Sharpies and sticky notes

In which work gets interesting

A month passed since Robert broke up with me, and I had barely given him a second thought. 

Except maybe to reflect on the look on his face when I set his stuff on fire. That was hilarious, I have to admit.

The first thing I had to do when I got to the office that day was to check with Stella for any upcoming projects. Since I didn't have a distraction anymore, I figured I might as well do as many work projects as possible. 

Cassandra and I owned a marketing, PR, and interior design company together. That was our main idea when we'd opened the place, but since opening, we'd expanded to provide a number of services other than the aforementioned three. Although we'd doubted the idea of opening the business together, it ended up being quite beneficial. We each headed our own divisions of the company, and the fact that we lived together meant we could come home and consolidate the day's progress and plan ahead. 

It was an effective and intimate setup, and although working with friends was risky and stupid,  it had been working for three years so far, and our system had yet to fail us.

'Right now might be a bad time to be reminiscing about the past, don't you think? You have less than 10 minutes to get your ass to a meeting that's a 20-minute drive away.' My subconscious sassily reminded me. And unfortunately for me, I couldn't find ANYTHING I needed.

"Cass, I can't find my laptop charger. Have you seen it?" I asked, dashing around like a tornado on steroids. If I missed this meeting, I could kiss that new deal goodbye.

"It's in the plug near the TV. You used it there last night when you were running through your presentation with me ." She said, pointing at the first place I looked when I tried to find the damn charger. "Don't you have a presentation to get to in like, 15 minutes?" she asked as an afterthought when she realized what the time is.

"It's actually nine minutes now. I'm late. Very late," I said, picking the charger and my keys up and running out the door. "Wish me luck," I said as I slammed it shut.

"Geniuses don't need luck!" I heard her shout as I made my way to the elevator.

Later that day, I was finalizing the basic concepts and layouts for the website of an upcoming new cooking competition when I was interrupted by someone slamming my laptop shut. I looked up, prepared to bite that person's head off, but I was cut off when I realized that it was Ryan. 

I had no idea how he found out where I worked but I had absolutely nothing to say to that asshole so I just stood up and went around him to get myself a cup of hot water for a cup of coffee I desperately needed.

Mr-I'm-A-Hot-Asshole-Who-Is-Too-Stupid-To-Realise-When-Someone-Is-Keeping-Away-From-Them didn't get the hint and followed me to the kitchen. So I decided to deal with him the way I deal with all my other problems, I ignored him as much as I could, which was really difficult considering that he kept staring at me and poking me.

A few seconds later I'd had enough so I decided to cut the problem from the roots.

"Dude, this isn't Facebook, you can't walk around poking people. Why are you stalking me by the way?" I asked, turning around to face him, a cup of hot water still in my hand.

"I'm not stalking you; I'm here to recruit you."

I looked at him skeptically. 

Recruit me? What am I? Some endangered animal in the rainforest?