Missed Connections

Missed Connections: Chapters 3 & 4

CHAPTER 3

Once again, I've made a tactical error by dressing in a black skirt, heels, and black cami/sweater combi­nation. While perfect for the law firm and less formal than my interview clothes, the outfit makes me stick out like a sore thumb, blackened beneath the hammer of poor judgment.

Fern resembles a dull flower in an oatmeal-colored kaftan and green leggings. Her gaze starts at my tight chignon and wanders down to my four-inch heels. "I'm for expression in all its forms, Sarah, including through fashion choices, but we're really trying to go with a relaxed vibe here. We want the clients to feel welcomed, at home. People will come in for massages dressed in sweats and no makeup, seeking respite from the trap­pings of vanity."

"So you want me to dress in something less formal?"

"It wouldn't hurt to, I don't know, casual it up a bit. Just to blend with the rest of us. We're all about har­mony. What you're in is very discordant."

"I'll be sure to dress more casually tomorrow."

She waves her hand. "Wear whatever you want."

Just not business attire. What if this is what I want to wear? "So, are jeans okay?"

"Just read the energy and flow with it."

Riiight.

She straightens a pile of papers on the desk. "Anyway, we figured we'd show you the booking and billing system while Ziggy's in with a client."

I glance around to be sure we're the only two in the reception area. No one else is in sight, so I have no idea why she keeps saying "we." "Sounds good."

"You're used to computers, right?"

"Yes."

"So, just play around with it. I've got to run to a meeting."

"Wait, you're leaving?" I've been here for exactly twenty-three minutes, and she's leaving me on my own?

"I'll be back at eleven thirty, and Ziggy will be done with his client at eleven. Plenty of time for you to get to know the booking system." She smiles and grabs my shoulders. "You're smart. I have every faith in your abil­ity to do this." She disappears out the front door in a cloud of sandalwood and lemon verbena.

My gaze bounces from the Himalayan rock salt lamp on the wooden table to the large amethyst geode by the front door. A small stack of organic living magazines is nestled beside a pile of affirmation flip cards with finger laby­rinths printed on the back. Apparently, they're soothing.

I could use a few cups of soothing right about now. What the hell am I supposed to do if someone phones or comes in or... No. I sit in the chair behind the computer and wiggle the mouse to take it out of sleep mode. Fern left because she thinks I'm capable and intelligent. Maybe it's a test, maybe it's an opportunity—either way, this is my chance to shine. This is nothing compared to the tasks the partners had me do.

The certainty in Fern's voice, the trust, is humbling and helps stave off the panic that I'll do something wrong. I can do this. It's just a piece of software, and I have a secret weapon: the Internet. I Google the name of the program and read the FAQs twice. There's a forum that discusses some common bugs and shortcuts.

By ten forty-five, I'm practicing scheduling fake appointments, shifting them to different days and times, and deleting them like a pro. As long as I stick to the basics and no one wants to get fancy, I'm functional.