Attitude Adjustment (Unfinished)

10 Singing Humiliation

"I'm sorry, Hazel. But after giving you numerous warnings, we regretfully have chosen to let you go," Lisa says the following Thursday.

As I expected.

"Thank you for the opportunity." I smile, then proceed to collect my belongings.

I wonder if my colleagues will miss me at all. But truth be told, I never connected with them anyway.

The next day, I shower at the gym, then meet Harry at his office. It's a beautiful, modern place with indoor trees, colorful furniture and tall ceilings. He shows me their cafeteria, where employees can help themselves to snacks, flavored water, tea, coffee, a big bowl of fruits and a bunch of other free things.

There's even a small gym, a tennis table, little nooks for naps, and dogs. Yes, people bring their dogs to work.

"I was worried that this job would be depressing..." I say to Harry.

He laughs. "It is. We need as much help as we can get to balance it."

At least he's honest. "I'm scared of the phone calls to be honest, would it be possible for me to focus on operational work before moving to one-on-ones?"

"You don't have to do phone calls at all. I don't want to force you to do a job that you're not going to enjoy. If you don't enjoy your job, you won't succeed. And what we do here is too important. It's not something I can force people to do."

I wonder if Harry has a personal motivation, but I don't want to cross the line by asking.

"Let me introduce you to someone you'll be working with." He steps into a small office with desks and computers, and motions at a curvy young woman with blonde hair. "This is Andrea, she's in charge of setting up the appointments between our members and professionals. You know, nutritionists, career counselors, therapists. She'll train you."

"Nice to meet you!" Andrea rises from her chair to shake my hand.

She smells fruity and her gold jewelry brings out her bright green eyes.

I notice her French manicure and instantly feel insecure. I can count on my hand how many times I've gone to a nail salon in my entire life.

Harry leaves me with her and I do my best to appear friendly. Inside, I'm praying she doesn't hate my guts. Any second, I expect her to say something hurtful.

"How long have you been here for?" I ask as we sit together.

Her desk is cluttered with colorful knick-knacks, polaroid pictures, little toys, paperwork.

"Four months! I told Harry that I was getting sick of my job. I worked at an ice-cream store before. Customer service. Blah." She sticks her tongue out in digust.

"You don't like ice-cream?"

"Are you kidding? I love ice-cream. No, I hate men. See these girls?" She points at her breasts squeezed in a white button-down. "Try selling ice-cream to creeps who can't stop staring. And I have a baby face. So imagine how that goes."

I wince. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine, it gave me thick skin to deal with assholes. It could be worse, right?" She sighs, rummaging through paperwork. "What about you? What's your story?"

"Um, personally or professionally?"

"Whichever you're comfortable with sharing."

"I just got fired from a bank teller job. Yesterday, actually."

She gasps. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, it's more than fine. Harry was so kind to offer me this job."

"He's amazing! I love working for him. It's been a blessing."