I had told her that I was going to Evergreen State College and that was that. Things didn’t work out quite the way I’d planned, but that didn’t mean my mother was right. She’d always thought I should be a housewife like her.
Some women just weren’t cut out to be housewives, though, and I was one of them. It turned out that I wasn’t great at college academics either, though. I decided to pursue a hairstyling career, even if I had overestimated how easy it would be to get gainful employment as a stylist.
The dream was still alive, however. Now I was living in Seattle and working at a record label called Suspicious Activity. It was only a receptionist job, but it was giving me invaluable exposure to potential clients. My goal had been to meet some musicians who would eventually want me to cut their hair or do their makeup.
My style at work, then, was even more intentional than usual, with my mother’s advice to “dress for the job you want” ringing in my ears. There were a few things I did end up listening to her about, after all.
When I got to the bottom of the exit ramp, I was relieved to see that things looked better and that I had picked the right way to go. The streets were far less claustrophobic, even though they still weren’t free flowing.
Signaling as much as needed, I kept things street legal while also darting around some cars and cutting time off my commute in a way that would have been impossible with any vehicle other than a bike.
My cunning strategy put me on the right street with nearly half an hour to spare. I didn’t like to do so much weaving in and out of car lanes, but I had a reputation to uphold, and uncanny punctuality was part of it. In addition to being noticeable, I endeavored to make myself indispensable at the office, in order to minimize my chances of being fired.
I hadn’t picked up any hairstyling clients but I did enjoy the job, so much so that I now considered it my career, although doing hair or makeup on the side would still be fun if I could manage to swing it.
After I arrived at Suspicious Activity, I parked my bike in the parking lot and hurried inside the building. Then I took up my position at the front desk, ready to face whatever might come my way.
My personality had always already been on the stranger side, but my years working here for the record label made my tolerance for the unexpected even stronger. One time, I didn’t even look twice when the band Scary Train arrived for a meeting in full costume: five-foot spikes, absurd corpse paint and all.
This morning was fairly quiet, though, as Mondays tended to be. Seth Black, my boss and the founder of the label, hadn’t signed a new band since Loki’s Laugh, and there were rumors going around that the company might be in a bit of a slump.
My own theory was that Seth was putting as much money and time and energy as he could into Loki’s Laugh, who actually did have the potential to go really big. Seth was also working with his wife Jonna on her debut solo album.
At first, we all suspected favoritism, due to their relationship and all. Then we heard some bed-tracks and things immediately became clear.
The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. It was astounding that a single person could create it with nothing but an acoustic guitar. The fact it was a 12-string made more of a difference that I might have expected.
It was almost a surprise to hear the elevator ding. I hadn’t been expecting anyone and I usually knew who was coming.
A bright young thing, full of excitement and nerves, approached my desk with a look I knew well, after my years of experience.
She was clearly here for some sort of job interview.
Why hadn’t I been informed?
It wasn’t like the company to leave me in the dark about such things. In fact, I was usually the one planning and coordinating such things when they needed me to.
“I’m here to see Seth Black?” the woman said, with a question mark at the end, like she wasn’t sure.
“And you are?”
“Claudia Grisham.”
I looked down at my desk and was surprised to see an entry penciled in in Seth’s handwriting. He was traditional in some ways, and his appointment book was still in paper, at his insistence.
“Follow me,” I told her, with a sinking feeling in my gut.
Were they replacing me?
Would they really do me like this, after all the years I’d spent loyally working hard for them?
I really liked them and couldn’t imagine it, but I had no idea how things went down when a company decided to get rid of someone. Maybe this was just business as usual?