I Hate, I Bake, and I Don’t Date! by Alina Jacobs

8

Tess

We were a sad congregation of lost souls early the next morning in the temp agency office. The temp manager scowled at us. An older woman with huge ‘80s hair and caked-on makeup, she was not impressed with the showing.

“We have several requests for assistants, many of them for good-looking girls,” she said as she walked down the line of would-be hopeful assistants. She tapped her pencil against her clipboard. “Not many of you fit the bill.”

She stopped in front of me.

“Though I did have a guy ask for a girl with a big rack. I guess you’ll have to do,” she said begrudgingly and handed me a slip of paper with an address. “Be there by eight. Just so you know, it might be a pervert, but if you leave before the day is done, you don’t get paid, capisce?”

Ugh.

I stomped outside. It had stopped raining sometime during the night, but the street was still filled with soggy garbage and a minefield of puddles.

I huffed my way across town. Since I didn’t have to start until eight, I wasn’t going to waste the money on the subway. All that bittersweet chocolate for the Boston cream pie hadn’t been cheap, and this temp job wasn’t paying all that much.

The office building looked pretty swanky when I finally arrived. I stood across the street, trying to catch my breath as the city woke up and the workday started.

My phone rang.

“The job has been canceled,” the temp manager told me when I answered.

“What?” I screeched. “I just walked all the way over here!”

“Tough titties,” the woman said. It sounded like she was filing her nails. “The guy’s wife got a hold of his requests. She was ticked that he wanted an assistant with a bigger rack than hers. So we’re sending another girl over.”

“What am I going to do? I missed the other assignments.”

Paper shuffled in the background.

“Like I said, tough titties.”

“Fuck!” I yelled.

A homeless man gave me an apprehensive look and crossed the street.

The anxiety churned in my stomach. Rent was due, and I had no job. I was also on the other side of the city from my apartment and my cake.

You need breakfast. You didn’t eat this morning, and now you’re spiraling out.

There was a twenty-four-hour diner on the corner. Early bird office workers were buying coffee and toast when I walked in.

“What’ll ya have?” the cashier asked me.

“A cheeseburger with fries, no pickles, and a chocolate shake.”

The cashier didn’t bat an eye at my odd breakfast request.

“It’ll be out in five.”

My phone rang right as I had sploshed ketchup on my burger.

“We just had another request come in,” the temp manager said, sounding annoyed and put upon that she actually had to, you know, do her job and manage temp workers. “You know how to do InDesign and all those creative programs?”

“Yes!” I said excitedly. Maybe this was a super-awesome marketing gig! It could be my ticket to a cool job with a big paycheck. I could move into an apartment that didn’t come with its own mushroom farm. “I can totally do all of that!”

The manager coughed, blew her nose, then asked, “How do you feel about children?”

“I love children,” I lied.

“Fine,” she said and gave me the address. “You need to be there in thirty minutes.”

I begged for a paper sack from one of the line cooks, shoved my burger and fries inside, then ran out.

The address was across town.

I shouldn’t have bought that burger. Now I definitely don’t have money for the subway.

I checked the time and took off at a fast walk; I couldn’t afford to be late. Literally. But the lure of a big paycheck and potentially my big break spurred me on, unfortunately not fast enough.

“I’m going to be late. I should have just put an Uber ride on my credit card,” I rasped as I ineffectively jogged the last block to the address.

I dragged myself into the lobby and doubled over, panting.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, sounding slightly disgusted while I wheezed and sweated in front of her. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“I’m here,” I gasped. “I’m here for an assistant job at suite 8300.”

“No, she is not,” a deep, angry voice said.

I peered up through the sweaty, tangled tendrils of my hair to see Beck looming over me.

“You can consider yourself fired, Tess.”