I don’t want to come off as cold to my new manager and colleague, so I don’t tell them that that suits me just fine.
“Well, what can I do to be helpful?” I say instead.
Rui helps me get logged in to my new computer, but none of the applications that we use are set up yet.
“I don’t think IT expected you to be working today since it was your orientation day,” he explains. “I’m sure it will be sorted out in the morning.”
“Okay, sure.” My gaze snags on the office across the hall. Everyone is working quietly, their heads down as they type away. Truthfully, Iwould rather be doing their research than the accounting stuff anyway. Or better yet, the actual marketing for a client. That’s what drew me to apply at CreativEdge in the first place. Sure, my degree and experience is all in accounting. I did the responsible thing growing up, went to school for something with stability and good job prospects. But once I was actually working in the field… to say I understand why people make jokes about accounting being the most boring job is an understatement. I live it every day.
The mind-numbing time spent behind a screen.
The lack of social interactions with new and interesting people.
The slog of looking at numbers and financial coding all day.
It’s a good job. An important one if anyone wants their business to succeed, but that doesn’t make it any more interesting.
I open a browser on my computer and try a few basic searches to find the information Mr. Edgerton is looking for. There isn’t anything else I can do at the moment since I have nothing specific to work on and no access to the company’s applications. One site leads to another. An article I find links a database with more information.
The sound of Rui and Erica packing up for the day startles me, and when I glance at the clock, I realize that two hours have flown by while I went headlong down an internet spiral. I put my notes in order and set them aside for tomorrow.
“Sorry we didn’t get a chance to train you today,” Rui says, slipping his arms into his thick wool coat. “Tomorrow, we can go over everything you’ll need to know. If your access isn’t ready, we can just use my computer.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.” I look back at the corner of my desk where my notes lie. An itchy feeling creeps under my skin. Leaving a task incomplete doesn’t settle right with me. But it isn’t even my task. It’s not my job.
But in my interview, they did stress how much this company values teamwork and initiative. Maybe I’ll just take the notes with me… just in case.
No. They don’t need some brand-new accountant to do their research for them. I’m sure they’ve got it well in hand.
“See you tomorrow.” Erica waves as she rushes out the door.
I say good night to Erica and follow Rui out the door a moment later, snagging the notebook off my desk on the way out and stuffing it in my purse.
The walk back to my apartment is icy and cold. I grew up in Colorado, where my family still lives, and somehow, I thought that moving to Boston would involve milder winters. I guess it was true, but that doesn’t mean the cold isn’t bone-deep. The early February chill turns my fingers numb, even shoved deep into my pockets like they are, and my nose is cold and runny.
I slip my key into the lock of my apartment and push the door open to the dry radiator-heated warmth just as my phone starts to ring. I quickly hang my jacket and kick off my shoes before I answer.
“Hey, Ev,” I say, placing the call with my sister on speakerphone.
“Hi, sis. Today was your first day at your new job, right? How’d it go?”
“Good, I guess. Orientation took up most of the day, so I haven’t really got my feet wet yet,” I tell her.
“Did you ask about the vacation policy?” she asks, her words dripping with hope. I can basically see the wide eyes and expectant smile over the phone.
“It’s a ninety-day waiting period before any benefits kick in. No paid time off, no insurance, no retirement savings until the probationary period is over,” I tell her.
“But did you ask for an exception? You can’t miss Gran and Gramps’s anniversary party, Bri. They’ve been married for sixty years.”
“I know, but considering everyone at the office calls the boss Satan, I don’t exactly see an exception in my future.” I walk to my bedroom and put the phone on the bed. The formfitting dress I wore to the office today is pretty comfortable, but it can’t compete with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt now that I’m back home.
“You’ll still try though, right?” she pleads.
Evelyn is one of those optimistically bullheaded people. The kind who moves through life as if it will always work out and everyone else can just catch up. And for her, it usually does.
When she decided that she wanted to be a schoolteacher and everyone tried to tell her how criminally underpaid they are, she forged right ahead anyway, despite knowing how difficult being financially strapped could be, given our upbringing.
It wasn’t like we were destitute; our parents always kept a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our back. But sometimes those clothes came from Goodwill. And sometimes that food needed to last a couple of meals to get us through the week.
