I can reply, I see the three dots of her typing.
Adrienne: the only one I’ve ever wanted to.
My chest tightens, and I’m back on that tightrope high above the canyon. I ignore the dangerous wind swirling around me. My fingers type without thinking.
Me: the only one you’ll ever need to.
While my head rethinks what I’ve done, my heart knows better. Anytime I’ve had the courage to share my most vulnerable thought with Adrienne over the years I’ve been rewarded. I hold my breath and wait for her response.
Adrienne: I hope you feel the same. Get to your interview. Companies frown on lateness. We’ll catch up later—we have the rest of our lives. B2B4eva.
I glance at the corner of the screen, and she’s right. I only have two minutes to check in. I type back.
