Also, how am I suddenly the IT person as well?I not only created the presentation deck, but I also took care of the campaign planning for the launch of Stella Rose.I helped prepare the media kit for editors and stylists and I coordinated influencer gifting.The PR coordinator isn’t coming back, because they’ve gotten both jobs done for the price of one.It’s all getting to be too much, and I feel stuck.My dream is in tatters.
“It’s good exposure for you,” she said, when the PR coordinator left, and she offered me the chance to take on some of those responsibilities.Naturally I ran with them, expecting Katherine to notice.She did notice, but she still hasn’t given me the job title and salary commensurate with my duties.
Now she has me doing all the PR tasks as though they’re a part of my normal job.And I’m still a junior even though the work I do is a few pay grades above.
I look up to see Katherine storming towards me like a juggernaut.“Anotherproblem?Onstage, in front of our guests.This is outrageous!”
“This was a technical hiccup with the USB receiver—”
“I thought you’d fixed it.”
“It was a new error.A hardware problem.The previous one was to do with a software setting.”
Neither problem was my fault.
She waves her hand, dismissively.“We must look like imbeciles.Did I not impress upon you the importance of this high-profile event?”
“I fixed it!”I cry, refusing to take the blame.For a dangerously charged moment we stare at one another.I’m expecting her to pounce, but she blinks furiously.
“You’re responsible for ensuring that everything to do with the presentation deck smoothly.”Her deathly quiet voice sends shivers down my spine.
Sometimes I remember how my mother felt, how unjust this world can be, and I refuse to stand for it.But then sometimes I’m brought back quickly to reality, where I’m forced to face the cold hard facts.
It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that I’m right.
That Katherine is wrong, that Tom is nowhere to be found.
It doesn’t matter that the world is unjust.
It doesn’t matter that bad things happen to good people.
My mother is a good person, and yet she’s endured so many bad things and now I’m being blamed for something I didn’t do.History repeats itself and I find myself living in the same loop, the same circle.I want to break it so badly.But if I’ve learned anything during my time here, it’s that there’s no point in standing up to Katherine.This is why I need to move to another company; one that will appreciate me.I need to work for a boss who won’t be bad for my mental health.
Until then I’m stuck here, because, unfortunately, I need this job.I earn a great salary and I’ve been able to save up even after paying for my rent and utilities, and I can help my mom.
The promotion Katherine’s dangled in front of me, like a big, fat juicy carrot, is just a mirage in a desert where all my dreams have gone to die.I still love being part of this world, even if it’s just between the hours of nine to five.Or seven thirty to ten, which is what I’ve worked on many occasions.
I don’t hate Stella, or the obscene amounts of money they charge for what is just an accessory, not a necessity.There’s something about a Stella bag, about the delicate and perfect stitching, all the tiny little details, the softness of the leather, and the perfect craftmanship, that takes my breath away.Throughout our lives, what with the jobs my mom has worked, we’ve often been on the sidelines, looking in on a world that is closed off to us.Stella offered a dream: I could be a part of that world, even if I was just working there, I was doing work that was different to what my mom did.
A round of applause shakes me from my reverie.Cecil must have finished the presentation which means it’s now time for the mini runway.I peek out quickly.The lights dim and chairs are eased back as a handful of models appears in sequence.They’re dressed in clean, neutral lines that won’t detract from what they’re showing off: the new Stella Rose line.Each of them carries a single leather handbag from the new collection, worn, held, slung, shown in motion, rather than displayed.I hear excited gasps.
The guests like what they see.
Canapes and drinks will follow shortly, which means I desperately need to change quickly.I reach for my rucksack.
“Where do you think you’re going?”I try not to startle at the sound of Katherine’s voice.
“To get changed.”
“Get changed?”She looks at me as if it’s the most ludicrous thing she’s heard.
“I’m allowed to mingle at the after-party, am I not?”
“Mingle?”She laughs, splaying an elegant, manicured hand on her cream-colored structured brocade jacket.The jacket is paired with wide-leg silk trousers that fall perfectly to the floor.I feel like an absolute wreck standing next to her.
“You won’t have time to mingle.”
