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“Sounds good,” she replied. “We have to go grocery shopping today. I went for a midnight snack last night and only found a few Ritz.”
I groaned. “Do we have to?”
“Do you want to eat tomorrow?”
“Fine. I hate the grocery store. I feel like everyone is judging me.”
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
“Because we’re buying all the ready-to-eat foods,” I said. “We should buy baking stuff and pretend we’re going to cook for real.”
“Everyone buys ready-to-eat stuff,” she said. “No one is judging you.”
“I’ve seen the side eyes.”
She laughed and took her coffee. “No, you haven’t. No one is paying any attention to you.”
She was probably right. It was a snowball effect. The bad job and lack of fulfillment was making me look at all aspects of my life through a new lens of pure judgment.
We sat down to our breakfast of pancakes and juice.
“How are you feeling about the interview?” she asked.
“I’m hopeful but realistic,” I answered. “I know those other applicants were way more qualified. I’m just happy I got the chance to interview. It was a good jumping-off point. I’m going to keep applying for more jobs. I’ll get better at interviewing.”
“Don’t count yourself out just yet,” she said. “You are a qualified candidate.”
“Thanks. I hope so. When I got back to the office, I could barely even look at Harold. I know I can’t do this job anymore.”
“You’re going to find a better job,” she said.
“I know I will. It’s out there in the universe and that’s that. I hope I get this one, but if I don’t, I’m not going to cry.”
“I can make another call,” she offered.
I shook my head. “Definitely not. You got my foot in the door, but now I have to do this on my own.”
“Alright,” she said. “But if you want me to, I will. I will go to bat for you.”
“Thank you.”
After breakfast, we changed and got ready for the day of adulting. We went grocery shopping and picked up a few things we needed from the pharmacy.
“Let’s go to the beach,” she said.
“It’s not very warm.”
“Warm enough,” she replied. “The sun is out. I need to soak up some sun.”
“It’s not like you have to convince me,” I said, smiling. “Lazy day lounging on the beach sounds perfect.”
We changed and headed down to our favorite beach. It was the beach frequented by the affluent who owned homes along the cliffside. They had their own personal access to said beach. We didn’t care.
There were those who shot us looks and reminded us we didn’t belong. We ignored them. One day, I might just belong on a beach like this. Maybe I would have my own private beach. That was laughable. Executive assistants could only rise so high on the food chain. I would be satisfied with a few extra rungs. Nothing more was needed.
“I can’t wait until I can retire,” I said.
Trisha laughed from her spot on the beach beside me. “I’m thinking we have a little while before that can happen.”
