July 13th, 2016
After a nice warm shower I sat down at my desk, getting ready to update In Vogue. As I was finishing up I got a new message on AIM. Plenty of people have abandoned AIM but I can’t bear to part with my nostalgia. It was Alicia.
HolaGurrl: is it tru? data entry lol
MassieKur: where have u been!?
HolaGurrl: phone died + sooooooo busy sorry
MassieKur: some1 set me up! need u 2 help me find out who
HolaGurrl: how do u know?
MassieKur: some1 literally called my clients and said I didn’t work there
HolaGurrl: oh shit! did u tell EB that?
MassieKur: she knew, fired me anyway 🙂 I love life
HolaGurrl: 😦 ill b lonely now. im on it!
MassieKur: keep me updated – theyre going down!
July 25th, 2016
If I had to describe data entry in a single phrase, it would be mind-numbing. I’m no Albert Einstien but I’m leaps and bounds above this. All you do is sit around…and enter…you guessed it…data. I usually finish my stack in about two hours and then have nothing to do the rest of the day, but that’s where Gen, or Genevieve Montenegro, comes in.
If I had to describe Gen in a single phrase, it would be unpredictable. I never know what she’s going to say, do, or what shenanigans she’s going to get herself into. She was charming, cunning, quick-witted and above all effortlessly fun. Her eyes glistened underneath her bangs which she rocked everyday with some colored highlights. A couple years ago I would’ve considered her “goth,” but that’s not the case.
There was always a smile on my face and we chatted for what seemed like hours in between our work. Her stories were captivating. I learned her family was also wealthy and she traveled quite a bit. The best part, however, is that she was a queen like me, at least in the office. Aside from Jessica, everyone treated her the way OCD treated me.
It was a typical day in the office. My heels clicking down the hallway, the quietness of the carpeted floor, sitting in the cubicle, chatting, and waiting for the day to be over. It was a boring but easy rhythm, or so I though. As I walked into the break room for lunch I heard a grunt of annoyance.
“Uggghh!” It was Gen.
“What’s going on?” I replied.
“Someone ate my lunch, again” she said.
“Ooo, someone’s a regular customer at Cafe de la Genevive?” I joked.
“Ha,” she scoffed, “more like a repeat shoplifter.”
I giggled, “you should alert the authorities”
“I’m more into street justice” she smirked.
“Are you suggesting a stakeout?” I said.
“Ugh! too much effort,” she replied, “it’s nothing a sticky-note can’t fix. But it could leave sticky residue and I just bought this, ugh! “
She gazed at her lunchbox, which was a vintage-looking tin box with a floral pattern, and frowned. It was kind of cute how worked up she was over potential sticky-note residue. It reminded me that I was in a totally different world down here. Upstairs was tense and competitive. Down here, drama was a stolen lunch. Don’t get me wrong, that’s super rude, but it’s not getting-fired-for-something-you-didn’t-do rude.
I’m not saying I didn’t miss interning. I was definitely not interested in working in an office, or data entry. Not to mention, I still have no idea who sabotaged me. Down here there was no was for me to investigate so I had to hope that Alicia would pull through. I don’t expect her to put her entire life on hold for me, but I was disappointed she hadn’t heard anything. Am I not even worth the gossip?
July 27th, 2016
“Thievery!” the shout came from the break room. I popped out of my chair and headed into the break room.
“That’s the third time this week!” I said.
“I risked sticky residue for nothing!” Gen exclaimed, “this is bullshit!”
She slammed her lunchbox on the table. Two other employees simply stared at us with a look of confusion washing over their face.
“What?” Gen snapped at them. One employee offered a shrugs and they both scuffled away.
“Why are you yelling?” Jessica walked in. I stood there awkwardly.
Gen paused and crossed her arms, “None of your business.”
This response elicited an slight smirk from Jessica, “Fine, be that way, just stop shouting. Some of us are trying to work,” Jessica turned around to walk out, ponytail swinging, “and shut the refrigerator door, your wasting electricity!”
Gen slammed the door shut, squinting her eyes at Jessica as she left. It was like she was trying to throw daggers at Jessica with her mind. I stood there awkwardly, thrown in the mix.
“So, stake-out?” I offered, trying to cut the tension.
Gen’s face instantly changed from angry to amused, “we’re going to catch this bitch and I already have a plan…”
My word is my bond,
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