Huh, that’s probably why. Two years isn’t anything once you leave college, but in high school, it’s basicallya decade gap.
It’s not like I remember people from school, anyway. It’s weird to live in a small town and only vaguely remember people you spent your entire childhood with. This mental block I have shows me just how disconnected I was in Austin. It’s scary to just … lose a sizeable chunk of my life because I was so determined to get away and make something bigger and better of myself.
Look how well that turned out.
Ledger Hutton:
Oh yeah, absolutely. So, the presentation. I’m thinking about going the sustainability route. Choosing plants that are sustainable for your area but also using what homeowners and business already have to create less overall waste on projects.
Ainsley Mathews:
Love it! What do you need from me?
Ledger Hutton:
Well, I’m thinking I can handle the actual source material, like how to find sustainable plants, and you could handle putting together the actual presentation. I’m shit at making things pretty, and this needs to be a blowout presentation.
Ainsley Mathews:
I can handle that. Give me all the must-have information, and I’ll start putting it together.
Ledger Hutton:
Thanks, Ainsley. I’ll have it to you by the end of the day. If you finish up all the other tasks early, just call it a day.
Ainsley Mathews:
Um, okay, thanks.
I still find it weird that he’s so adamant on the schedule. It’s been a few weeks, and I’m still not used to having an abundance of free time. And by free time, I mean babying my new vegetable garden and endlessly scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.
God, I should really figure out something productive to do with my life.
Turning my attention back to work, I start going through Ledger’s email.
Ledger.
Our conversations have gotten more and more friendly, and less strict-boss/ employee. Although, I’m not sure he was ever a strict boss.
He’s intriguing. Owning his own business takes hard work and endless dedication, yet he’s still down to earth and incredible to work for. This may have been a means to an end—whatever end that is—but he’s making me feel like this could be a new direction for me. I like what I’m doing right now. Is it sometimes boring? Yes, but I have freedom in this job. Freedom to take initiative and be recognized when I have a good idea. Freedom to really contribute to this business he’s worked so hard to grow. It feels more meaningful. And a hell of a lot more fulfilling.
It makes me wonder why climbing the corporate ladder was ever a goal. They don’t care about you. You’re just another replaceable cog in an endless machine.
It’s because you were told over and over again in school that it was the only way to be successful.
What a load of shit. I’m happier stuck in this small-ass town than I was in the last five working with a bunch of whiny dickheads.
The thought catches me off guard. Not about corporate America being the killer of souls but about being happy here.
Am I happy here?
I don’t get a chance to contemplate it because a couple of women my dad’s age plop down at the table I’m working at.
“Little Miss Annie, I never thought I’d see the day,” the one with flame-red hair—clearly dyed—says.
“How is it working for the senior Hutton? He is just dreamy, isn’t he?” the other one with long gray hair asks.
“Umm, hi. Yes, I’m back, and I wouldn’t know because we haven’t met,” I respond, hoping if I answer their questions quickly, they’ll just run along and leave me alone to work.
