I look at the line of people waiting for an interview, and hope that I'm doing the right thing. Well, I have to find a job soon or my dad will kick me out of the house. Our latest conversation included the words 'leech' and 'free loader'. I look back at the application in front of me.
Name: Callie Ericsson
Somewhere along the ancestry line somebody came from Sweden, giving my family members straight blond hair and blue eyes, yet the genes seem to have skipped me as all I got was frizzy black hair and brown eyes that can't see a thing without glasses.
Age: 26
People think that I'm 19 so I have that going on for me. My parents still treat me as if I was 12. Because apparently I behave like if I am 12.
Education: ... plenty
I went to college to study accounting as my Dad wished, but after a few months I changed my major to art history. Then a year later I studied marketing, but there was something so attractive about literature that I ended up doing it. I didn't finish any of them, but four attempted majors have to count for something, right?
Work experience: ... some
Barista for a week, who knew there were so many ways to make a coffee. Mobile phone saleswoman for a month, hated the shady boss I had at the strip mall. Candy seller, ended up eating half the inventory and using my salary to pay for it. Baby sitter, that is up to now my greatest success. Especially my crafting skills are very appreciated by the kids.
Address: ... at my parents home
My mom thinks that I suffer from 'failure to launch'. I just have had bad luck on probably everything in my life. Finding a job and keeping it. Finding a boyfriend and keeping him. I guess that I have never come across anything that I love enough to keep.
Dress size: 16... no, make it a 12
I'm curvy. Only the curves seem to be in all the wrong places. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, begins my guilty hell of indulging and then regretting it. I have been size 12... when I was 12 years old.
"Next!"
I look up to realize that I'm next. I grab my application and my purse and enter a tiny office that is completely filled with files and papers. There is a woman behind a desk with a suicidal look and more stacks of paper on her desk.
I hand her my application and she let out hopeless sighs as she reads it.
"Gift wrapping counter," she says, writing something on a paper.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"I can offer you a job at the gift wrapping counter,"
"But I'm applying for a job at the perfume and makeup counter," I say, feeling disappointed.
"Look lady, I don't want to be rude, but have you looked at yourself in a mirror? You need to look the part to play the part, and you are not even wearing makeup,"
"I prefer the natural look," I say, trying to save my dignity.
"People that shop at the makeup counter are not looking for that. Gift wrapping is the only option you have for what I can read here. I have a million people to see. Do you want the job or not?"
My dad's threats run through my head and I nod.
"Great. You start at 5:30 a.m. on Friday. Take this slip and head to the basement to get your uniform,"
"But Friday is Black Friday! I will need to leave my house at midnight to find a parking spot here at the mall!"
"You and everybody else that works here, including me. Off you go and happy holidays,"
I grab the slip and head to the basement. I hand it to the attendant there.
"Green female elf dress, size 12," he says with a smirk.
I look horrified at the dress that is two sizes too small for me.
"They seem to run awfully small. Can I have a... a 16 will be about alright,"
"Nah, they have a good fit. Here, the slip written by Tina says that you are a 12. She won't make that up," he says, showing me the paper.
I grab the awful clothes and leave, feeling mortified. I think I have figure forming underwear that I used for a wedding a long time ago. I doubt it will make me two sizes smaller, but I have no choice.
Shitty moments deserve comfort food, so I head to a coffee shop for a well deserved latte and a cinammon roll. I manage to sneak in a bit of shopping before I head home to celebrate my new chance with my parents. At least this job will keep my dad's mouth shut for a bit and a roof over my head.
I come home to find an empty house. Disappointment fills my heart. Of course, it is already seven in the evening and my parents are at the church bingo tonight.
I head to the kitchen to make me something to eat. All that shopping has left me hungry. I feel shocked at the amount of grocery bags on the counters. Are we feeding the whole street tomorrow?
I can't even cook, there is no space. The top of the stove is covered in bags. I opt for making myself a sandwich, grabbing a bottle of wine and having no option but to spend the night watching Thanksgiving comedy episodes.
Happy new job to me...