The Spinster's Club

Cass: One

"I hate you, Cece," Cass muttered to herself as she waited to place her order at the trendy café opposite the hospital where she worked. "You made me do this and I will never forgive you. I knew going for that job was a bad idea. That's why I didn't want to do it in the first place. I don't know if I can ever show my face in the department again."

"And whose idea was it to insist that we all change our appearance? You idiot." She cringed as she saw her reflection in the mirror behind the barista. She knew changing their appearance had been her own contribution to the Spinster Club challenge. She winced; spinster might be accurate but it was such a horrible word. If it was OK for guys to be called a Bachelor, why wasn't there a better word for unmarried women? Yet another example of how unfair life was for women, she thought darkly.

And when Cece had suggested they needed to up their personal antes, changing an outfit or hairdo had seemed such an easy option. Perhaps I didn't think that through too well, she despaired. I only wanted to look more professional, she thought and glared at the stranger in the mirror. Whoever was staring back at her simply wasn't her. She didn't wear makeup at all at work and wore scrubs when with her patients, and here she was kitted out like a painted doll - if there was one called 'Power suit Barbie.' anyway. This creature was all eyes and pouty lips. No wonder they didn't take me seriously in the interview, she seethed. She resisted scrubbing off the garish lipstick with the back of her hand. The coffee will probably melt that off, she thought. I'm surprised I didn't chew it off during the interview. She had a very strong recollection of gnawing at her bottom lip while spending way too long pondering her answers to the panel's questions.
Even that had gone badly. Why do I always get so tongue tied when I'm being interviewed? She had no trouble at all expressing her thoughts with her patients and their families – even to the doctors if she had to. But I need to be able to take that next step and create policies, procedures and shit like that.

She should never have let Martin get that other job over her. His new position would have been so much better for her skill set. This new job she was being interviewed for was as a team leader, with less clinical involvement. Ahh well. It might not have been the perfect job but it would have been a step in the right direction.

She sighed as she took a step closer to the counter, and the full extent of the trainwreck that was her 'power suit' was revealed in the mirror. The girl who'd sold it to her last week had told her it made her look very smart and authoritative. But the lapels of the jacket gaped – as she knew they would. How she envied those girls with small, pert breasts that allowed their clothes to hang properly. Nothing hangs right when you've got a front verandah like this. And if you get the fit on the bust right, it hangs too damn long. And don't get me started on my back verandah. I should never have gone for the matching pencil skirt, she lamented. I'm sure it's winkled three quarters up my arse while I'm standing in this queue. She'd worried at it countless times during the interview – and probably shown way too much leg in the process. How can anyone concentrate in a getup like this? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other trying to ease the skirt back down to a more modest length. I will NEVER wear this outfit again, she swore.

Going for this job was a complete disaster, she decided in disgust. There I was all set to knock off two of those bloody challenges today, and now I'm right back to square one. Worse even. I don't even want to think about Romy and Amy's challenges. How the Hell can I get my blood pumping with a new experience – and a new guy if I can't even master dressing myself properly.

"Hah!" she exclaimed out loud just as she reached the counter.
The barista looked up with a start.
"Oh sorry, Sue. I didn't mean to startle you."
The look on Sue's face was comical. "Cass, is that you? Strewth! I didn't recognise you."

Cass screwed up her nose. "Yeah, I know. Ridiculous get- up, isn't it?"

Sue was very diplomatic. 'Well I wouldn't say that, exactly. It's um different." She took in the hair and makeup and gaping top silently. "Umm, do you want your usual?"

Cass nodded. "Regular skinny latte, please." It was her daily treat: one good coffee a day – to make up for the shit they offered in the staff room.

"To go?" Sue looked at her expectantly.

Cass looked over her shoulder. The coffee shop wasn't too busy at this early hour and there was a nice single table over in the corner. It would be perfect for licking her professional wounds in private. Far better than going back to her hot-desk situated amongst her colleagues– especially when she was kitted out like this. "Nah, I think I'll have it here today. I've got the rest of the day off"

Sue smiled sympathetically and handed over the numbered stick. "I'll bring it over, shall I, Pet?"

Cass lowered her head and blinked back the tears rising in her eyes. It was the first kind thing she'd heard today. "I'll be over there." And she took her number 27 over to the lone table.