Chapter 11
Mariah
Leaving the office that night with the uniform (if you can call it that) and the required paperwork under my arm, I’m somehow less thrilled than I expected to be. This is a job, I remind myself, A real job. With a real estate agency.
But then I look at the intake paperwork again, and remember why I’m less than perfectly thrilled: the job barely pays enough per week for me to make my extended-stay motel rent, let alone to live comfortably long enough for me to save up some real money until I make my first sale.
“It’s a start,” I murmur. “It’s a start.”
Plus, it’s set hours, so I could always find other part time work to make up the difference. Well, less ‘could’ find and more ‘must’ find, really. But you know what? I’ve made it this far; I’m not going to get weak now.
“Two jobs it is,” I declare to myself and the derelict bus stop bench that’s next to me on the sidewalk.
Continuing to walk down the street, back towards my motel, I try to remember what I know about Gruber Realty from the time I spent in my dad’s office. There’s not much left in my memory, other than that the President’s name is something ‘Drive.’
Well, that’s a good sign. Nobody named Drive is going to be lazy or unmotivated, and that’s the kind of work environment I crave: one where I can work hard all day, learn, be my best, and earn my way up the ladder. One where I can prove to Charles and my father that I can do it - even if I have to wear a miniskirt to get started.
Part of me wishes I could call my dad right now and brag to him that I’m on my way, but I know perfectly well that he’d want details… and every aspect of this job would either enrage him or make him laugh. Being employed by his biggest competitor in the city would make him feel furious and betrayed, and the fact that I’m just the office coffee-girl wouldn’t do much either.
In his mind, that would just prove the point that what I’m doing is wrong, and that Gruber is no place for me to do it, anyway. I don’t need that negativity getting in my way. Just imagining it is bad enough; actually hearing it would be worse.
So, radio silence with the family it is. Now to find other work so I won’t get evicted.
With that settled, I keep walking - and almost immediately stop, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding me.”
Across the street, there’s a dilapidated little diner that looks as though it’s been wedged in its alleyway for the last 50 years, and hasn’t been cleaned in at least 30. And in the dirty glass door? There’s a sign: HELP WANTED.
Seizing a gap in traffic, I dart across the road and into the diner. It’s dimly lit, quiet except for the music playing through speakers and the clink and clatter of a few patrons finishing coffee or a meal.
“Hey there, doll. Just grab a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you, m’kay?” The guy behind the counter is willow-thin, African-American, and has a quirky smile that lights up his eyes when he looks at me. He can’t be more than thirty.
“Well, actually, I’m not here to eat,” I manage before he turns away.
“Oh, you’re not here lookin’ for Tia, are you? ‘Cuz she moved about three blocks away after the last time the cops poked their heads in here.”
“Um, no. I don’t know Tia. I’m actually here about the, ah, ‘help wanted’ sign? In the window?”
Why am I feeling more nervous here than I was at the office? Maybe because this is the last piece of the puzzle for now, and if I don’t get it, I’m really jammed up?
“Well then, that’s a whole different conversation, isn’t it?” The guy flashes that crooked grin again and leans on the counter. “Pull up a stool, huh?”
I sit down across the counter from him, not quite sure what to expect.
“I’m Sterling. And you are?” He looks at me expectantly.
“Mariah,” I answer. “I have a copy of my resume here if you’d like to see it.”
“Girl. This is a diner. And a shitty little one, at that. We don’t really know the meaning of the word ‘resume’ here.”
I nod along, getting the sense that this place is quite different from the one I just left up the street.
“So, why you want to work here?” Sterling asks, leaning on the counter between us.
I scramble internally for an answer. This whole thing was a random happenstance. I didn’t prepare for this - I certainly wasn’t expecting to be sitting in my second interview of the day at 8 p.m., let alone sitting for it at a diner counter. Oh well.
“Because I’m good with people. I think working in a place like this would be great for me, a fantastic experience - ”
“Lemme just stop you right there.” Sterling raises a hand that’s adorned with what looks to be half a dozen different silver rings. “You may be a pretty girl, but you’re a terrible liar. So, one more time, why you want to work here?”
He’s caught me full out, and I have no idea what to do. That’s never happened to me before. Preparation has always been my motto, and the one time I needed to follow it the most, I pull a stunt like this? Idiot.
With nothing else left in the holster, I’m reduced to doing the one thing I really don’t want to do: telling him the truth. “Because I need the money,” I blurt out, and that starts the avalanche.
It all pours out: how my dad wants to marry me off to some loser, how I challenged him, left home, how I just came from getting a part time job, but how in order to keep it I’d need another one that I could use to make enough money to buy groceries and get laundry quarters -
“- and then I was walking by and I saw the sign in the window and I just went for it. And now I’m here,” I finish, somehow breathing hard.
“Huh.” Sterling picks himself up off his elbows. “Okay. You’re hired. See you on Thursday night at six.”
“Wait, what? Don’t you need to check with a manager or something before you hire me?”
Why would you ask that, you idiot? I immediately scold myself. Just close your mouth and be thankful you didn’t get laughed out of here!
Sterling chuckles, looking over his shoulder at me as he grabs two plates from the kitchen window. “Honey. I am the manager. And the owner, and most of the staff. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that when you come in for your first day, kay?”
I just nod, and let myself out. Back on the street, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Two jobs in one day. I pulled it off. I try not to let it overwhelm me that getting two jobs in one day now probably means doing two jobs every day.
It’s not like I’m a stranger to working hard, but this is the first time it’s really felt important…it’s not like when I was interning at Dad’s company that I’d get fired if I made a mistake. My dad owned the company after all. At worst, he’d usually say, “Do it again, okay? Right this time.”
I have a feeling that the staff at Gruber won’t be so lenient. Not to mention the fact that I’ve never served a meal to anyone in my life, and have no idea what working in a diner actually entails.
Plus, there’s the odd bird that is Sterling. I can appreciate his flamboyance and quick smile for sure, but I’m also not sure what to make of him as a boss. He doesn’t look that much older than me… then again, he said he was the owner.
Maybe I can learn some things from him that’ll help me at the real estate office? And the sooner I learn things that’ll help me there, the sooner I’ll be able to climb the ladder and get a better paying position, so I won’t have to worry about the diner job at all anymore, anyway.
My thoughts take me all the way back to the motel. It’s not until I’m on the way up the steps to my room that the adrenaline high I’ve been riding for the last several hours subsides, and I’m left feeling suddenly exhausted.
Tossing my business clothes off, I slip into my favorite long t-shirt, flip on the TV, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. Not the healthiest dinner in the world, but it’s about the only staple I have left in the room. Groceries are going to be the priority when my first check comes in.
While eating, I still have to resist the urge to call Dad and tell him that I landed two jobs in one day. When I was a kid, all the way up through high school and college, he was my constant confidant. I told him almost everything, and he told me most of what went on at his office.
Which is one of the reasons why I was so sure he was going to name me his eventual successor at the company… suddenly, all the resentment and righteous anger I’d felt that day rushes back into me.
Fine, Dad. You wanted me to do it myself…well, here I go.