“Oh, really?” She went from sobbing to furious. Something hit the receiver. “You’re replacing me!” the woman shrieked in the background. I was conflicted. It was probably a solid opportunity. “I can’t believe you’re doing this!”
“You want to leave right now?” a man asked.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. After everything I did for you? You said we’d be a family.”
“Things just aren’t going to work out, I’m sorry,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m going to call your wife, and there’s not one thing you can do about it.”
The receptionist picked up the phone. “He’s got a tiny dick and a huge ego. You can have him.” She hung up.
There was a position
at the library, but they only offered minimum wage, and their hours were terrible. It was a nice dream, but it wasn’t worth it. I moved on, past more sales jobs. There were jobs for door-to-door knife salesmen, vacuum pyramid schemes, and tons of cosmetics jobs.
A legal firm, Morris and Hoffstead, was hiring a receptionist. The workload would be high. It was a specialty position. I’d have to learn their computer systems, and how to work with their case files, but I knew I could handle it.
Their address was on the ad, so I pulled up the street view. The firm was in a high-rise downtown. It was a real job and a solid opportunity.
When I called, a recording came on the line. “Thank you for calling Morris and Hoffstead. Please listen carefully as our menu options have changed.” The voice was mechanical, which meant they had the money to pay for a decent phone system. “If you know your party’s extension, you can dial it at any time.” They had multiple lawyers, another good sign. “If you’re a client calling about custody proceedings, please dial one. If you’re a member of the courts, please dial two. If you’re calling about probate, or all other inquiries, please remain on the line, and somebody will be with you shortly.”
I crossed my fingers when the hold music came on the line. This could be it. There was no guarantee, but I had a feeling, a good one. So long as I was professional and presented myself well, I knew the place would take me.
“Thank you for calling Morris and Hoffstead. This is Brenda. How may I direct your call?” The woman sounded middle-aged, professional, and a little stern. It was obvious that she took herself seriously.
“Hi, Brenda. My name is Mercedes, and I’m calling about the ad I saw online about a receptionist position.”
“Okay,” she said simply, leaving things open. She was testing me.
“How should we proceed?” I asked.
“You’ll need a bachelor’s degree or higher and two years of relevant experience.”
“Will an internship be enough? I was a receptionist at an accounting firm.”
“You’d have to check with HR, but we’re more than willing to take your resume and go from there.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there this afternoon.”
“Great,” she said. “We’ll see you then.”
I hung up and moved on. I had a good feeling about the firm, but I wasn’t about to run out the door with only one number in hand. I moved on and scrolled through more listings.
The bigger companies didn’t seem to be posting in the classified ads. Most of them required you to go to the website and use their outdated search engine to see if there were any positions. The chances of finding something that way were slim, though.
I found an ad for a non-profit. They didn’t say what the place was called or what they were doing, but I took it down, nonetheless, and moved on. Medical was starting to become more of an option. There was a doctor’s office hiring downtown, right next to the legal building, which meant I’d save on gas.
When I called, it was a recorded message that told me the number was no longer in service. I wrote their address down with a question mark next to it. Once I got to the bottom of the list, I was feeling pretty satisfied. There were three solid leads, more than I usually got.
I pulled out my blue pussy bow blouse and slacks and drove downtown. The business district was a collection of high-rises in a three-block radius, with food carts and small cafes stuck in between them. I had to park three blocks away to get to the legal office. By the time I got into the building, I was covered in sweat, and the pits on my blouse soaked it up.
Everything about the place screamed prestige. It was a 50-floor, all-black building with tinted windows, and a globe spinning atop a fountain at the entrance. I took a moment to sit on a bench, smooth my hair, and check my lipstick before I walked in.
I had to be confident. I walked into the building without hesitation and strode up to the front desk, where a young woman was waiting at the ready. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Mercedes, and I’m here to inquire about the receptionist position.”
“It’s the third floor, second door on the left.”