AllFreeNovel
Share Us
JON
Iscribbled across the paper. I was never going to be accused of being an artist, but thankfully, I had an amazing design team. They could take my ideas and sketches and turn them into works of art. I was constantly trying to think of the next big thing. There was only so much one could do when it came to designing a watch, but I tried to be fresh. I wanted to be cutting edge. My customers wanted to have the nextitthing before the rest of the companies poached my ideas and made them their own.
I finished my scribbles, made some notes on the bottom of the page, and then signed it. I always signed it. I added the date and then took a photo of it with the newspaper Mabel insisted on bringing me every morning. I rarely read the thing, but it was a good way to prove the date.
I went through all the extra steps just in case the sketch fell into the wrong hands. I wanted to make sure I could prove it was mine. Granted, they could just use my ideas, but it had saved my ass once before. An unscrupulous company had tried to steal my design. When we went to court, I had my signed and dated sketch to prove it was originally mine.
I stuck it in an envelope marked confidential and added the name of my head of design. The afternoon slump was kicking in. Mabel wasn’t shoving water down my throat, which meant she was likely off doing something. That meant I could sneak down to the breakroom and get some coffee.
She never allowed me to have caffeine in the afternoons. I was hoping to sneak a candy bar as well.
I felt a bit like a kid sneaking out of his room in the middle of the night. I looked up and down the hall to make sure the coast was clear. Then it was a mad dash to the breakroom. When I walked in, a few of the HR team were sitting around talking.
“She’s the one,” one of them said.
“I don’t know. With no degree or college in general, that might not work.”
“But she has a strong personality,” another insisted. “She didn’t seem flighty. And she didn’t go to college because she was raised by a single mom.”
“Who are you talking about?” I asked with my interest piqued.
“We’ve been doing interviews all day for the assistant position,” one answered.
“And one of them doesn’t have a degree?” I asked.
“No college at all,” the dissenter chimed in.
“Is that a requirement?” I asked. I should know the answer. It was my assistant’s position they were trying to fill.
“No, but we interviewed some very qualified applicants,” he replied.
“And those qualified applicants are looking at this as a steppingstone,” one of the ones pushing for the person asked. “They aren’t going to stick around for long. This is just a job they can put on a resume to look good. Our girl doesn’t care about resumes or status. She just wants a good job.”
“I think that sounds like a qualified candidate,” I replied. “I’m not interested in someone with an art degree or a business degree. I don’t need someone thinking of this as an entry-level position they can use to move sideways or up in the company. I think it’s pretty well known I don’t like change. I want an assistant I can train once and not have them leave in a month. Give her another interview.”
With that said, I took my coffee and Snickers and attempted to make it back to my office undetected. Mabel was waiting at the door. Without a word, she stuck out her hand. I sighed with defeat and relinquished the coffee I had only gotten a sip of. She stuck out her other hand and waited with pinched lips.
“Mabel,” I pouted.
“Hand it over. I just put your fruit and water on your desk. Trust me, you’ll feel much better for it.”
“How do you know I don’t have a stash of candy in my drawer?”
“Because I organize that desk and I know what is or isn’t in there,” she replied.
I slapped the Snickers into her hand and stomped into my office. I was going to miss her, but I was going to love being able to eat chocolate whenever I wanted. I knew I could just straight up tell her no but I wouldn’t dare. I respected her way too much and I was raised to respect my elders. I sat down at my desk and ate the cheese and grapes while drinking the water. It did help a little with the slump. It would be a cold day in hell before I ever admitted it to her though.
After work, I joined Peter at the batting cages.
“Ready for me to show you how it’s done?” my little brother teased.
“Why do you always talk shit when you know you can’t back it up?” I shot back.
“Because I know you haven’t been practicing and I fully plan on capitalizing on that,” he said, laughing.
“I don’t need to practice.” I lined up, adjusted my shoulders, and waited for the first ball to be lobbed at me. The crack of the bat against the ball was a beautiful sound. “See?”
“Whatever,” he muttered.
