You ever had a day when all your bad luck caught up with you at once?
For me, that was today.
It started at work. I'd missed a few more shifts than I should have, but it was hard balancing college, a job, and getting my dad's house ready to sell.
He died about a month ago. That was the real start of the bad luck, but I hadn't counted it as a bad thing, in itself.
Quite the opposite, in fact: good riddance.
Anyways, I knew it wasn't a good sign when my boss summoned me to his office about halfway through my shift.
"Elwood, have a seat," he said, gesturing at the stained chair in front of his desk.
I sat, not bothering to point out that I preferred 'Ellie,' for the hundredth time. I'd always hated my given name, but Mr. Walters refused to call me anything else. He probably thought 'Ellie' was a sissy name for a guy, but I didn't care. I'd never even bothered telling him I was genderqueer, too. I kind of wanted to keep my job.
"I assume you know why I've called you here," he said, lowering himself into his chair with the care of a man with chronic lower-back pain, and fixing me with a blood-shot stare.
My heart thudded in my chest. Being put on the spot always gave me anxiety.
"I know I've missed a few shifts recently," I said.
"If you can call six 'a few.'" He pushed a printed schedule across his desk. He'd highlighted my missed shifts in bright orange, with little crisscrossed gray lines through them. As if I didn't already know which days I worked.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Walters. It's just that my dad had so much stuff." I rub the side of my face, conscious of Mr. Walters's gaze as he focuses on my painted nails and silver rings, and of the disapproval in his expression.
"We're sorry for your loss, of course," he said.
He always said 'we,' as if he spoke for the whole company or something, even though he was only a midlevel manager.
"However..." He taps the highlighted page. "Six shifts in a month isn't something I can overlook."
"I have midterms, too," I pointed out. "I can't miss class."
He frowned, clearly unmoved. "The thing is, Elwood, the Company wants people it can depend on — people who see a future here. Do you see a future here?"
Sure. A hella depressing one. It's not like I'm majoring in design so I can take Mr. Walters's place someday.
"I always strive to do my best, Mr. Walters," I said, opting for a non-answer. "And I have a good customer service record."
His frown didn't budge. "Elwood, can you assure me you won't miss any more shifts for the next four months?" he asked.
I winced. There was no way.
"Actually, I—"
"Think carefully before you answer," he warned, wagging a finger at me. "We're all very sorry that your father passed away, and no doubt your 'studies' are important to you, but I need your assurance that you're invested here."
Sweat broke out beneath my arms, trickling down my sides beneath my cheap shirt. I've never been able to lie, outright.
"I can't promise that, Mr. Walters," I said. "I take my job seriously, but I have other obligations, at the moment. Is there some way I could make up the missed time? I can fill in for—"
He sighed loudly, lifting a hand and cutting me off. "I'm afraid not, Elwood. As much as I understand your position, my position is to defend the bottom line, and you're not holding it." He held out a hairy-knuckled hand. "I'll take your ID. Your services are no longer required."
YOU ARE READING
Bad Luck, Baby
ParanormalEllie Harris (they/he) has hit a patch of bad luck. Their dad died, they lost their job, their boyfriend cheated on them, and, to top things off, they literally trip over a black cat. What else could go wrong? Then Ellie learns their dad was a witc...
