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“Emmy!”
Her boss’s high-pitched voice rang out across the office, bringing everything and everyone to a halt.
Emma stood up, peering over the cubicle wall. Should she answer? What if her new boss wasn’t calling to her, and she ended up looking like a moron on her fifth day? Emma waved her hand to catch the attention of Veronica, the young administrative assistant staring at her phone in the cubicle across from hers.
“Hey,” Emma hissed.
Veronica pointed to her earbuds and smirked.
Emma gritted her teeth and pointed in the direction of the boss lady’s office.
Veronica pulled one earbud out. “What do you want?”
“She called for Emmy. Do you think she means me?”
“I don’t know. Is your name Emmy?”
“No, it’s Emma, but that’s close—”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “If your name isn’t Emmy, then she didn’t mean you.”
“But it’s just so close to my name, and I’m new. She could easily think my name is Emmy and not Emma. Surely someone has called you Veronique at least once.”
“Nope.” The young woman yawned. “I need to get back to work.”
“What work? You were on your phone. You’re always on your phone.”
“I’m processing in my own way. I don’t judge you for your hair choices, so don’t judge me for how I process.”
Welcome to your mid-thirties, Emma, where suddenly you’re old and lame.
Her hands went to her hair. The loose bun was a mistake. Clearly, Cosmo was wrong, and updos weren’t making a comeback. Even after scrolling through Instagram while hiding in the bathroom from JD for an hour, Emma wasn’t sure what was trendy. There were too many looks and styles to sift through. She’d gone with her only decent pair of jeans, a crisp white blouse, and a navy blazer. Granted, she’d had the blazer since the early aughts, but the look was still classy.
Perhaps the outfit was as big a mistake as taking the job. From the minute she’d walked into the office filled with people almost all still in their twenties, Emma had been floundering in the shallow end.
She frowned, her lower lip trembling. Without the job, there would be no healthcare for her son. They’d be back to where they were a year earlier—struggling to survive.
Veronica’s tone was sharp. “Are you about to cry?”
She bit her lower lip. “No.”
“You look like you’re about to, and this is a place of business.” Her co-worker gestured to the surrounding office. “We’re one of the best marketing firms in the mountain west region. How would it look if the oldest person in the office was crying on her first day?”
“It’s my fifth day. Not my first.”
“What’s the difference? Either way, you’re bombing worse than Ben Affleck as Batman.”
Emma’s eyes widened as she mumbled, “I liked his Batman.”
“You would.” Veronica flipped her hair. “My point is: do not bring your personal drama into the workplace. I just got dumped by my friend with benefits and you don’t see me crying at my desk, because I’m a professional.” Veronica turned away, suddenly engrossed with whatever was on her computer screen.
Emma sank down into her chair. “Right, no one wants to hear about my problems.” She studied her blank computer screen and blinked away tears.
Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t know you or what you’ve had to give up. Deep breaths. It will all be okay.
“But it’s never okay,” she muttered. “Just write the piece. Don’t think about the rest.” Slowly, Emma’s fingers tapped out words across the empty screen.
Writing fitness and nutrition articles for a startup marketing firm wasn’t the dream. But there were medical bills and a tiny house with a mortgage to pay. It’s still writing, she reasoned. You’ve got this. Just write about the vitamins.
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