I was recently let go from—Delete.
My previous position ended unexpectedly—Delete.
I'm looking for new opportunities—
"That one," Gretchen says, reading over my shoulder. "Use that."
"It's corporatespeak for 'I got fired.'"
"It's survival speak for 'I'm moving forward.'" She squeezes my shoulder. "Just say you're looking for new opportunities."
"You mean lie."
"I mean survive."
I stare at the screen. Luna's Coffee. Barista position. $12/hour plus tips.
From lead designer at a billion-dollar company to serving coffee for minimum wage.
My finger hovers over the submit button.
"There's no shame in any honest work," Gretchen says quietly.
"Tell that to my ego."
But I hit submit anyway. Because pride is a luxury I can't afford, and my bank account doesn't care about my feelings.
The response comes within an hour.
Thank you for your interest. Can you come in for an interview tomorrow at 10 AM?
Tomorrow. They want to see me tomorrow.
I'm going to be a barista.
***
Ross, the manager of Luna's Coffee, has kind eyes and the weary look of someone who's seen too many overqualified applicants in my exact position.
"You designed for Williams Ventures." He glances at my resume. "That's impressive. So why do you want to work here?"
Because I'm pregnant and desperate. Because my savings will last maybe three months. Because I need health insurance and the man I loved destroyed me.
"I'm looking for a change. Something more hands-on."
He studies me like he can see through every word. "You're overqualified for this position."
"I need a job. You need an employee. Does the rest matter?"
Something shifts in his expression. "Fair enough. When can you start?"
"Tomorrow."
He nods. "You got kids? Boyfriend? Anything that'll make scheduling difficult?"
Something sharp lodges behind my sternum. "No."
Not technically a lie.
