Maybe You'll Like It: A Gradual Feminization Novel

Chapter Three

Several years ago during my high school graduation ceremony I heard the term 'imposter syndrome' for the very first time. Notably, the term came from several student speakers, each touching on how they, despite achieving and earning their successes, felt as if they don't deserve those successes. Sure, those kids were referring to getting into a good college, but as I wake up, shower, and get dressed this morning, I'm feeling much the same.

No, it wasn't my fault that things went south at my old job. I did nothing wrong and I was working for an objectively nit-picky asshole. But still, much of me believes I should 'pay' for leaving my job early — to suffer, at least somewhat, in this phase of jobless wandering.

And yet, here I am, with the quickest job turnaround known to man! Not even a full week had gone by and I'd been blessed with another gig that uses my skill set, and just when I needed it most. So of course I feel like an imposter. Of course I feel unworthy of this opportunity. The good fortune of my sister winning two free haircuts somehow landed me a job through the holidays. Not because of anything I did, but because 'The Job Gods' were looking down on me. Frankly, I'm not sure whether to feel guilty or grateful.

Despite Tim's lack of instructions, I figured it couldn't hurt to bring a few tools with me for my first day. After all, if the sad, disorganized Lily's Touch toolbox was just barely enough to fix that one part of Kylie's chair, I can't imagine there's enough equipment for the other issues Bella alluded to.

The only thing I truly knew about today was that it'd be hectic. Hectic and disorganized. But being paid to fix problems might be the best thing for me right now.

========

I wasn't sure who to hope I'd see first at the salon. As much as I got the butterflies from spending that little time with Bella, a small part of me feared that her kindness started and ended with my haircut. Returning now as a coworker — and her brother's hiring decision, not her own — could easily breed resentment. Tim, on the other hand, seemed somewhat erratic in his demeanor and decision making. What if he'd changed his mind overnight? What if I was just an impulse hire?

Alas, Bella was the one waiting at the front desk when I walked in at 8 A.M. and luckily, welcomed me with a smile.

"There he is!" Bella announced, hustling around the desk and greeting me with a big bear hug.

"Heh heh, yeah, hey!" I managed to mutter through her tight squeeze.

The salon was quiet, being a whole hour before opening. Only a couple employees were even in yet — mostly stylists getting a head start on cleaning their stations or charging their devices.

"So I fully intend on giving you a proper tour," she explained. "But Tim wants to meet with you before jumping into anything."

And so I followed Bella to the back room of the first floor, past the washing stations and the row of styling chairs I'd become somewhat familiar with yesterday.

"Take a seat," she said, holding open the door to the bland, lifeless office. And sure enough, there was Tim, seated behind an equally bland desk with his feet kicked up.

"Alex! Welcome, welcome. Thanks for coming," he said, though failing to rise from his seat. "I was a little afraid you wouldn't show up."

I plopped my butt in an ugly green chair next to Bella. "And why is that?"

"Well for one, I realized I gave you almost no details. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Tim laughed — not cruelly, but I found it a bit offensive making light of my joblessness. I set my personal feelings aside and gestured to the toolbox I'd been carrying. "I brought in a few more tools your box didn't have. Just show me around and I'll start fixing what I can. Though I may need to take some trips to the stor—"