When I got out of bed, I think even Shiloh recognized that a walk just wasn’t a great idea, not with my current mental state. I more or less zombie shuffled to the bathroom, barely bringing my feet off the ground, and had to literally splash cold water in my face to try and be alert for my shift.
I guess this was just the inevitable outcome of being overly determined to be independent and strong. Someone who flexed their muscles for as long as possible would eventually cramp and injure themselves or just stop, resulting in a need to recover. I should have recognized it was okay to be weak sometimes. I just had to figure out the appropriate times.
For now, though, I had to get myself through the workday.
Surprisingly, good things started to happen.
First, Dr. Clovis pulled me aside before my shift started and said that they had found someone to bring on as a second vet tech. He said that because of this, I could become a senior vet tech and get a pay bump of two dollars an hour more. While such a pay bump barely moved the needle in my socioeconomic status—if I did the math right, it was about an extra four grand a year, a nice bonus but by no means life-altering—it was just barely enough to help me get my bearings straight and some of my debt paid off. Unfortunately, I still needed a second job, but at least it felt like the universe was giving me something resembling good news.
In the afternoon, on my lunch break, I headed to Bottle Revolution for an interview for the cashier position. I felt hopeful that this would give me the break I needed. It wasn’t a bartending position, so it wouldn’t be hectic, but it wasn’t as passive as being in a grocery store, either, so it hopefully wouldn’t bore me. The manager, a man named Isaac with gray hair in a ponytail, a long white beard, and a light blue polo shirt, shook my hand and took me to an outside table behind the store.
“So, Miss Wright,” he said.
That was a bit odd to hear. I didn’t like being called by my last name. Call it a quirk or whatever, but I much preferred hearing Rose.
“So it looks like you went to USC for undergraduate school. Briefly attended med school. Worked in a lab in LA. Moved to Utah. You’ve had quite the journey, huh?”
I smiled, but that was partially a mask for the embarrassment I felt. That was probably the nicest way he could say that I was overqualified. And of course, I was. Any job that I was qualified for would not allow me to work part-time. Nor, for that matter, would it allow me to remain in Springsville.
Maybe that’s what this was all building toward. Maybe the new vet tech to come was not someone I would train, but someone who would replace me. Maybe I’d get that job in Los Angeles that actually paid what my intellect could provide.
Or maybe I was just looking for anything to be a positive, uplifting note after the disaster that was last night.Just keep moving up. Keep moving up. Eventually, you’ll work someplace amazing, and you’ll date someone that’ll make LeCharles feel like nothing.
Except you know in your gut that that’s probably just not true.
And even if it is, what is your end goal?
I tried my hardest to stay focused in the interview, but that question I asked myself nagged at me throughout the entire interview.
“So, do you have any experience working behind a register?”
Is this what you want to end up as?
“Yeah, in high school, I worked at a grocery store the summer before my senior year. I know technology has changed since then, but it shouldn’t be too hard.”
Maybe your end goal should be in tech.
“I see. And do you have experience in the alcohol industry?”
What industry do you want to end up in? Not this, that’s for sure.
“I don’t, but I’m a quick learner.”
Which is why, a decade after graduating college, you’re here, right?
“Well, I’ll tell you what, Miss Wright.”
Ugh, please stop.
“You have a great attitude, I know you’ll be a hard worker, and so if you want the position, we’re more than happy to have you on for weekday evening hours. That’s the hardest time to fill.”
“I’ll take it,” I said without even thinking about it.
I didn’t care if it was a difficult time slot to fill. I didn’t care if Shiloh would suffer while I was there. I just needed something, anything to pull me through. And this was my “something, anything.”
“Oh, but I haven’t even gotten to the details yet,” Isaac said with a laugh.
“I trust you. You seem like a nice guy.”
