Justice Blue: Back to Work

Allison made her way to the kitchen. Nothing sounded good. Nothing. Even the barest thought of food made her stomach consider renewing its rebellion. She knew that she would need coffee soon, but even the memory of its aroma brought a brief wash of nausea.

Thank god it’s . . . her mental train stalled on its tracks. Oh my god, it is Friday, she realized. She glanced at the display on the microwave. It read 2:38. That can’t be right, she told herself, making a mental note to finally fix its clock. She glanced toward the stove: 7:46. It was not much of an improvement, but probably much more accurate. Not that it mattered; there was no way she was going to make it into work by eight. Not that the boys would really care, she knew. They might each tease her about it: Thad in his mostly harmless flirtatious way, and Scott in some kind of dry and ironic sort of way. Would it go beyond that? Probably not, but she still hated being late.

Although they were both about her own age, she kept mentally referring to them as “the boys”. She suspected that a lot of that had to do with Thad’s outwardly adolescent behavior and Scott’s not-so-secret fascination with science fiction and comic books. For two guys who ran what was quickly becoming a multi-million-dollar company, they sure did not act like it sometimes. Still, Allison had read (and heard more than a handful of rumors) about some of the young entrepreneurs who had started some of the most successful companies out in Silicon Valley. Clearly, a grown-up attitude was not necessarily a prerequisite to a launching a successful business. Keeping one going, maybe—but apparently not starting one.

More than once, Allison had wondered how they had managed before she had come along. Well, stumbled along had been more like. As she turned on the shower, seeking distractions from her undecided stomach, she replayed her memories of her first meeting with the two in her mind.

She had gotten off on the wrong floor without realizing it, and then somehow transposed the suite number in her head as she roamed the too-white, artificially-lit corridors looking for the office where was going to now be only two minutes late for her interview. Bad form, she knew, but she had not anticipated the stalled car in the underground parking lot that ate up more than ten minutes before someone took the charitable initiative to help the driver move it out of the way. Any other day, she might have volunteered, but not today when she was dressed for success and in heels.

There was another interminable wait at the elevators. That one she had kind of expected—and it had probably seemed much longer than it was because she was already running late. Still, it all added up to her now being late for what was probably the most important job interview in her life. She had spent months looking for a position like this, cajoling close friends and passing acquaintances alike in an effort to make the necessary contacts. And now, here she was, already on her way to making a bad first impression.