3
I am attracting new possibilities by getting fired from old ones.
Part of me would like to think I imagined half of what took place yesterday on my first day at the new job, but I'm confident I will face much worse today. Apparently, Dan, Mick's right-hand man, made contact this child model, Wesley Moon, who, now at thirty, is still interested in participating in a milk campaign. Whether he is still a model, I don't know, but he is free to take part in the photo shoot today, which tells me he either doesn't model anymore or Wesley Moon is desperate. I don't see how he could be in search of jobs, looking the way he does, but somehow I landed my intelligent little self in this stupid situation too, so I shouldn't judge … yet. I can only imagine how big of a douche he is to take on a job like this one. No one in their right mind should take part in this campaign. Lacto Natural Central will never go for this ad, and we're wasting our time today.
I ordered four shots of espresso for my venti coffee this morning, then added the supersonic caffeine booster to my "favorites" section on the app because I suspect it will be my necessary order everyday now.
Minnie Mouse stands up to greet me as I bust through the front door. Her perky red-lined smile falls into a pout as I pass by her desk. "Good morning," I offer with a deadpan glance.
"Why hello," she squeaks. "I hope you have a wonderful day, Madelyn."
"Yup, you too!"
I place my coffee cup on my desk, realizing I forgot to bring in decor for my cubicle again. Subconsciously, or not subconsciously, I know I won't be sticking around for long if things will be like this around here, so I don't see a purpose in trying to remember a plant that'll be even more dead than it is now, by the end of the week.
The moment my butt hits the seat, Mick steps into the small space within my cubicle, looking around me as if I'm just an object in his way. “Conference room," he says.
Good morning, Madelyn. How are you today?
I'm just fine, thank you for asking, Mick.
"Mick, could I have a moment of your time, please?" I ask.
"What's up?" he says, still carefully avoiding eye-contact. Oops, my loose knit sweater might be too low-cut today—the scoop neck trim around my collarbone is a risk I took this morning.
"I'm over here," I tell him.He can fire me. The stripper pole isn't looking so gross and wet from here. He glances at me and holds his focus on my face, but looks pained in doing so. "This campaign will cause your company more problems than what you must be considering. Calling in a male model who is known for his 'Get Milk' ads is going against everything this company is most likely pursuing. Do you honestly think the client will be satisfied with the outcome of this photo shoot?"
"We're normalizing breast milk," he says. "I'm positive they will love our idea. We're putting their milk product on the same shelf as cow's milk, just like almond milk, and coconut milk."
"You're not getting this," I repeat. "The purpose of selling breast milk is for mothers, fathers, and guardians who don't have access or the ability to produce their own milk, but can still feed their child breast milk. There will be people who are sensitive to this idea and are against it. Therefore, going into this campaign with such a bold statement is dangerous."
Mick sighs. "I understand your concern, but I assure you, I didn't get to where I am today by playing it safe. Okay? Trust me. I know what I'm doing." The asshole winks at me and points his finger like a toy gun. Get the hell out of town.I could have you arrested for silently insinuating that you want to shoot me … with your finger.
I have nothing more to say. It isn't my name that will be lit into flames. Speaking of which … "I'm not okay with my name being attached to this campaign," I shout across the office, catching Mick before he steps into the conference room.
"We're a private firm. Don't worry," he says.Firm?I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Let's go, Madelyn. We need to meet with the other men now." He taps the door of the conference room and disappears inside.
"I'm glad that's how you see yourselves—men," I mutter below my breath. Normally, I'd take a moment to explain that I'm not a man, but he's confused about the difference between cow milk and breast milk, so I'm will take a guess that it's just not worth my time.
I grab my coffee and leave my notebook behind because I don't care enough to make notes. I can't believe I jumped at the first job opportunity to pop up on my freaking screen. Money isn't everything.
You really screwed up this time, Madelyn. Way to go.
The crowd from yesterday are seated around the oval table in their same seats from yesterday, and once again hunched over their iPads. I don't bother with a good morning because I'm confident they don't like me, which is fine. So far, I don't foresee a good office friendship developing with any of these "men" either.
"For those of you who stayed late yesterday to help coordinate this project, thank you," Mick says. "You know I am always thinking highly of those who give more than a hundred percent. For the ones who did not stay late, we were able to get in touch with Wesley Moon, the original 'Get Milk' model, and he will be joining us today for the photo shoot that needs preparation within the next twenty minutes."
"You know I was here late yesterday, right?" I ask Mick. He's been looking right at me while stating his remark about hard workers.
"Of course," he says. "Why, did you think I was talking about you?"
"You were looking right at me," I tell him, snickering at his stupidity.
Mick clears his throat and looks around the table. "Where is Carla?"
No one answers, and I will guess that Carla is the woman occupying the cubicle next to mine.
"The photographer is downstairs," Dan says. "I received his text alert. He said Wesley Moon is with him."
