Nine

An hour later, I woke up. A feeling of dread and panic washed over me as I realized that there was no humanly way possible for me to make it into work on time. The Boggs was going to kill me. I was very rarely late, but when I was, he made my life miserable for the rest of the week. And great I thought, today’s Monday.

I glanced down at my bracelet, its jingle of an hour ago echoing in my brain. It would be so simple to just go back and change that. No. I can’t use up two charms in one morning just to make sure I get to work on time. “All right, then. Time to get going.” I jumped out of bed and hurriedly started to get ready for the day.

As I was getting ready, the bracelet jingled at least two more times – once when I was deciding what to wear, and once when I was deciding how to do my hair. I ultimately decided on a pink blouse and long, black skirt, with my hair up in a French twist. But somewhere out there in the universe, there was a version of me wearing khakis and a blue sweater and another one with her hair up in a pony tail.

I was able to make up some time by brewing my own coffee at home instead of stopping by my favorite coffee shop on the way to work. For some reason, I could never get the water to coffee bean ratio correct on my coffee. It was always either too watery or too strong. This morning it was too strong, which I actually wasn’t going to complain about too much. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see my favorite barista behind the coffee bar. Ned was a college student, and therefore much too young for me, but was still very pleasant for me to look at.

Finally, I rolled into work, only fifteen minutes late, which was not too bad. That didn’t stop Kerrie, the receptionist, from clucking her tongue at me and shaking her head as I walked past her. “Mr. Boggs has been looking for you.” She chided.

“I’m sure he has.” I replied as I rushed past her.

“BETSY!” Great, Mr. Boggs sounded like he was already in a mood this morning. “Get in here, immediately!”

“Yes, Mr. Boggs?

“Where have you been?” A question I knew from experience that he didn’t really want answered, “You’re late! Again. Even after I let you leave early last Friday!” I’d left one hour early to start helping my sister with last minute wedding preparations. “I’ll bet you were out partying all weekend.” Well, he was almost right with that one. “You think you can just come waltzing in here at any time you want? The answer to that is no!” He pounded his desk for emphasis. “You are lucky to be here, missy. I pay you well to do a job, and I gosh darn expect you to be here to do it!”

The funny thing about Mr. Boggs was that he absolutely abhorred vulgarity. He would consistently work himself into an almost apoplectic fit, yet he’d never let a curse word cross his lips.

Judging from the steady glare he was aiming at me, I realized that he expected a response.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Boggs,” I thought of telling him that I’d hit a deer or a small child on the way in, or that my condo had burned down, or that some crazy lady had come with a charm bracelet to completely disrupt my life. But I knew, again by experience, that he really didn’t care why I was late. He just expected contrition, so that is what I gave him. I looked down at my feet, and mumbled “I know that it was horrible of me to be late. I will never do it again. Please forgive me. I’ll do better, I promise.”

I gave the man some variation on this speech at least once a day. I wasn’t even sure if he was really listening, or if he just got a kick out of seeing me practically grovel.

“Very well, then.” He said this time, calming down slightly, “Just do not let it happen again.”

“Is there anything specific you need me to do this morning?” I asked.

“Yes. You need to call Le Bleu to confirm the reservations for Peyton’s dinner tonight with Dr. Sharpe’s practice.”

That was it – no life threatening tasks or anything of any import for me to do. I fought the urge to scream, as I politely replied, “Yes, sir, I’ll get on that right away, sir.” As soon as the restaurant opened. In three hours.

My desk was thankfully out of sight of Mr. Boggs, which provided me with the opportunity to open my mouth and silently scream in frustration.

“Problems, Betsy?” Kerrie asked, walking by me in mid-scream. She was wearing a blue micro-mini skirt and a short red cardigan over a hot pink halter top. This was actually an improvement over her summer outfits, in skin coverage, if not in color.

I quickly composed myself. “No, not at all. Just… yawning.”

“Oh, so you must have had a good weekend.” She said, knowingly. What thoughts were going through her lewd mind, I did not even want to pretend to know.

“I did have a good weekend, thank you. My sister got married and it was a lovely wedding. We were a little concerned about the flowers getting there on time, but it all worked out just perfectly. They’re on their honeymoon in Venice now.” I knew that Kerrie couldn’t care less about my sisters wedding, but I liked to pretend that I worked with normal people who held normal, polite conversations about each others lives.

No such luck. “I bet the groomsmen were hot. Did you get lucky?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, Kerrie. I did not sleep with any of the groomsmen.” I didn’t dare mention my flirtation with the bartender.

“Oh, bummer, then. Whatever. See ya!” she chirped, as she flounced off towards Mr. Boggs’ office. Everyone knew that they were sleeping together. Everyone except Mrs. Boggs, of course. I felt like I was working in the midst of a gigantic cliché. Including the part where, when I resist the boss’s less than subtle ‘suggestions,’ my work environment becomes much more hostile.


Unlike my condominium, my desk was spotless. It held a computer, a phone and a desk calendar, which was mostly empty. I had one drawer filled with pens emblazoned with the names of different medicines we carried, another drawer filled with batteries, and a few lonely files resided in my bottom drawer. Mr. Boggs frowned upon any personalized touches, and had nixed my framed family photograph during my very first week.

What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to get out of this dismal place to do something that I would enjoy. I looked at the bracelet again. Perhaps I could use this to find some way out of here. I knew that the main reason I was staying was that I was afraid I’d be no good at anything else. There must be some way I could utilize the bracelet to find out.

My computer could provide the perfect place to start looking for jobs, even though I knew Mr. Boggs could quite literally kill me if he found me doing it. The bracelet jingled as I turned the computer on to check my e-mail. I thought about what Edie and Sabrina had been chastising me about the night before. How I needed to make a change.

With a sigh, I opened my purse, pulled out my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, and sat back to see what barbs Elizabeth Bennett would throw at Darcy today. I just wasn’t ready to take the leap yet. Let another existence do it.


“Le Bleu, can I help you?” the cool voice asked over the phone line.

“Yes, this is Betsy Santorini with Gallus Pharmaceuticals calling to confirm a reservations for 20 people tonight at eight p.m.?”

“Gallus Pharmaceuticals, let me see. Yes, we have that right here. A Mr. Peyton Abbott? Eight o’clock in the back room.” Just hearing the name of the star representative for the company made me cringe.

“That’s right! Thank you very much.”

“Thank you. We look forward to your business.”

“Oh, wait! Are you open for lunch today?”

“We are.”

“Can I make reservations for two at one thirty?” I decided to treat myself and Sabrina to a good lunch today. She’d accept Le Bleu lunch in lieu of Godiva, I knew.

“That should be no problem. What name shall I put the reservation under?” I wondered if maitre d’s had to go to conferences to learn how to speak in such even tones. I’d once spent twenty minutes trying to unnerve the maitre d’ at an elegant restaurant during college, when my date had stood me up. I had not succeeded.

“Santorini.”

“Very well, that is a reservation for two at one thirty for a Ms. Santorini.”

“That’s it. Thank you.”

“Have a pleasant day.”

Maybe I should become a waitress at Le Bleu. I was really good at taking orders, as my interactions with Mr. Boggs proved. I could not picture myself managing to carry a tray full of plates without dropping it on someone’s head, though. Scratch that option.

I called Sabrina to tell her to meet me for lunch. She said that she was happy to meet me, since she was stuck on an idea for her next project. Le Bleu’s salmon would help ‘center her’ she claimed.

Just as I was reaching for my book, which I’d left propped open on my desk, Peyton Abbott himself came striding into the office. I sighed internally, but greeted him with as much of a smile as I could manage. “Hello, Peyton.”

“Betsy! Darling. Wonderful to see you, as always. When are you going to let me take you out to show you the town? You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced the city with Peyton Abbott, let me tell you.”

Right, I was just dying to spend a night with Peyton the Player. Peyton Abbott, possibly the slimiest man alive. “Sorry, Peyton. I’m all booked up.”

He clutched at his heart in mock dismay. “You hurt me, Betsy girl, right here. Like a knife to the heart.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover. Somehow.”

He laughed and headed for his desk, which was right by Mr. Boggs office. He was almost out of sight, when he turned around, “Oh, yeah. Did you remember to call Le Bleu for me? To confirm my dinner for tonight?”

“Yup. Eight o’clock, no problems.”

“You’re a doll. Sorry you couldn’t come to this one, but you know how Mr. Boggs feels about having too many representatives there.” Yeah, I knew. We had to be pushy without looking pushy. This meant that I was never allowed to attend any of the free meals at fancy restaurants. I remained strictly the ‘behind the scenes’ representative. Scheduling meetings and ordering supplies were my forte.

“Oh, and can you order some more pens? I’m almost out. Take care, babe!” Peyton called over his shoulder as he left. Being around that man made my skin crawl, so I was quite thankful to see him leave. I’m sure there were some people who delighted in his boyish antics and shameless flattering. I, however, was most definitely not one of them. He seemed to get a thrill with ordering me around. Hateful man.

I heard Mr. Boggs greeting Peyton exuberantly, not caring in the slightest that he was three hours late. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of depression and anger. There was no reason I had to put up with this! I was twenty five, with a college education. I did not have to let jerks like Jim Boggs boss me around while slime balls like Peyton Abbott were rewarded for their sliminess.

A feeling of empowerment washed over me as I reached for my bracelet. I was so fired up to get out of that awful place, that I was not willing to waste a single moment.

“I wish to change my fate!” I practically shouted.

With a clang of symbols, Fatima appeared in my lap.

“Oof! What’s the rush, honey?”

“I just need to do this before I lose my nerve. Um, could you get off of me? I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry!” She said, extricating her necklaces from my buttons. “What is it you want to do, dear?”

“I want to go back to this morning, and start looking for jobs, instead of doing what I always do.” I figured, if I started looking for jobs today, I could go to interviews on the sly, and when I had something lined up, I could have the satisfaction of walking out of here one day with my head held high.

“Can’t you just start looking for jobs now? Why use a charm on something you can just choose to do now?” For some reason, she asked me this while standing on my desk.

“Because I know that I will wimp out if I try to start now.” Whenever Peyton was in the office, he lurked around like a spy. I didn’t have proof, but I suspected that Boggs asked him to keep an eye on me and to report back anything that I was doing wrong. This would most definitely qualify as doing wrong.

“Okay, Betsy dear.” She closed her eyes and jumped down from my desk, disappearing before she hit the ground.

“-cannot believe this! What do you have to say for yourself?”

I looked around me, shocked to find myself in Mr. Boggs office, with Peyton standing next to him, smirking at me.

“Wha-? What?” I sputtered.

Mr. Boggs threw his hands up. “You’re not even listening to me!” Turning to Peyton, “She’s not even listening to me! After all that I have done for you, you repay me by using the company computer to look for jobs. I’m not paying you to find other employment, Miss Santorini!”

I suddenly recalled the morning. Instead of re-reading Jane Austen, I had gone online to research available employment. I had even started putting a resume together so that I’d have something to fax to my potential new employers. I’d been so engrossed in what I was doing that I had not heard Peyton enter the room. It had not taken him long to put two and two together, and he had rushed off to tell Mr. Boggs. Leading to the conversation we were currently having.

Automatically, I started looking down at my feet, preparing to go into apology mode. “I’m so sorry Mr. Boggs,” I started. But then I heard Sabrina and Edie’s voices in my head. They believed that I could do better. It was time to show that I had some faith in myself. I was not going to waste this opportunity. My bracelet jingled again, but I ignored it, as I lifted my head, looked Mr. Boggs in the eyes, and firmly said, “but I can’t do this anymore. I am miserable in this job. I am not being utilized to my full potential, and I just sit here, stagnating every day. If I let this go on, my brain will collapse in on itself. I can’t take it any more!

So you caught me looking for jobs on company time. So what! At least I was doing something, not just sitting there helping fulfill your female quota. You are a horrible boss. You are condescending, and lazy and… and fat! And you’re horrible to your wife. How could you cheat on that poor woman with Kerrie? Kerrie can’t even color coordinate her clothes! and I cannot believe I let myself work here for as long as I have.” At some point during this mini tirade, I had stood up out of my chair, and was leaning over Mr. Boggs’ desk. He had a look of shock on his face, but anger was slowly starting to take its place.

Peyton stood looking confused, and then finally chuckled, “Looks like someone forgot to take their ‘female’ pills today, huh, Mr. Boggs.”

I turned towards him, “And you!” I hissed. “You think you are God’s gift to women, but really you are a detestable fake who quite obviously bleaches his teeth. Teeth shouldn’t be that white! You swagger around here like you own the world, but look around! You work at a small scale drug company peddling other people’s wares. You’re main talent is being so slick that people need to take a shower after you leave the room to wash off the residue. And you’re balding!”

This last comment finally managed to take the smirk off his face, as he instinctively reached his hand up to check his hair. He wasn’t actually balding, as far as I knew, but I’d seen the way he fretted over his hair, so it seemed a fitting target.

By this point, the Boggs’ face was crimson, and his eyes were bugging out of his face. “Who do you think you are?!” he bellowed.

Peyton was glaring daggers at me over Mr. Boggs shoulder.

A fit of laughter overtook me as I realized how ridiculous this scene was. Mr. Boggs standing there, red-faced, with his chest puffed out to look more intimidating. Peyton Abbott, a proper toady, backing him up. A fitting cliched ending to my cliché of a job. I had to sit down, I started laughing so hard. That was the one thing that could have made the matter worse at that point. I stopped laughing when Mr. Boggs picked the stapler up off of his desk and threw it at the wall behind my head.

I took that as my cue to exit, so stood up and walked gracefully out of the office. I was slightly disappointed that I didn’t have a good parting shot to leave them with, but I doubt it would have been heard over Mr. Boggs’ screaming, anyway.

I stopped at my desk long enough to pick up my purse, book, and the pad on which I’d been writing job leads before Peyton ratted me out.

Kerrie looked up from the computer, (where she was no doubt shopping on Sluts-R-Us dot com) as I came storming out into the lobby.

“Problem?” she asked innocently. I knew that it was very likely she had had the intercom turned on to Mr. Boggs office during the whole scene that had just transpired.

“Not with me, Kerrie. I’m perfect.” As I said that, I realized that for the first time in ages, I was actually excited about something. Nervous as hell, of course. But excited, too, and that was the important thing for the time being.