Page 1 of Hating the Boss

Chapter 1 Sarah

The bus came to a slow stop, the loud tss sound filling my ears, joining the chorus of busy morning sounds of Brooklyn surrounding me. Taxi doors shutting. Dull chatter of morning commuters walking toward the subway. The rat-tat-tat of a jackhammer pounding the pavement. As the doors of the bus fold open, I double check the glowing letters on the side of the bus, assuring me that it is going to take me into Manhattan.

Riding the bus was a new experience for me, having switched from riding the subway to save a couple extra bucks. Every little bit counted, now that I was no longer an accountant, but a waitress. After the drama that happened at the accounting firm I was at prior, including blackmail and an office affair, the excruciatingly long investigation into the company had put a stall on the entire enterprise.

My friend, Juliet, had been smack-dab in the middle of it all, having fallen for the CEO of the company. She ended up having his baby, and now they were married and living out their happily ever after, with their blackmailer now in prison.

Even though the company took care of those affected, I took it as a sign to maybe switch directions. I just didn’t know what that direction was yet, so I had been working at a restaurant in the limbo of it all. As the now wife of the CEO, Juliet had begged me to stay on the accounting team. As my friend, she had begged me to let her help me out with money. But I could never take the financial aid she offered to loan me. It didn’t feel right. I appreciated her as my friend. Money would muddle those waters.

Plus, I didn’t want her to feel guilty for following her heart. Something I had encouraged her to do, even if it had been a risky move for her and Chester. It had worked out for them, and I couldn’t be happier for the love they had and the family they now had with their daughter, Blair. I had even been a bridesmaid in her wedding.

Besides, being an accountant had never been a true passion of mine anyway. In fact, I wasn’t sure what my true passion was yet. I kept telling myself I was still young and figuring it out. Despite applying for several jobs, including a sales job and a booking agent’s assistant, the only one I had received a call back for was for a personal assistant, which was where I was heading now. Not the most exciting, but it was a job, and I needed one desperately. Tips from waitressing were just barely enough to scrape by.

And I didn’t have the luxury of being picky or waiting for the job I would fall in love with. This was New York City, not exactly the most affordable place to live. Even Brooklyn was getting bougie.

“Sixth Avenue?” asked the bus driver, raising an impatient brow as he looked down at me, slinging his elbow over the back of his seat.

“Yes,” I stammered, grabbing the cool metal railing and quickly clambering up the steps humming underneath me.

I hadn’t yet found my seat before the bus came to life, rumbling away from the curb as I clutched the seat heads tightly, careful not to accidentally grab anyone’s hair. Unsteady in the black patent pumps my sister had lent me, I fell into a nearby seat and shot the driver a look. He looked smug in the large rearview mirror as he maneuvered around morning traffic.

My phone rang in my purse, breaking me from the grudge that was beginning to form. I unlatched the gold clasp of my black shoulder bag and fished out my phone. It was my best friend, Brittany.

“En route?” she asked chirpily before I could get a hello in.

“Almost broke an ankle on the damn bus, but yes. I’m on my way to interview for my dream job,” I muttered.

“I can sense the sarcasm all the way from my apartment.”

“Wow. All two blocks away? It really does carry.”

“Hush.” She laughed. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” I admitted, looking out the window, noting the dark gray clouds hovering over the city, swallowing the tops of taller buildings. “I really need this job.”

“I know,” said Brittany, her voice growing serious. “Did you read those articles I sent over last night?”

“All twenty of them?” I asked with a smirk.

“Hey. It’s better to be prepared.”

“I know, I know. First impressions and all that.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I was still getting used to the brown color, having dyed it late last night specifically for this interview. I figured magenta hair might be too much for the corporate world, although it had never mattered at my last job. You never knew with these big-wig companies.

“How does the dress look?” asked Brittany eagerly.

I looked down at the cream dress that stood out against the faded gray and blue pattern of the bus seat.

“It’s probably my best asset,” I said, running my hand over the smooth fabric.

“Not true!” she said. “But it’s up there…”

I laughed softly as I shook my head.

Brittany had customized the dress I had found during one of our shopping trips last week at one of my favorite vintage stores in Williamsburg. It didn’t look like much on the rack, but Brittany plucked it up excitedly, clearly seeing something I couldn’t. She had held it up against my faded, distressed denim and black tank top before shoving it into my arms decisively, along with the matching blazer on a nearby hanger.

An hour later I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror and Brittany was tucking fabric and carefully sticking colorful pins all over, only drawing blood once. She was in her element, her chestnut hair pulled into a messy bun being held up by a roll of soft measuring tape. It reminded me of when we were in middle school home economics class. I could make a mean cake, but I couldn’t sew a straight line for the life of me. Brittany, on the other hand, went on to make us matching outfits and designing our prom dresses years later.

“I think it might be your best work yet,” I told her, noting the stitching on the hemline she had brought up to a flirty, yet professional length that sat against the skin-colored pantyhose I wore.