Bitter Is The New Black Part 17

"Mom? You know those come off with a little makeup remover and a cotton pad?"

"I'm not taking them off."

"Why not?"

"I spent $180 on that makeup job and I refuse to wash my face until I get my money's worth."

Since neither Courtney nor Brett could make it to the wedding, I've had to wait till we got home to get them together, and now we're in one of the horseshoe-shaped booths at Piece on North Avenue. While I should be wolfing down their trademark white pizza and slyly building my case about why Courtney and Brett would make a perfect couple, I'm making a scene.

"That is such horses.h.i.t! HORSEs.h.i.t!!" I pound the table so hard that our microbrews slosh out of our gla.s.ses. "So that b.i.t.c.h-that breast-pumping, nanny-trouble-having, divorcee LYING b.i.t.c.h told you I turned down the job?"

After almost a year, Corp. Com. has decided to reinstate my position and relaunch my old product line. Since I'd been laid off, I should have been first in line for consideration. All my old AEs a.s.sumed I'd come back, but Kathleen told them I'd rejected their offer.

"Courtney, she never called me."

"She probably couldn't reach you."

"I'm home twenty-three hours a day. And if I'm not around, I have caller ID, voice mail, and call-waiting. Even if she called and didn't leave a message, I'd have a record of it. She didn't call, end of story." For some strange reason, Courtney likes Kathleen and tries to make excuses for her. "Face it, Court. She lied."

"Are you sure you never talked to her? I just can't see that she'd-"

"Um, h.e.l.lo? We're having dinner at a freaking pizza place instead of Morton's. I'm drinking BEER and not martinis or champagne. For G.o.d's sake, I'M CLIPPING COUPONS in an effort to conserve money. Don't believe me? I've got one in my bag right now."

I notice the stricken look on Courtney's face and try to speak in a calmer voice. "I don't mean to take it out on you, and I'm really sorry, but does someone concerned about saving thirty-five cents on a can of Friskies strike you as the kind of person with the luxury of being choosy? The last thing I'd do would be to turn down a well-paying job, even if it meant sucking up to Kathleen." Suddenly I'm struck with an idea. "Court, give me your phone. I'll call her right now and tell her I'm still available. I promise I'll be nice."

Courtney blanches and toys with a stray pizza crust. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? I can prove to her that I'm still as much of a go-getter as I ever was."

Courtney won't look me in the eye. She takes a bite of her pizza and chews it at least a hundred times before swallowing. "She already hired someone."

THAT b.i.t.c.h.

I grit my teeth. "May I ask exactly who was more qualified to do my job than me?"106 "I'm afraid to say." Courtney shrinks in her seat.

"Come on, tell me. I'm not going to get mad at you."

"Don't you believe her," Brett interjects. "She has a long history of killing the messenger." OK, so I may have yelled at him once or twice for giving me bad news when we worked together at Midwest IR. But when his tech team couldn't deliver the solution I sold in the time they'd promised and the lost commission was the equivalent of an upscale SUV, what did he expect?

"Vroom, vroom, what'd you say, Brett, vroom, vroom? I can't hear you over the roar of my new Range Rover, vroom, vroom." I pretend to steer the car I SHOULD have been able to buy had his team not been comprised of ham-fisted Luddites.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Not in this lifetime," Fletch replies.

"Will you just tell me already?" I huff.

"OK, OK. She hired...Taggart." Courtney winces as if she's antic.i.p.ating a blow.

"Taggart? What's a Taggart? Wait a minute, is Taggart her goofy, bucktoothed sister?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't she one of those weirdo, home-schooling, hippie moms? She has something like seven kids, doesn't she?"

"She has four."

"And how is she going to educate a stable full of rug rats, work an incredibly time-consuming job, and churn her own organic b.u.t.ter at the same time?"

"Kathleen got her permission to work from home," Courtney whispers. She's slid halfway under the table at this point.

I whip out my cat-food coupon and wave it at Courtney. "This! This is what I have to resort to because some bulgur-wheat-eating, hairy-legged, ber-breeding RELATIVE got the job that should have been mine?" I bang my mug down on the table so hard it shatters, causing our server to inquire if I wouldn't prefer sitting in the shouting section.

Oh, terrific, now pizza joint waitresses are making fun of me.

Brett interjects, "Jen, I didn't mention it because I a.s.sumed you wouldn't be interested, but your cat-food coupon is a cry for help." Brett flicks a stray shard of gla.s.s off his sweater. "Clearly. Julie has an open position on her team."

"Which one was Julie? I thought you only worked with the Joshes," Fletch says.

"Julie joined Midwest IR a few months after I left. She runs my old division." And probably not nearly as well as I did.

"Lizzie quit to move to San Francisco, so Julie needs another marketing person. The job is still the same as when Lizzie worked for you-mostly writing Web site copy and monitoring advertisers' traffic stats. The base is about $50K plus quarterly bonuses. Do you want me to talk to Julie about you or are you looking for more?"

"A $50K salary is WAY less insulting than I used to believe, especially since it's about $50K more than I make at the moment. Honestly? It sounds like a G.o.dsend."

Brett asks, "Would you feel weird working a coordinator's job in the department you used to run?"

"Probably, but I guarantee you it would be less uncomfortable than the conversations I've had with my student loan officer lately. Brett, you're awesome. Thanks so much." I lean over to hug him.

Fletch pops his head under the table. "Courtney, crisis averted. You can come out now." He turns his attention to Brett. "Looks like you may finally be forgiven, vroom, vroom."

"I so nailed it," I tell Brett. We're sitting in his corner office doing a postmortem on my interview with Julie. If nothing else, my cute outfit should guarantee me the job-I'm wearing a fitted taupe jacket with a swirly skirt and matching camisole with spectator slingbacks. Sure, add a flower-strewn hat, and I'd fit in perfectly at the Kentucky Derby, but since I'm not applying for VP, I figured a less traditional suit would be appropriate. "Seriously, it could not have gone better. After all, I created the product-the portfolio management tool was my baby. I decided on the level of interactivity, the features, even the colors on the interface. How could I not be the perfect person to write marketing copy about it?"

"How'd you explain your willingness to accept a lesser position?" Brett asks.

"I told Julie my life was different now. I'm married, I have dogs, I have a whole new set of responsibilities. I said I don't want to spend sixty hours a week in the office."

"Which, because I know you, is a lie."

"I figured if talked up my work ethic too much, she'd worry I was bucking for her job."

"When will she make a decision?"

"A couple of days. But she's going to say yes, I'm sure of it."

"Cool. By the way, have you, um, spoken with Courtney lately?"

"Of course, Brett. I talk to Court all the time. Was there something specific you'd like to know?" A bright pink flush spreads across Brett's cheeks. "You're blushing! You like her! Oh, that's darling! I knew you guys would connect. You have so much in common like your triathlete compet.i.tion things and predilection for Dave Matthews.107 It just so happens she asked me to give you her number." I root around in my purse until I locate her digits. I place her business card in front of Brett.

"Thanks, Jen. I owe you."

A phone number in exchange for the opportunity to earn fifty large? "Brett, I'm pretty sure we're even."

I'm finishing reading all the day's new job postings when Fletch walks in. "Hey, sweetie, what's up? You're home really early." Maisy and Loki bark and spin, delighted at their dad's unexpected arrival. I am too because I'm dying for a little human interaction. I talk to those d.a.m.n dogs all day long. Someday they're going to start talking back, and I am simply not prepared for that.

Then I notice that Fletch is carrying a huge paper box full of personal effects. Uh-oh.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?"

I take a deep breath. "Bad, please."

"I was laid off."

I gesture toward his box. "I figured. But you know what? It's not your fault. I know how hard you worked, and I'm very proud of the job you did there. Are you OK?" I fight my way through the dogs to give Fletch a big hug. After seeing his employer on C-SPAN every day for the past month, we suspected this might happen.

"Actually, I am. They gave me a decent severance package, and I'll still get my year-end bonus. Plus I'm eligible for unemployment insurance, so we'll be OK for a little while."

"That's the good news?"

"Nope. When Clark told me my position was eliminated, he could barely keep from smiling. Miserable son of a b.i.t.c.h. While I'm packing up my stuff and commiserating with everyone else-Lisa, Bill, and Ernesto are also gone-the regional VP goes into Clark's office and closes the door. Two minutes later we hear shouting and slamming. Apparently Clark got canned, too."

"He didn't know it was coming?"

"Completely blindsided him."

"That's hilarious."

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you the best part. Right before I walked out, I poked my head in his door and said, 'I'll save you a place in line at the unemployment office.' Must have been the last straw because he lunged out of his chair and took a swing at me!"

"No way!"

"I kid you not. Ernesto called the police, and the whole team got to enjoy watching Clark being escorted out in handcuffs. Best day of work ever." A malevolent grin plays across his face.

"You baited him." I'm always secretly delighted when Fletch gets in touch with his inner evil streak.

"You bet I did. That man made me miserable for three years with his explosive rage. He was so much like my dad. As I never had the pleasure of seeing my father arrested, this was the next best thing. I should be upset about losing my job, but I feel great."

The phone rings and I peer at the caller ID. "Fletch, hold that thought-it's Midwest IR. I'm crossing my fingers that it's an offer." I take a deep breath before grabbing the phone. "Good afternoon. Jennifer speaking."

"Hi, Jennifer. It's Julie from Midwest IR. How are you?"

"Terrific, thanks! What's up?" I'm trying to sound cool, but really I'm a basket case. I need this job now more than ever. After an entire YEAR off, I'm dying to get back to work. I'm even thrilled at the prospect of wearing panty hose again. Shoot, I'll take public transportation if I need to. This way Fletch can be on my health insurance so he doesn't have to worry about COBRA. Ooh, and I'll start another 401(k) and begin to feel like a real adult again.108 So what if it's a step down? With my work ethic, I'll be back on top in no time. I predict a promotion in six months or less. After all, the other VPs loved me at Midwest IR. And when- "I'm calling to say we've decided to go in a different direction."

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?" The dogs are still yipping and whining, so I must have heard her wrong.

"We've decided not to extend an offer. But I really enjoyed our interview after hearing so many good things about you."

"I don't understand. I promise I wouldn't be bored if that's your concern. I know I worked on more advanced projects before, but-"

"You just don't have the kind of experience we need in this department."

"Cut the c.r.a.p, Julie. I created the very product your department supports, so don't tell me I'm not experienced. Level with me. When Corp. Com. laid me off, they never gave me a reason, and it's driven me nuts for a whole year. Be honest. Was I overconfident? Arrogant? Whatever was wrong, please tell me so I can fix it before I interview anywhere else."

Julie sighs and lowers her voice. "Jen, you did everything right and I really lobbied for your hire. But Ben won't let me bring you back. He says you're too unprofessional."

Oh, that is rich. "Julie, do you know why I left Midwest IR in the first place? It's not solely because I got a better offer. Ben threw a cup of coffee at me during a board meeting while screaming, 'If you can't give me the f.u.c.king answers I want, then f.u.c.king lie to me!' But as I was not about to let that old b.a.s.t.a.r.d see me cry, I replied, 'Come on, sir, you're the president of this place-get it together.' I should have thrown coffee back at him. Instead, I went home to change clothes and post my resume."

"I heard a rumor about that." Ben's unprofessional behavior is legendary. "I swear I didn't know it was you. Things must really be tough out there if you were willing to come back here."

"You don't know the half of it."

"G.o.d, I'm so sorry. Take care, and if you need a reference? Call me."

Before I even hang up the phone, Fletch is by my side. "No luck?"

"What are we going to do? A minute ago I was elated because I thought that job was mine. Now I'm scared to death because no one in this household has an income. How are we going to pay for this place? How are we going to keep up with our bills? How am I ever going to get my hair colored again?" I begin to pace and wring my hands.

"You know what we should do right now?" Fletch asks.

"Pray? Cry? Move back to Indiana so I can work at Hardee's, as my brother keeps helpfully suggesting?"

"No. We're going to the Four Seasons."

"Are you insane?"

"I say we celebrate the end of the dot-com era by going out with a bang. Our days of posing at their bar are over, so why not celebrate with a couple of $15 martinis?"

"You are insane."

Brief silence.

"And I'll be ready in ten minutes."

Four Seasons esss DELICIOUSSS Jack Frost marteeenneees pepperminty chocolaty.... 100 percent YUMMM! Pooor buthaaaaappppeee!! Fletchhhss is SCHMARTEST MOST HANDDSUM MAN ALIVE even wiscch his pancake b.u.t.t. Mmmm...pancakes! Sommebuddy buuuy me pancakes? Pleeeeease?

Drunkety. Most, most exccccelent drunkety.109 "Jen, it's a simple favor," Fletch says.

"But I don't want to," I reply.

"Come on, it'll be easy. And you'll get to drive the Cadillac."

"I can drive the Caddy anytime I want."

"But you never have anywhere to go."

"So? I can still use it to take the dogs to the park."

"Last time you drove them it took a week to scrub all the mud off the seats. Admit it. There's no good reason not to do this for Carol."