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The line was ginormous, and I was all the way at the end. I wore my best outfit, though how it managed to escape being wrinkled like everything else I owned escaped me. Maybe it was because I kept it in a garment bag on a hook in the back seat of my car, while everything else was piled up on the front seat.
I was living out of my car; that’s how low I’d sunk. I tried not to think about it too much. There was no use getting all depressed about my situation. It wasn’t always going to be like it was now. All I needed was a job and a few paychecks, and I could rent my own apartment. Things would start looking up, and I could put this entire experience behind me.
It was a little bit scary the first few nights I spent outdoors. I drove around until I found a secluded spot, and then turned off all my lights and locked the doors. It got pretty cold at night, but luckily I had a sleeping bag. I told myself it was like camping. I used to like camping when I was younger. This was just a hiccup in what was otherwise a smooth life.
I grew up in and around Boston. I’d gone to school to become a newscaster. It was part journalism, part on-camera acting, and I got really good grades. I had a good nose for the stories people wanted to hear and a way of explaining complex facts that won me straight As. I was on a path straight to the top when I was interrupted by a hurricane in the form of a man.
I landed a coveted internship at a local media station, beating out a bunch of other students for the opportunity. And I fell in love with a classmate who invited me to move in with him. Thank goodness I bought the car while I was living there. Marcus tried to talk me out of it, telling me that I didn’t need to drive around Boston. There was public transportation and most people just walked. There wasn’t a lot of good parking, and it would be more expensive to pay for another spot in his apartment building’s lot.
I shrugged off all his negativity and picked out the perfect little compact car. I just wanted something that was my own, and at the time I didn’t think that I would ever find myself in dire financial straits. The car was just big enough to cart my groceries around and to get me from point A to point B. I had to have a car to do my job, since part of it involved going out into the community to cover the news.
Marcus could only see that extra four hundred per month for a parking spot in one of the most prestigious locations in the city. And I agreed, it was a fortune, but what was I going to do? I loved my little internship, and I didn’t think the money mattered.
That was before he kicked me out. At least I had a roof over my head, though, so I was grateful that I’d stood up to him. Then again, if I was a little mousier, I might still have a spot in his bed. Not that I wanted it.Good riddance,I told myself. He was a cheat and a liar, and he was seeing other women behind my back, all while telling me that he loved me.
I didn’t need him. I would land on my feet real soon. I quit my internship as soon as Marcus kicked me out. Course credit was great, but I needed something to pay the bills. I needed food in my belly and an apartment to go home to at night, in that order. My career as a newscaster would have to wait.
When Marcus first broke things off, I found a job at a local coffee shop. It was a fun environment with all the free coffee I could drink, but it wasn’t enough. I needed a real job with benefits and stock options. I needed something I could sink my teeth into, something that would give me at least fifty or sixty thousand a year. The only thing I could think of that would provide that much money was executive secretary.
Of course, there were other, more lucrative jobs that you could get without a master’s degree, but I was too shy to dance on tables. I didn’t have the chops to be a stockbroker, and I couldn’t sell anything to anyone. My bachelor’s degree was nearly worthless without practical experience. And besides, the job market was saturated with people who had better, more impressive resumes.
I shifted on my feet, eager to see if the line was moving up ahead. There were at least twenty other candidates stretching from the door of the massive office building out to the street. I was one of the last, which was fine. I was optimistic enough to think that they would give us all an equal shot. All I had to do was impress the hiring manager and I was sure to get in. None of the rest of the women had what I had: the strength of character and presence of mind to dedicate their every waking moment to the job. Who was I kidding? None of the rest of them were as desperate as I was. I knew for a fact that at least ninety percent of the other candidates had homes and bathrooms with running water.
I tried not to think about the “bath” I’d taken earlier that day, rubbing antiseptic wipes down my arms and across my stomach. I still smelled faintly of lemon, but that was covered up by the lilac of my deodorant.
It was a long shot, but I knew that I could do the job as advertised if they just gave me a chance. I was great at organizing my own schedule, I was friendly when answering the phones, I could talk to people as long as I wasn’t trying to sell them anything, and if I had the money, I could purchase a nice wardrobe. Right now, I had a few pieces that would help me get my foot in the door. Part of being an on-air personality was looking fashionable, and I was no stranger to aesthetics.
I’d hit rock bottom, and I knew it. I’d fallen fast without a safety net and only had a few weeks left before I was going to have to strike out for other parts of the country. If I couldn’t find a way to afford a place to live, I was going to have to drive south. Maybe I could get a job in New Jersey or Pennsylvania, in a small town where the cost of living was drastically reduced.
It would mean giving up on my dreams and leaving the city that I loved, but it was looking more and more likely. The line began to move, and I got excited. A few more steps brought me that much closer to the door. Another two women went inside, leaving the rest of us still stranded on the doorstep.
I looked down the long line of prospective secretary’s, hoping that I could outshine them. I guessed that a few had MBAs, maybe a few had worked for other CEOs. I didn’t have either of those two boxes checked off, but I did have moxie and stamina. It was ridiculous. I was out-gunned, and I knew it. I should just walk away and leave the job to the experts. But I stayed put against my better judgment. I had nowhere else to turn and no other rabbits up my sleeve. This job was the end of the line. Either I landed it, or I would have to turn around in defeat.
I wasn’t sure why the employment specialist at the homeless shelter had turned me on to this gig. It wasn’t the typical kind of job that opened up for those without means. I recognized the office as being one of the poshest in the city. Whoever worked there was bound to be rich and probably would never have experienced hardship. I didn’t want to judge, but barring extraordinary circumstances, it was unlikely that anyone else working there was currently without a home.
I wasn’t sure exactly what they did there. It wasn’t a bank, and it wasn’t a manufacturing plant. In a perfect world, I would have had time to do some Internet research. I didn’t know what I was going to say in an interview if I couldn’t talk about the specific industry I was applying for.
It looked like a money management firm, or maybe the corporate headquarters for a multinational conglomerate. Feeling ill prepared, I touched the shoulder of the woman in front of me.
“Excuse me,” I said gently.
She turned around, giving me a smile that was at once friendly and a little bit nervous. She was obviously as worried as I was about landing the position. All of the other women in line were probably just as desperate as I was. At least some of them needed a win that day.
“Do you know what this company does?” I asked.
“It’s in fashion,” the woman answered.
I tried to remember what I knew about the fashion industry. I’d taken one economics class back in freshman year, and the focus had mostly been on countries and currency. “What kind of fashion?” I asked, feeling stupid.
“They have a few hot designers, but they also do down market sales. There’s a lot of money involved,” she replied, not giving me any trouble. If she thought I was out of my element, she didn’t say so. “There are a lot of people here to apply.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I wasn’t expecting so much competition.”
“It’s for a good position. Executive secretary to the CEO.” She straightened up as if the mere mention of the title was enough to starch her spine.
“I know,” I replied. The job counselor had told me as much. It was the only reason I was there, because that kind of title came with a paycheck that would allow me to live on my own.
Most people in Boston had a roommate or two, but I was on my own. I thought about answering some online ads forroommate wanted, but the thought of moving in with a stranger gave me the creeps. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, so I really should just suck it up. The problem was at the moment, I didn’t even have enough saved up to split the rent.
