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“Big, um, big plans for today?”
Small talk. We could do small talk.
“Job interview,” she answered.
“Interesting. For what?”
“Managing a warehouse in Harbor Bluffs. Some kind of fulfillment center.”
“Hmm…” I mused.
She raised an eyebrow. “What’shmmabout it? It’s a decent job. The pay is fine. I’m qualified for it.”
“Are you going to be happy doing it?”
“Excuse me?” she asked, raising her voice.
“What? Cindy, you’re an outdoors, hands-on person. Are you really going to be happy with spreadsheets and schedules and whatever else you’d be doing?”
“What is everyone’s obsession with being happy with their job?”
“Well, it’s a thing you’re going to be stuck doing for a lot of your adult life,” I reasoned. “You should enjoy it.”
“Pot or the kettle, Luke.”
“Huh?”
“You hate your job.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not,” she argued. “You hate working in construction. Why don’t you quit and go do something you really like?”
“It’s a family business. I’m obligated.”
“To who?”
“To my dad. It was his dream,” I told her.
“Yes, but is it yours?”
No.“It doesn’t matter. I made a promise.”
“But…”
“Just drop it, Cindy,” I told her. “I know I’m being hypocritical, but…”
“Fine. But I don’t want to hear anything about my warehouse job thing.”
“Deal. You have my blessing to be unhappily employed.”
“And you have mine,” she said before getting up. She slammed back the rest of her coffee and cleaned the mug.
“Do you need a ride?” I asked.
“I’ve called an Uber. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Okay. Then I’m going to head out. Um, good luck.”
