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A blue flash followed by a dull thud on the wall by my head pulled my attention from the line of code I had been working on for the last hour. One of the stress relief balls stamped with our company’s logo was on the ground near my feet.
“Maxine,” I growled, “that’s not how you use a stress ball.”
“Really?” She glanced at the green foam ball she was rolling between her palms. “Because I’m definitely feeling less stress.”
“Try it and I’ll open up ten credit cards in your name and change all your passwords before the ball hits the ground.” Jin issued the threat without bothering to even look up from his monitors. He didn’t need eye contact to strike fear into the heart of his enemies and friends alike. His hacking skills were legendary.
Maxine let out a loud sigh. “You two are no fun. How did I get stuck with such boring podmates?”
“You were one of the first female hires in our department,” Jin responded matter-of-factly, his lean fingers flying across the keyboard.
The development company we worked for had designed the office with the intent of creating a “fun and collaborative” environment. Desks were pushed together to create little pods that were supposed to encourage teams to work together and to foster a sense of community that closed doors and cubicles prohibited. It mostly just felt like a way to make sure people weren’t scrolling through social media all day.
The three of us lovingly referred to our pod as Minority Square. When we’d been assigned our desks, Maxine and I were the only women working in the development department. Jin was Korean and the only non-white team member for a long time. Diversity in the Savannah tech scene had definitely not kept pace with the rest of the country.
“Fine.” Maxine drew the word out. “What are we having for lunch?”
I squinted at her, trying to figure out why she was asking a question that she already knew the answer to.
“It’s Tuesday,” I pointed out, on the off chance that she had forgotten what day of the week it was.
“We always have tacos on Tuesdays,” Jin chimed in, his eyes finally leaving his screen.
Maxine let out a weary sigh. “I know it’s Tuesday and that we always do tacos for lunch on Tuesdays, but don’t you all ever get bored doing the same thing every week?”
“No,” Jin and I responded simultaneously.
“Taco Tuesdays are sacred. Why would you ever pass up two-dollar tacos? Queso and fresh chips?” I asked, genuinely confused about where this was coming from. We all looked forward to our Tuesday taco lunch dates. Or I’d thought we all looked forward to it, anyway.
“Forget it.” Maxine set her stress ball down and turned her attention to her own monitors, her shoulders deflating like a leaky balloon.
Jin and I exchanged a glance, both wondering whether we should prod her about this sudden dissatisfaction with our traditions. He jerked his chin in her direction with wide eyes, a clear “You ask.”
“Maxi-pad,” I baited her, dodging the stress ball that flew toward my face, “is there anything you want to talk about?”
“I would like to start by mentioning that I refuse to acknowledge that nickname, but if I did respond to it, I would say that I just feel like my life has become so predictable lately. I’m worried that I’m in a rut. I haven’t even had sex — ”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Jin pleaded. “Save that for girl time.”
“Aww, Jinny-poo, you know we think of you as one of the girls.” Maxine’s voice was sugary sweet.
“And oh, how I wish you didn’t,” he mumbled, retreating to the safety of his monitor.
“Do you really think switching up Taco Tuesday is going to be the act of spontaneity you need to get out of a life rut?”
I could hear the skepticism in my question, but I was struggling to believe that tacos might make the difference — just as much as I was struggling to believe Maxine’s life was in a rut. It was more than likely just a case of the Tuesday blues.
She shrugged. “You never know. We could go to that new gastropub instead and maybe I would just so happen to bump into a doctor who’d popped in to grab a quick lunch. His scrubs would be stretched across drool-worthy biceps and a perfect, round butt. You know how much I love a good bubble butt.” She didn’t even pause when Jin groaned. “He’d look at me from across the room and our eyes would lock. I could meet my future husband — all because we decided not to get tacos today.”
“Your mind is a truly fascinating place,” I said, slightly awed by her ability to dream up these scenarios on a whim. “If it means that much to you, I’m willing to skip Taco Tuesday this week. I’d hate to be the reason you missed out on meeting your future husband.”
“I’m fine being the reason you miss meeting your future husband.” Jin had to dodge both our stress balls. “God! Fine, we can try the gastropub. Geez, no one ever tells you how violent women are.”
Something about Maxine’s fear curled deep inside me and grew roots, roots I fed the rest of the day with my own deep-seated worries. I didn’t know where these worries were coming from.
When I’d left Beacon Hill for college, I promised myself that I would stop allowing the label of “misfit” or “the weird one” to define me. I promised that I’d learn to like who I was, to be proud of me. And I had accomplished what I set out to do. But even as I ate my delicious bacon avocado club sandwich, there was that niggling doubt poking at me.
The same doubt followed me home from work, building and building until I felt the need to give voice to my fears.
