Orientation (Book one in the Thelma Berns: My Internship in Hell series)

Monday Morning

I glanced around the parking lot to make sure nobody was watching before flipping down the sun visor to reveal the cracked mirror. I leaned in, baring my teeth to check for breakfast remnants and then tipping my head back to make sure no boogers were hanging around in there. I pulled back slightly and glanced over my makeup. It was in place about as competently as I could get it.

Taking a deep breath, I forced a broad fake smile.

"Hi, I'm Thelma, your new intern," I said out loud to my unoccupied car. My bangs, which were growing out and did not yet reach far enough to tuck behind my ear, broke free of their hair-sprayed moorings and twitched into my eyes.

This was it: my first stepping stone to greatness.

I replaced the sun visor and gathered my purse, opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. It was the visitor lot and nobody else was around. That was great because I didn't want anyone to see the pile of junk that barely passed for my car. I slammed the door shut hard – hard because it wouldn't latch otherwise. The familiar tinkle of rust particles falling to the ground assured me that I'd been successful.

Straightening the skirt I'd borrowed from my best friend Gillian, I marched towards the door. Just as I reached out to open it the thought that maybe I'd forgotten to brush my teeth flitted across my brain. I pretended to cough into my hand while taking a whiff. It didn't seem like I might smell dead. Good.

I turned back to open the door but the tinted door swung open unexpectedly. I took a metal clunk right in the forehead.

"Ouch!" I said. My hand reflexively flew to my forehead. So much for keeping my stupid bangs out of my eyes. Between the door and my hand, I'd surely broken the bonds of even the toughest hairspray.

"Pardon me," someone said to my right as I stumbled inside the building. "Are you all right, miss?"

Not feeling a lump or blood, I removed my hand. The door was being held by a man – rather, a guy who couldn't have been much older than me – in a security guard uniform. A red patch over his security guard emblem marked him "Trainee." He reminded me a little of a young Don Knotts. I wondered if he had a gun, and if he did, if he was allowed to have bullets.

I shook off the blow. "Um, yeah. I'm okay. Thanks for getting the door."

"No problem. I saw you in the visitor lot. Who are you here to see?" He approached a laptop perched on a podium deeper inside the lobby.

I bit my lip and followed him. Hopefully he hadn't noticed the crap-mobile.

"My name's Thelma. I'm the new intern?"

His hands hovered over the keyboard. "What department?"

Department. Right. I dug in to my purse and came up with a business card. "A Tonya Hearting hired me. I think I'm supposed to report to her."

"One moment while I give her a call."

He turned his back to me and tried to speak discretely to Tonya on a phone extension docked on the side of the podium, but I heard every word.

"Ms. Hearting? This is security at the front desk. You have an intern here? A Ms., ur, Thelma?" He shifted from one foot to the other while she responded. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at me. I tried to pretend intense interest in my cuticles. "Should I tell her to come back tomorrow, then?" Another pause. "All right then. She'll be in the lobby."

He hung up the phone and pointed towards a low-slung black leather couch in the corner. A large potted tree loomed over it from behind. "You can have a seat. Ms. Hearting will be down to collect you momentarily."