Hold The Door, Please | ONC 2022

4. Floor: 25

Haylie

It's starting to feel uncomfortably stuffy and hot. Maybe it's the persistent stress that's causing me to heat up or, more likely, it's the fact that about fifteen people are closely packed like sardines into this elevator. You would think that they'd have a proportionate number of elevators for a building this size – but apparently not.

The robotic voice announces, floor twenty five, and the doors open to expose a printing room. There are tons of computers, printers, and photocopiers – all faintly beeping. Everyone on the floor is surprisingly young-looking and bustles around as if they're in desperate rushes. I immediately recognize the looks of interns all too well, having done my fair share of internships back in school. Underpaid and overworked, doing everything they can to gain that precious experience.

A guy who can't be older than twenty scurries towards the elevator. Two cardboard trays of coffee cups are precariously balanced in his left arm, while a giant cartoon-esque stack of documents is held tightly against his chest in his right arm. 

People ignore him, not even moving an inch to let him into the elevator.

Will suddenly clears his throat. "How about we move over to make room?"

Everyone immediately looks up from their devices and shuffles over. I raise my eyebrows, but no one else seems to be as impressed as I am. I'm more intrigued than ever by him now. Will's presence is almost unbelievably powerful, and I want to know why. That's not something I'd ever directly ask someone like him, though. 

"Good morning, Gavin, how has your morning been?" Will greets him politely as the doors slide shut. It makes me quite happy, seeing someone treating an intern kindly for once.

His face lights up as if Will is the first person to acknowledge his existence today. "Morning Will! It's been a bit hectic," he chuckles. "Ms. Maywin has been having a busy morning."

Will gives him a sympathetic smile. "She's definitely one of the..." he pauses for a moment and furrows his brows together in thought, "tougher CEOs we've had here."

"Understatement of the century," I hear a man behind me mutter beneath his breath.

I scour my brain for the information I was able to dig up about Kayla Maywin. For the CEO of such an enormous company, it was surprisingly little. Only in her late twenties, she's the second youngest grandchild of Leo Maywin. Incredibly accomplished in her professional life; started college early and had a Master's degree by the time she was twenty one, started a tech company with her husband and sold it for millions just a couple years later, and was the vice president of a national charity. Even with all of that attention, she's somehow managed to keep her personal life almost entirely private.

It's amazing but simultaneously disheartening. She's merely a couple years older than me and I know I'll never be able to achieve even a fraction of what she has.

Before I can further self-loathe, my phone begins ringing again.

"Randall?"

"Hey Hayles," he says in his phony nice voice that has never fooled me.

I take in a slow, deep breath to calm myself. The last thing I want is for everyone here to think they're trapped in this box with an uncontrollable hot-head. 

"Yes?"

"Have you gotten my emails?"

"No, why are you expecting me to check them while I'm not at work? What did you even send?"

"I wrote the contracts for the new batch of interns, could you double-check them?" he asks, as his voice fades back into his usual impatient tone.

I wince. Writing and reading the contracts for Randall never fails to make me feel sick to my stomach. Having to see the measly amount we pay them, as well as the hours they're expected to work without any benefits. It reminds me every time what a horrible person I am. So many of them are clearly talented, but are much too inexperienced in the workforce to know how valuable they truly are. They deserve so much better, but Randall still manages to lure them in.

"I'll check them out when I can," I say dryly.

"Thanks!"

"Don't get your hopes up," I mutter. "Bye."

From the corner of my eye, I notice Will glancing over at me. I swear I see a small, amused smile before he quickly turns back to face the doors again. I catch myself taking a peek at him while he's looking away. He's stupidly perfect looking. Trying to spot any of his physical flaws is like playing a rigged game of I Spy. 

I mentally slap myself on the forehead. Am I seriously checking him out?

With work and raising Lola, putting myself back out there has been so low on my list of priorities that I might as well be a nun. Randall has done the complete opposite since we broke up, but I suppose that's none of my business.

To keep my mind on other, less stupid, things, I decide I might as well check Randall's email. I rummage around in my purse, looking for my work phone. As I take the phone out, my bracelet gets caught on one of the toys I leave in my bag to keep Lola occupied while we're out. To my dismay, it gets yanked out and lands on the floor.

As if the universe hates me, the stuffed unicorn lands just right so that the horn hits the floor and activates the voice box.

Let's have a magical adventure!

I feel my face burning with absolute mortification as I scramble to crouch down and grab the toy, quickly stuffing it back into my bag. I hear a couple muffled chuckles and giggles. Part of me is tempted to leave the elevator at the next stop and hide in the washroom – hopefully never seeing any of these people again. The other part of me knows that's incredibly stupid, as I'm already late.

I turn on my phone, a measly attempt to blend back in with everyone else.

Baby shark do-do-do-do-do

There's audible laughter this time. My face is going to combust if it gets any redder at this point. I had completely forgotten I was using my phone to keep Lola distracted at work the other day while I was waiting for Randall to bring her home for the weekend. Unfortunately, her latest obsession is Baby Shark.

Do I explain to these people that I'm not, in fact, an adult who loves children's toys and music? After some internal debating, I decide it's better to stay silent instead of bringing unnecessary attention to it.

"Floor thirty eight."

I'm definitely already late at this point, and the elevator is only about halfway there.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and the elevator comes to a stop.

You have to be kidding me.