My POV

It’s so rare that I take time out of my day to go and do something for myself. Having argued with my husband this morning over something stupid and after the chaos that was school drop-off, there was nothing I was looking forward to more than that first, glorious sip of coffee.

As I stepped into the coffee shop, I was instantly relaxed by the aroma of coffee beans. I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath. As I opened my eyes, whatever relaxation I was trying to cultivate evaporated into thin air when I saw… her.

Alice. The woman for whom my work was never good enough. Who pretended to care about others in her words but would be the first to stab that person in the back behind closed doors. The one who had it out for me the entire time I was in her organization, while simultaneously smiling and having matronly mentorship discussions about my career growth.

Dammit, all I had wanted was some peace and quiet. And now, I feel obliged to toe the corporate line, play the consummate professional and at least say hello. Good Lord, I do not want the conversation to go any longer than pleasantries. Is it possible she hasn’t seen me? And what the hell is she doing here anyway?

Plotting the next poor sod’s untimely departure? Scouring my LinkedIn profile for more reasons to dislike me? I know it always bothered her that I had interests and passions outside of work, which was rich, considering she never knew what I even did for her organization.

She didn’t even care when I single-handedly submitted an award nomination for the team and won! You’d have thought that would buy a little good will. But no, she canned my boss a month later and told me my role was “eliminated” the same day.

Look at her in her fancy designer outfits and those heels. I almost feel sorry for her. That this corporate nonsense may be her only semblance of joy or identity.

What a way to live.

What a way to die.

Having left nothing of real value. I wouldn’t attend her funeral, that’s for sure.

I was only going to order a regular drip coffee but – fuck it – let’s go big and get a cappuccino. It’s only espresso and frothy milk, but I get the feeling I’m going to want something with a little extra oomph in it to make it through this morning.

Alice’s POV:

Okay, let’s read this again.

“Dear Steve, thank you for your message yesterday and for voicing your concerns about the content of the all-hands meeting.”

No.

“And for expressing your concerns.”

“While we appreciate you sharing your thoughts, this news, while difficult was important for the organization to hear. During any restructuring, employees are bound to feel…”

Ugh.

Can’t someone else write this for me?

Dear Steve, get over it. You were useless in your role, and you didn’t do what you needed to do.

Can’t I just say that?

I take another sip of my mocha and glance around the café. Feeling the steam hit my glasses as I blow into the lukewarm cup, I wonder who that guy over there works for. Haven’t I seen him before?

Oh my gosh, is that Sam?

Geez, she never knew how to dress. Working from home will do that to you. Are those Aldi brand pants? And I’m pretty sure she carried that same tattered purse when she worked here.

Not that I ever saw her. She only flew into the corporate office when we told her she needed to come.

Other than that, there was always some reason she couldn’t be here. Maternity leave, husband deployed. Ugh, her military sob story got so boring.

And then, she had the audacity to blab it all over LinkedIn. Aw, poor veterans. Poor military spouses.

Give me a break.

Why don’t you focus on doing your damn job and less on your little side hustle.

Of course, she’s going to come over here. She knows she has to.

Shit.

What was her husband’s name again? And where are they living? I could never keep track.

//BREAK//

Dialogue Exercise:

Jeannie: “Oh, Aimee! I didn’t think I’d see you here today dear. Don’t you have that talk this afternoon?

Aimee: “Well, um. Yeah. But you know, there’s a lot to do at the store and it’s my turn to do inventory, so… I’m not going anymore.”

Jeannie: “Oh, that’s disappointing. You seemed to be looking forward to it.”

Aimee: “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s just… Caleb’s been getting ready for this big car meet next week. And it’s really important to him. He doesn’t really have time for stuff like this anyway. It’s not his thing. It’s okay.”

Jeannie: “It’s not his thing, it’s your thing. It’s your favorite author.”

Aimee: “I mean. Yeah but… it’s just a talk. I’m sure I could find the same stuff online about him you know? He’s done podcasts and stuff.”

Jeannie: “You could go by yourself.”

Aimee: “By myself? Oh. That would be weird. Caleb would never go for that. He… can be pretty protective like that.”

Jeannie: “And what would he say if you told him you were going without him?”

Aimee: “Uhh. He’d freak out.”

Jeannie: “I’ll go with you then.”

Aimee: “What? Really?”

Jeannie: “You tell him, a batty old lady insisted on you going and whisked you away. You had no choice but to oblige.”

Aimee: “I mean, that would be great but… what about Caleb? He’s gonna be mad.”

Jeannie: “Why would he be upset? You told him you wanted to go. You asked him to accompany you. He’s choosing not to come.

You’re choosing to honor that tiny spark inside you that longs for beautiful prose and seeks inspiration. If he gets mad at you for doing that, he's doesn't deserve you.

A man like that will chip away at your soul and make you think it was your idea.”

Sam Vale

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