Heart Strings

Salami

TEAGAN:

I'm running late to my first day of orientation for my first real big girl job and the man next to me on BART smells. Like salami. It's nearly 9am and this guy smells like salami.

Okay, to be fair, I probably won't be late. But I definitely won't be early. And truth be told, I'd rather be 30 minutes early than 3 minutes late and at this point I'll be lucky if I make it just in time. I feel frustrated knowing that the other new hire is definitely going to beat me there. And they probably didn't have a smelly guy next to them first thing in the morning.

The worst part of all of this is the coffee cup in my hand. I'm officially that bitch that's about to walk in not early with a Starbucks cup in my hand. I hate myself for them already.

As I sprint out of the Embarcadero station toward The Beat's headquarters building, I feel my scarf slowly dropping down heavily to the right side. With my binder in one hand and my piping hot latte in the other, adjusting it right now is not a luxury I most certainly can not afford. I feel it begin to drag on the damp ground and curse to myself.

The high rise elevator takes me to the 22nd floor where I burst through a big mahogany door with my foot, practically breaking my ankle in the process. That's a heavy ass door.

I give the receptionist my name and glance anxiously at the clock. 8:59am. I'll take it. I sit down and set my binder next to me, allowing me a free hand to assess the damage done to my scarf. When I see that the whole bottom third of my scarf is completely swamped, I'm not even upset. I nod in solemn acceptance that this is just the day I'm living today.

As I prepare to remove it and shove it in my bag so I can at least pretend to look professional, I'm startled by someone saying my name.

"Teagan Portman?"

"Yes," I answer too quickly.

The eagle eyed woman fans me forward and says, "I'm Margaret Pierce, your boss. Call me Marg. Like short for the drink. Welcome. Sorry I'm running a bit late this morning. Our other new hire is already in the meeting room." She was running late? It was 8am exactly. This is why I'm early to everything. And the new hire had clearly gotten that memo too.

"Follow me this way," she continues.

I followed Marg through another large door, thankful that my foot wasn't taking the grunt of it this time, to a trendy office space with a too-large glass table and purple embroidered chairs. My eyes quickly fall to the back of the head of a brunette boy. For whatever reason, the thought that the new hire could be a guy never occurred to me. I quickly slip into the seat next to him as Marg crosses over and sits adjacent to us. I feel the eyes of the boy quickly scanning me as I adjust my things before he leans over and whispers, "You have something on your scarf." My head shoots up, and the smug asshole isn't even looking at me. He's looking straight ahead with a tight lipped smirk as though he hadn't just quietly humiliated me in front of my new boss. Just as I was about to shit on his existence for crossing me before I'd even had a sip of coffee, Marg interrupts.

"Alright. Both of your resumes were very impressive. That being said, just because you were both offered the positions does not mean that you won't have to prove yourselves in an on-boarding period."

As Marg speaks, I try to remove my scarf as nonchalantly as possible and quickly stuff it into my bag.

"Absolutely," asshole replies to her.

"Absolutely," I say with a passive grin.

"Both of you have the potential to excel here," Marg continues, "Part of the reason you two were selected was because it is my belief that you both have strengths that will compliment each other. Dean," she looks to the boy, "it is my understanding that you wish mainly in photography, is that correct?"