And as always, (for anyone who stumbles upon this), all writing is original so no reproduction/distribution without my permission! (You know, just to be paranoid and safe -_-)
10 points if you guess where the main character is from :)
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Introduction
Clickity-clackity. Clickity-clackity.
Whirrrrrrr.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Whirrrrrrr.
The noise was deafening. She could feel herself half-dozing off as she absentmindedly made 50 copies of 20-page packets of approximately 7,500 words for this week’s slew of meetings. She could hardly hear the soft-and-silky voice of what’s-her-name-again-indie-singer crooning at her through her iPod headphones. The smell of fresh ink on warm paper filled her nostrils, reminding her of the smell she got when she walked into Staples every fall when it came time to buy new school supplies - a favorite pastime that she pretended to engage in every time she visited the supply room to grab a new notepad or a box of black Skilcraft pens.
She wasn’t sure if she liked her job or not. To her great unexpected disappointment, she wasn’t able to land the advertising gig that she had been banking on for all of April. In May, when she finally heard back from a small advocacy-oriented non-profit in need of a social media-savvy marketing intern, she gladly accepted the position within two hours of receiving their email. At first, it sounded relatively interesting - they told her she would be writing blog entries, networking with similar organizations and perhaps even aiding in the development of a new campaign. When she arrived, it was a completely different story: the blog was already an unpopular read since it mostly consisted of one of the supervisors posting up pictures of her with eco-friendly shoes, shirts, bracelets, nose rings, light bulbs, toilet paper; “networking” really meant stalking the other organizations’ websites, plugging information into an Excel spreadsheet and not being able to actually make any phone calls; her ideas for the campaign were met with a that’s-cute-pat-pat smile. Thus, she found herself making copies and running around doing whatever oddball job they had for her. And she wasn’t even getting compensated.
On the upside, she was getting a first-hand look at what it really meant to rally up small voices to amplify one big voice for a specific cause. She was learning that marketing wasn’t just about having clever (read: manipulative) ideas, but it also required a significant amount of research. She felt like everyone in the office was genuinely interested in what they were advocating for, and this inspired her to find her own cause. She got free bagels in the morning. Lastly, she was in New York City - a city she had been dying to explore since she was seven years old.
She lived in a cozy apartment with two other roommates. The three of them saved as much money as possible by eating at home when they could, although they would dare to indulge themselves on the weekends. They all loved making sauce-less pasta with peas, mozzarella and butter, and watching a sappy movie on Lifetime every once in a while. One of them had a boyfriend; one of them had a boyfriend until a few weeks ago when he admitted (and this roommate was shocked at herself for not noticing earlier) that he was gay.
Derek had emailed her earlier that morning. Or rather, not her directly, but he had put her on his list of people to email while he was on a mission trip to Louisiana for six weeks this summer. It was strange to her, reading updates on the supposedly “crazy” things “God” was doing in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and now the devastating oil spill, as well as scanning the list of “prayer requests” he jotted down in earnest. “I covet your prayers very much,” he had written at the end. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, so she felt bad that she wasn’t able to help in this arena. She did send him a check for $25 to support him - anything more would have seemed overboard, considering the fragile state of their friendship/relationship, but every once in a while, she caught herself feeling the urge to actually pray for him. Yet how did one go about doing such a foreign ritual anyway?
She pushed away these sudden thoughts of Derek and his summer escapades. It wasn’t healthy, always having her thoughts return to him and his well-being. But hearing from him every week for the past three weeks, however impersonal it was, still opened up simultaneous feelings of affection and hurt mingled with regret and disappointment - the emotional wave was a bit addictive, and she found herself deliberately riding on it from time to time. Toward dangerous territory.
The copy machine finally came to an end with its printing, purring to a content lull of near silence. The entire room definitely smelled like Eau de Staples. She picked up the stack of papers that emanated heat in her arms and walked back to her cubicle to slip each 20-page packet into a pristine laminated-cover folder, being careful not to leave any obscene thumbprints.
She heard a light tap behind her. She swirled around in her horrendously uncomfortable chair to face the legal intern from four cubicles down and around-the-corner.
“Hiya stranger.” He smiled - rather, grinned - unabashedly.
“Hi.”
“I picked up some coffee from downstairs, was wondering if you’d want a free soy latte - I hate soy milk, but they made a mistake, so yeah, I’ve been wandering around to see if anyone would take it.” He stuck out a standard tall white cup with a brown biodegradable sleeve - the biodegradable part was important to the organization, especially Queen Eco-Blogger three cubicles to the right.
“Um, sure, thanks.” She accepted it and took a quick sip. It was still scorching hot.
“No problem!” He popped out as quickly as he came in.
She set the latte on her desk and waited for the clock to tick until 5 PM.
Whirrrrrrr.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Whirrrrrrr.
The noise was deafening. She could feel herself half-dozing off as she absentmindedly made 50 copies of 20-page packets of approximately 7,500 words for this week’s slew of meetings. She could hardly hear the soft-and-silky voice of what’s-her-name-again-indie-singer crooning at her through her iPod headphones. The smell of fresh ink on warm paper filled her nostrils, reminding her of the smell she got when she walked into Staples every fall when it came time to buy new school supplies - a favorite pastime that she pretended to engage in every time she visited the supply room to grab a new notepad or a box of black Skilcraft pens.
She wasn’t sure if she liked her job or not. To her great unexpected disappointment, she wasn’t able to land the advertising gig that she had been banking on for all of April. In May, when she finally heard back from a small advocacy-oriented non-profit in need of a social media-savvy marketing intern, she gladly accepted the position within two hours of receiving their email. At first, it sounded relatively interesting - they told her she would be writing blog entries, networking with similar organizations and perhaps even aiding in the development of a new campaign. When she arrived, it was a completely different story: the blog was already an unpopular read since it mostly consisted of one of the supervisors posting up pictures of her with eco-friendly shoes, shirts, bracelets, nose rings, light bulbs, toilet paper; “networking” really meant stalking the other organizations’ websites, plugging information into an Excel spreadsheet and not being able to actually make any phone calls; her ideas for the campaign were met with a that’s-cute-pat-pat smile. Thus, she found herself making copies and running around doing whatever oddball job they had for her. And she wasn’t even getting compensated.
On the upside, she was getting a first-hand look at what it really meant to rally up small voices to amplify one big voice for a specific cause. She was learning that marketing wasn’t just about having clever (read: manipulative) ideas, but it also required a significant amount of research. She felt like everyone in the office was genuinely interested in what they were advocating for, and this inspired her to find her own cause. She got free bagels in the morning. Lastly, she was in New York City - a city she had been dying to explore since she was seven years old.
She lived in a cozy apartment with two other roommates. The three of them saved as much money as possible by eating at home when they could, although they would dare to indulge themselves on the weekends. They all loved making sauce-less pasta with peas, mozzarella and butter, and watching a sappy movie on Lifetime every once in a while. One of them had a boyfriend; one of them had a boyfriend until a few weeks ago when he admitted (and this roommate was shocked at herself for not noticing earlier) that he was gay.
Derek had emailed her earlier that morning. Or rather, not her directly, but he had put her on his list of people to email while he was on a mission trip to Louisiana for six weeks this summer. It was strange to her, reading updates on the supposedly “crazy” things “God” was doing in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and now the devastating oil spill, as well as scanning the list of “prayer requests” he jotted down in earnest. “I covet your prayers very much,” he had written at the end. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, so she felt bad that she wasn’t able to help in this arena. She did send him a check for $25 to support him - anything more would have seemed overboard, considering the fragile state of their friendship/relationship, but every once in a while, she caught herself feeling the urge to actually pray for him. Yet how did one go about doing such a foreign ritual anyway?
She pushed away these sudden thoughts of Derek and his summer escapades. It wasn’t healthy, always having her thoughts return to him and his well-being. But hearing from him every week for the past three weeks, however impersonal it was, still opened up simultaneous feelings of affection and hurt mingled with regret and disappointment - the emotional wave was a bit addictive, and she found herself deliberately riding on it from time to time. Toward dangerous territory.
The copy machine finally came to an end with its printing, purring to a content lull of near silence. The entire room definitely smelled like Eau de Staples. She picked up the stack of papers that emanated heat in her arms and walked back to her cubicle to slip each 20-page packet into a pristine laminated-cover folder, being careful not to leave any obscene thumbprints.
She heard a light tap behind her. She swirled around in her horrendously uncomfortable chair to face the legal intern from four cubicles down and around-the-corner.
“Hiya stranger.” He smiled - rather, grinned - unabashedly.
“Hi.”
“I picked up some coffee from downstairs, was wondering if you’d want a free soy latte - I hate soy milk, but they made a mistake, so yeah, I’ve been wandering around to see if anyone would take it.” He stuck out a standard tall white cup with a brown biodegradable sleeve - the biodegradable part was important to the organization, especially Queen Eco-Blogger three cubicles to the right.
“Um, sure, thanks.” She accepted it and took a quick sip. It was still scorching hot.
“No problem!” He popped out as quickly as he came in.
She set the latte on her desk and waited for the clock to tick until 5 PM.
© 2010 by Sarah R.
Posts
4 comments:
Hmm...an interesting read!
And, a possible spoiler alert here, but:
Is this character based off of real-life adventures of Ms. Sarah Ryu herself??
Sauce-less pasta = yuck ...
haha both eric and andrew already said what i was thinking
i was going to guess 500 days of summer but that's because i've never seen the movie before so it's just a wild guess.
keeeep writing
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