I was feeling uncommonly good for someone wheeling a dented, gasping Civic into an employee parking lot on a Monday morning. I had a new space, perfectly located near the front door. Also, here in Year 3 of the Pandemic Depression, with 27% unemployment, I had a job, and the job had a salary. That was pretty good for someone my age. And best of all, I was the new Employee of the Month, ta-da!
I had worked hard and done well and all that stuff, but I had also come up with a new marketing ploy for our start-up: placing our products as props in other companies' ads. That's been done before, of course, but our new products were so extremely cool and trendy that the other the advertisers should be willing to pay us! I was going to make us zillions! Even the new reception bimbo gave me a "Nice job, Dave!" as I breezed through the lobby.
My first appointment was a big meeting with Marketing to set up a project team. I wasn't going to be in charge, but that was fine. Marketing wasn't my thing. I was happy that my stock was rising, and I didn't want to be difficult.
Then I had a meeting with Human Resources. I was hoping for a raise or a bonus, but all I got was a pat on the back and a meaningless job title. Our new HR guy just said to be patient. He probably meant, in English, to just sit down and shut up. Or maybe he meant that if we did make money, some of it would eventually come my way. I acted disappointed, which was easy, but being in Accounting, I knew I would be able to tell if my idea became profitable. I decided to wait and see. I really didn't like the new HR guy anyway. He was an authoritarian personality we had somehow acquired from a big multi-national, and he wasn't a compromiser.
My buddies in Accounting were all complimentary, but none of them knew whether the Employee of the Month award usually came with a bonus. It didn't get bestowed on accountants much, apparently.
Mildly bummed, I felt justified leaving work on time for a change. I probably looked thoughtful as I trudged through the lobby. The reception bimbo was just hanging up a call and she caught up with me as I walked out.
"For the Employee of the Month, you don't seem exactly thrilled, Dave." She peered at me like she was interested.
"I'm OK, Katie. Actually, I'm on kind of a lucky streak. I got a promotion. Too bad it didn't bring anything that pays rent."
"Don't take it too hard. They're really tight on cash. At least that's what I hear in the lobby. They're just breaking even." She didn't meet my eyes. She always seemed nice, but kind of timid for a receptionist.
We had already arrived at my new parking spot. I stopped. She stopped too, but the conversation lagged and it felt like we were done, so I opened my car. Before I could get in, though, she blurted out a question about how I won the Award, and that led to a long discussion about employment and compensation in the age of the Corona Virus, when disease-proof computers were competing for the few remaining jobs.
After a while I finally remembered I should ask about her own situation. Receptionists were an endangered species these days. Cynically, though, this one didn't have much to worry about. She had a willowy frame with amazing softball boobs, blue eyes and wavy, elbow-length dark red hair. Lean legs. Freckles. She was beyond cute. Computers couldn't do that.
"Actually, they pay me pretty well, but it's just because I look good. I'm the lobby decoration, in case you hadn't noticed," she confirmed with an ironic curtsey. "HR made it clear I have to dress right and do the adoring bimbo thing. You can't imagine how awful it is when you have to suck up to some sleazebag on a power trip, dressed like this." She motioned at her outfit with evident chagrin.
That sounded pretty bitter, for someone with an actual job. But now that she mentioned it, her dress seemed like a constant embarrassment on a body like hers. It was a cream-colored number of silky fabric that clung tight to all the projections on her hourglass figure. It outlined her nipples way too plainly, and I was pretty sure it should have shown the individual stiches on her underwear. It didn't, which got me thinking. Regardless, it seemed way too revealing for her rather diffident personality.
Anyway, her job was obviously a sore spot. "I'm sure the pandemic will be over soon," I said, just to be comforting. "Maybe the next mutation will be less lethal. Then they'll want to replace the people who didn't make it, and more jobs will open up."
"I guess so," she said glumly.
Since she was, unexpectedly, still hanging around, it occurred to me that despite her outrageously good looks, I might be able to extend my lucky streak. "I think we both deserve a drink. Interested?"
"Well . . . okay. I guess have time. Maybe some of your luck will rub off. I could use a little."
We went to a bar & grill around the corner that looked nice and empty, donned our gloves and drinking masks, and ordered beers. We whipped out our straws.
She asked me about my day, and I told her that I might be having the best one of my life. My hot streak had included that new parking space and getting on a team for my marketing project, and now I was having drinks with a super-pretty co-worker. She blushed and congratulated me, but then quickly said to remember that no streak lasts forever. I assumed she meant my hot streak wasn't going to last all night. I hardly expected that anyway, but it was interesting that she thought to warn me. She must be accustomed to guys trying to stay over.
I asked more about her. It became evident that the bimbo look was just window dressing. Katie was educated and obviously smart. She was well read, had interesting hobbies, and was ambitious. In normal times she would be off to a great start. I asked how she came to be our receptionist.
She looked uncomfortable. "It's kind of embarrassing . . . like the job, actually." She sounded bitter again. "I sent dozens and dozens of applications. I tried all the websites, all my friends, all their friends. I didn't get a nibble. Actually I did get one offer - to be a sugar baby. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but since it was the only offer I got, I'd say it made me realistically cynical. So when I was desperate enough, I took the hint and put the sexiest picture I dared on the employment sites. That got me an offer from our new HR guy.
"The picture was only meant to separate my résumé from the pack, but instead it got me a job just sitting in public looking as hot as possible all day. I have college debt and no savings, and I was a week away from being bankrupt and homeless, losing my car and everything else. I was desperate. I told them I'd do it. HR was tough, though. I have to dress like this, for instance. Honestly, it's like being naked, I feel so exposed out there! I cringe if I have to get up to serve coffee. You wouldn't believe the ogling! But at least I'm keeping up with my bills. You're lucky, you know, not to have to deal with this stuff?"
