Part 30 (1/2)
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Hi, this is Joe Thompson. May I speak with Jennifer Lancaster, please?”
Joe Thompson?
How do I know that name?
”This is Jen speaking.”
”Jen, hey, how are you?”
”Fine, thanks. How are you?” And who are you?
”Doing well, thanks for asking. Listen, Jen, we haven't spoken in a while, but hung on to your resume because I liked your moxie.” Oh, my G.o.d-this is the guy from THE MOTHER s.h.i.+P! I called him once a month for an entire year. I only stopped phoning him when he told me that he'd call me when he had something. I a.s.sumed that was his polite way of telling me to p.i.s.s off.
”Jen, I have the perfect position for you in our munic.i.p.al bonds publis.h.i.+ng division. I want to get you in here as soon as possible for a round of interviews.” He lowers his voice in a conspiratorial tone. ”I shouldn't be telling you this, but your reputation precedes you and you're my first choice. Provided your interviews go well and your references check out, this job is likely yours.”
The Mother s.h.i.+p is finally CALLING ME HOME!!
”Yes, I'm really happy for you, but I thought you decided to try making a living as a writer,” Fletch says. ”Given the interest you've garnered lately, I'm surprised you'd even consider this. What do you know about munic.i.p.al bonds?”
”Well, nothing, actually, but the job wouldn't be selling bonds-it would be selling a publication about bonds.” Which would be cool...right?
”Let me rephrase the question: What do you know about selling bond publications? Wouldn't you have to deal with all the financial people you used to hate?”
”No, no, I hated the stupid PR girls. The financial people were OK.”
”Really? Is that why you're always going out for drinks with Ben? And exchanging pithy e-mails with the Joshes? And having your nails done with Lawrence?”
My skin crawls just a bit. ”I kind of forgot about them.”
”I'm all for you bringing home a paycheck, but if you have a job you hate, you won't be happy. You'll try to compensate by overindulging, and that's ultimately how we got in trouble in the first place.”
I roll my eyes. ”Do you think I've learned nothing in the past couple of years?”
”I'm just saying you should weigh your options.”
”I will, I will. Oh, can you give me a lift that day?” Fletch is already doing so well at his new job that we were able to buy a car. Granted, it's a preowned Ford Taurus and our loan rate is one percentage point shy of usury, but it beats the h.e.l.l out of the Ashland Avenue bus.
”What time?” Fletch pulls up his schedule on his PDA.
”Does twelve thirty work?”
”Can do.”
”Cool. I'm going to go do some research on the munic.i.p.al bond market now. Maybe it's more interesting than it sounds.” I give Fletch a kiss and go to the den.
There is NOTHING interesting about the munic.i.p.al bond market.
I'm clad in one of my old power suits and I look fantastic.195 My shoes have been spit s.h.i.+ned, courtesy of Fletch, and I'm still a lovely light brown from my summer bout with tanorexia.
”I'm going to grab the mail. I'll meet you outside by the car,” Fletch calls up the stairs.
”OK, see you in a minute.” I slick a coat of Bloom's Dolci gloss196 across my lips and I'm ready to go.
I lock up and try to ignore the sad doggie faces watching me from the window. I can't even look at them. If I feel this guilty leaving them for a couple of hours, what's it going to be like when I have to go to work every day and they're all alone?
When I get to the car, I notice a package on my seat.
”What's this?” I ask.
”It came for you in the mail.”
”Really?” I tear it open and a variety of presents spill into my lap. I examine all sorts of treats, such as pretty nail polishes, a mixed CD, and bags of my favorite candy. ”This is lovely!” I dig through the box searching for a note.
Jen, I wanted to send you a token of my appreciation. I know it seems weird to send you presents, especially seeing how we've never met, but your advice has been invaluable to me. It's because of your input that I didn't dump my boyfriend...or should I say my FIANCEE!
Although I wish you the best of luck with your interview, the selfish part of me hopes you'll decide to keep writing instead. Whatever you choose, thanks for inspiring me on a daily basis!
Kelly in Canada
Fletch glances at my lap as he navigates the car out of the alley. ”Who's it from?”
Lost in thought, I finally reply, ”A fan.”
The interviews go tremendously well, and as a company, the Mother s.h.i.+p is everything I ever dreamed it would be. They make me a generous offer and I should be turning cartwheels. And yet, I'm just not sure. They gave me until Monday to make a decision, which is good because I have no idea what to do right now.
On the one hand, this job is almost everything I've ever wanted in an employment situation. The benefits are great, there's a tremendous opportunity for growth, and the money is spectacular. On the other, what if I actually have the chance to start a career as a writer? The literary agency wants to me to sign with them. Although being under contract is no guarantee of success, it's definitely a leg up. My mother asked why I couldn't take the job and write, but that's not how I operate. I can only do one thing at a time, and with what I need to learn about the bond market, I can't see doing both.
Fletch has been no guidepost whatsoever. He keeps telling me to do what I think is best, and he'll support whatever decision I make. What kind of bulls.h.i.+t is that?
I'm all stressed out and the fact that I just started Atkins isn't helping. I bet I could make sense of everything if I could just think about it over a plate of jelly donuts. While I'm busy crafting a decision matrix on a spreadsheet, my phone rings. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”Jennifer, it's your brother! What's up, Peeg?”
”Todd, this is exactly why I almost never answer the phone when you call.”
”Hey, I need you to come down here this weekend.”