"Unconventional"
Saray Richardson didn't think that anything worse than being losing her job couldn't happen to her.
Boy, was she wrong?
Her life made a U-turn and drove right off of a cliff when she received a text message from her boyfriend of almost a year yesterday.
Just like that - she was single and unemployed.
To make matters worse, he not only did it over text, but he didn't even give a reason.
In just one snap, Saray's love life had turned for the worst and crumbled.
Safe to say, she lost it - and rightfully so.
Saray tried to call him, but he wouldn't answer. He wouldn't even reply to her text messages. He went as far as blocking her number, erasing her from his life like she never even existed.
No one likes a breakup, but there's a better sense of closure when you do it in person to at least talk it out. He left Saray wondering what she did that was so wrong.
Yesterday they were great, they were even planning to go on a date at the end of the week. What could have possibly changed in a day?
The poor girl was distraught and spent the whole day locked up in her loft.
It felt as if the world was out to get her.
Saray stayed in bed, crying her eyes out all day. She didn't even eat and wasn't in the mood to do so.
Already she was a sensitive person, so these two traumatic changes felt like someone had run over her cat.
And she didn't have a cat or any animal for that matter.
From here, all she could do was heal, and Saray knew that. But that was so much harder to do when she didn't know what went wrong.
Saray ended up crying herself to sleep that night with all her snotty tissues surrounding her.
It wasn't until she switched her sleeping position that she fell off her bed, crashing right on the wooden floor.
"Ow," she let out a strained groan.
Saray's eyes fluttered open, and she slowly sat up, looking around her bright room.
The sun was intrusively shining right through her window, giving her the beautiful view of busy Seattle.
Grumbling, Saray rubbed her head and felt her tangled, messy curls. She hadn't twisted her hair last night either.
Saray swallowed in discomfort and distaste - her mouth and lips were so dry you'd think she slept in front of a heater. Plus, she hated the taste of morning breath.
With a sigh, she sat on her knees, searching through her tissue blanket for her phone.
Finding the device, she reached over to her bedside table and grabbed her round glasses.
After putting them on, she pushed the power button. Her brown eyes bulged at the time.
She had a job interview today.
Saray let a groan, hopping to her feet and running right to the bathroom. After putting her hair up, she had a quick shower and threw on the first thing she noticed on her floor.
Barely glimpsing in the mirror, she grabbed her purse, phone, keys and was out the door.
'''''
An elevator ride had never felt so long in Saray's life. She was freaking out.
Saray really needed this job. Her last one didn't work out due to her very bright personality. If she didn't get this job, it was just gonna be another thing added to the list of things going wrong in her life.
The elevator doors open, and she basically ran out, coming upon an empty receptionist desk.
The desk that would be hers if she somehow was able to get the job.
Behind the receptionist area was a slightly cracked door. Saray took it upon herself to peek inside the fancy-decorated office that was also empty.
Behind the glass-desk was a vast window that gave you a beautiful view of the city.
A better view compared to the one she usually stares at every morning.
It was tranquil, which is weird for a morning in an office.
Where was everyone?
Saray backed out of the office, standing in the receptionist area. She was unsure of where to go.
There was a hall, but she wasn't sure she should wander around.
Fortunately for her, she started to hear voices from said hall. She flattened out her clothes, standing up straight.
Two men in a suit, one black, one white, and both equally attractive appeared.
The two men laughed and conversed about a meeting they just had with the staff, which Saray assumed the rest were down the hall.
It wasn't until they almost bumped into her that they even noticed she was there.
Both of them frowned at her. Not only was she a stranger to them, but her unique style made her stand out. She looked to be in the wrong place.
"Hi!" Saray greeted them eagerly, her bubbling personality being the first thing they noticed right off the bat.
"Hi," said the black guy, awkwardly glancing at his friend.
"I'm Saray," she gave a wide smile.
Saray didn't get a reaction from the two. She only got stared at like she was an alien on the wrong planet.
They obviously didn't know who she was. That only increased her ever-growing nervousness.
Did she come to the wrong place? It wouldn't be the first time.
"Saray Richardson, I'm here about the assistant job for Charles Swanson."
"Oh right!" The white guy snapped, a frown still on his face. He had definitely pictured Saray differently in his head. She didn't look like any average assistant.
"You're Charles?" Saray asked.
"Yes," he nodded, receiving a pat on the back from his friend, who left the two to talk. Charles looked at his watch. "You're an hour late."
"Yes, I know, but I-"
He walked right past Saray and toward his office. She didn't even hesitate to follow. "I woke up late, which I know isn't a valid excuse."
"No, it isn't," Charles went around his desk.
It was evident that he wasn't feeling very sympathetic. Charles didn't even look at her. And by the tone of his voice, he didn't care for her to be there.
Saray could tell she totally bombed the interview. So she did the only thing she knew how to do in times of a crisis:
"I really need this job," her words caused him to freeze before he sat down. She plopped in the chair in front of his desk.
"I know that I was late, and the last thing that you want is an assistant with poor time management. But trust me when I say that I am good at what I do and a very punctual person . . . well . . .most of the time." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "You know when life isn't trying to kill me."
Saray shakes her head, reeling her thoughts back in. "But that's not the point."
Before she knew it, Saray was talking so fast her brain couldn't even compute.
"I need this job, so please give me a chance. I can prove that I'm a good assistant. I can make coffee, write stuff up, print stuff out all that assisstancy stuff."
She was talking so fast, Charles couldn't even keep up. Not to mention, he noticed how frazzled and very in distress Saray was.
While she said she was organized, she seemed to be the complete opposite. If anything - she was a hot mess.
There was a long pause, Charles just staring at her in confusion and yet intrigue. Saray stared back like a begging puppy.
She didn't seem very reliable, and with all the things occupying his plate - his wedding included - Charles needed reliable.
"Look, Saray," he sat down. "I'm sorry, but I don't think this is going to work. I don't think you're fit for this job."
"No, don't say that. You seem like a nice man. Don't be that person to break the rest of my pieced-up heart." She places her head on the edge of his desk. "Don't make me beg . . . again."
Charles was utterly baffled. He had never had an encounter with someone who wanted to be an employee. Usually, the person would at least dress up for the job or at least act a certain way but no, Saray was being an unprofessional emotional mess . . . in other words herself.
As hard as it is to believe, she wasn't this bad when things were going great.
"Look, I'm really sorry. I hope you find . . . ."
Saray erupts in sobs, causing Charles to trail off.
His eyes widened, "Uh . . . I . . . you . . ."
It seemed like the more he tried to speak, the harder she cried.
"A-are you crying?"
"No," her voice broke. She sat up, taking off her glasses so she could wipe her puffy eyes. "I'm sorry." Saray apologizes, "It's not you. It's me. If I were you, I wouldn't hire me either. I mean, look at me. I wouldn't even break up with me in person."
"Come again?" Charles wasn't following.
"Text Mr. Swanson. He broke up with me over text message!" she involuntarily started to vent.
"Who dates someone for almost a year and dumps them over text!? And you know the worse part," Saray leans on his desk. "He won't even talk to me! He blocked my number. It's like our relationship never even existed. Who does that to someone?"
Charles had his hand over his mouth as he watched her break down with her head in her hands.
It was uncomfortable, and he was not sure what to do.
When he woke up this morning, having a girl fall apart from a bad breakup at his desk was not on his to-do list.
Charles grabs a tissue box and holds out it out to her. When he clears his throat, Saray looks up.
"Thank you," she took the entire box before blowing her nose in the tissue she pulled.
Charles didn't know what to say. He'd never seen a girl so heartbroken. He felt terrible for Saray.
Everyone has the right to break up with someone. But to ghost them - that was messed up.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her.
Saray frowns at him. "Mr. Swanson, how could I be hungry at a time like this?"
A laugh wanted to escape his lips, but he refrained. "Well, food makes everything better. Especially after a breakup."
"I can't think of food right now! Are you nuts?" She grabbed another tissue to wipe her nose, "and I don't want to impose."
"Saray, you just broke down in front of a stranger . . . you've already imposed."
Realizing she did, in fact, just have a breakdown, she rolls her eyes at herself in embarrassment. "I am so sorry."
"No, no, it's fine." Charles smiles warmly. "Highlight of my day, anyway."
Saray found herself to be flustered by his smile that was kind and genuine. She had felt like the whole world was against her. And for once, someone was actually showing her a bit of sympathy.
"Okay, maybe you're not in the mood for food. I get that." He leans on the desk. "But there is a milkshake place two blocks away. The staff and I go there all the time. You seem like you could use a milkshake."
At this point, Saray had calmed down a bit, balls of tissue clamped in her hands. She gave a sad smile, "a milkshake doesn't sound so bad."