Not A Bad Thing

4 - Lame Pick-Up Lines & Using All Options

"Imagine Jennifer's face if I actually got it," I smirked.

"Oh, I would have to record that!" he laughed.

"I would watch it on rerun for the rest of my life."

"What's up with you and reruns, anyway?" he asked seriously and I only shrugged.

"I like the idea of something not losing its meaning just because it's old," I finally replied.

He shook his head as he thought about that. "It makes sense."

"Of course it does," I smugly said.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. I am not letting you lose your job. We will get you that interview."

"What do you suggest?" I asked as I sat straight.

"First option, call his office."

"Alright." I grabbed my office's phone and dialed his number, which I had quickly found on a business online page of his job.

"Hello, Disick & Brown Enterprises. How can I help you?" a woman with quite a nasal voice greeted in a monotone voice.

"Good afternoon. I am trying to reach Mister Andrew Disick?" I was fidgeting with my fingers and George was anxiously looking at me while tapping his feet repeatedly against the carpeted floor.

"Wait a moment, please."

"Alright, thank you." The phone clicked and then another woman spoke up a few seconds later.

"Hello, Mister Disick's office. How can I help you?"

"Hi. I want to speak with Mister Disick."

"And you are?"

"Um, my name is Tess Guthy."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

"Well, then what is the matter about?"

"Uh, about an interview. Can you just hand the call to him, please?" I was starting to get annoyed. I had never worked as a secretary, but...where they that nosy?

"I'm sorry. Mister Disick does not take any interviews. Not on the phone or in person."

"Uh, yeah I know but...hello?" There was a thud and then constant beeping. I took the phone away from my ear and gaped at it. "The bitch hung up on me!" I whined to George.

George remained silent for a few moments and then snapped his fingers. "Second option, e-mail him."

I nodded and walked up to my laptop. I looked up his e-mail on the same online page and quickly found it.

George left my office to go and grab a notepad from his, so that he could start making his questions for the two men he would interview while accompanying me in my quest.

I cracked my knuckles and took a big sip of the bottle with water I always kept by my desk. I took a deep breath and started typing.

Hello, good evening Mister Disick.

This is Tess Guthy. I work for Glamour magazine. Glamour is making a section on successful entrepreneurs of New York. We want them to give tips to our readers on how to achieve success and so on. We are very interested in your collaboration and would be quite happy if you agreed to a small and short interview. Please let me know if you agree and when would be a right time for you.

Thanks for your time,

Tess Guthy

Board Member Editing Team

Glamour

I reread the message and proofread at least ten times before hitting send. I started to pull at the tips of my hair while I waited for an answer. About twenty minutes later, I got a response.

Tess Guthy.

Do not ever contact me again. I will block you and if you attempt to contact me again for an interview, or for anything, in fact, I will complain of harassment and will file a restraining order against you.

Andrew Disick.

CEO

Disick & Brown Enterprises.

I gulped in surprise and showed the e-mail to George. "Dick," he scoffed.

"Yeah, but he still keeps his job. I don't," I complained as I got my head in between my hands, not caring about my hair getting shuffled up.

"Option three," George said, dismissing me and my pessimism. "Get his cellphone number."

I stared at him in confusion. "How?"

"Research!" he claimed.

So I did. I called around until I found someone who knew a friend of his, got that friend's number and convinced him to give me Andrew Disick's number. Determined, I gave him a call. As soon as I mentioned Glamour magazine after my name, he hung up. I tried calling one more time and the line was dead, a woman's computerized voice announcing me I had been blocked and therefore could not reach the number.

I screamed lowly in despair and threw myself on the small couch I kept in my office. George remained resting on a wall, playing nervously with his hands as he assessed the situation.

He moved once again to my desk. "Okay, there is one last option. The only one left," George told me with a frown on his face as he read and reread the message Andrew Disick had sent me. He was still not over that while I stared at my phone, whose number Andrew Disick had blocked.

I threw the phone to the couch and bit my bottom lip. "Which is it?" I finally questioned with furrowed eyebrows as I paced around my small office.

George stared at me for a few seconds before saying his last option out loud. "You go to his office and try to convince him to give you the interview."

---*---*---

On the side you have Jerry.