“Sales. It says right there.”
“But what am I selling?”
“How am I supposed to know? Call them and ask.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I read the ad again, and then my eyes hit another ad a little bit below it. “Listen to this one: Do you want to earn high six-figures? Seeking professional for a unique job. Prefer MBA grad. Applicant would have to live in and wear a uniform. To apply, send resume and photograph to ...”
“I saw that, but it seems a bit off. Why do you have to live in and what sort of uniform?”
“Girl, who cares? High six-figures?” My brain was going into overdrive at the thought of making so much money. “I’d be a frigging maid for high six-figures. That means like over a hundred grand or something.”
“Yeah, I would even say higher than that. A hundred grand would be low six-figures.” Lucy looked thoughtful. “It seems like it would be close to a million dollars.”
“Whoa, could you imagine if I made a million dollars?” I chewed on my lower lip. “I could pay off all my debt and we could move to a two-bedroom apartment and then maybe I could take some time off to concentrate on my poetry book.”
“Girl, you don’t have an MBA and you’re not a professional, plus who knows what the job is ...” Lucy made a face as she shook her head. “It sounds super shady. Plus, you would have to live there.”
“You mean you wouldn’t like this apartment to yourself for a little bit?”
“Not really.” She giggled. “Maybe if I had a boyfriend and was looking to get laid. But I have no boyfriend and haven’t been laid in ...” She paused. “Well, you know.”
“I know, ugh.” I leaned back again and tried not to think of our awful dating situation. For two pretty girls in their early twenties, we had terrible luck with men. Neither one of us had had a serious relationship since we’d been in New York, and seeing as we’d both moved to New York right after high school, it was fair to say that neither one of us had ever had a serious relationship. “Do you think we’re the only two twenty-two-year-old virgins in New York City?”
“Yes,” she answered immediately and emphatically. “And if you didn’t hear me the first time, yes. Even the Mormon girls on their year off come to the city and get laid.”
“How is it even possible we don’t have boyfriends?” I threw the newspaper on the couch and stood up. Jolene glanced up at me as if to say, Uh oh, here we go again. “We’re both pretty. I mean, you’re gorgeous, I’m pretty, and we both have awesome personalities. What’s going on here?”
“Maybe it has to do with the fact that we were literary and film nerds in college. And that we frequented poetry slams.” She shrugged. “We didn’t exactly meet many guys outside of the classroom.”
“Yeah.” I looked over at her. “Any luck at work? Any hotties?”
“Meh.” She shook her head. “No one I’m interested in losing my virginity to.”
“Give it some time, you’ve only been there a week.”
“Trust me, girl. I knew the first day.” She laughed. “There are no potentials. Plus, all I’m doing is getting coffees and lunch orders right now. I’m the lowest of the low. No one is looking at me.”
“I refuse to believe that.” Lucy was one of the most gorgeous women I knew. With her long, naturally light blonde hair and dazzling green eyes, she had a face that was universally considered beautiful. Sometimes I was envious of the way she seemed to glow so naturally, while I had to use fake tan and bronzer to glow even a little. Even then, I sometimes ended up looking a little orange.
“Savannah, you’re just as gorgeous as I am.” She beamed at me. “And we’re in the same boat, so it’s got nothing to do with our looks.”
“When I get a job, we’re going out and painting the town red.” I could already picture us out at the clubs, looking sexy and making men pant as we walked by. Okay, maybe not pant. Dogs panted, and the last thing I wanted was to be with a man who was a dog. I’d already dated a few of them. “And we will go to high-end, exclusive clubs and restaurants.”
“Oh, yeah?” She laughed. “So, I take it you’re getting a superb job then because I can’t even afford to go to Shake Shack more than once a month right now.”
“Don’t worry. We have to have a positive mental attitude. This time next year, we will both be in awesome relationships, making a lot of money, and having the best sex of our lives.”
“Well, it won’t take much for us to have the best sex of our lives, considering our current status.”
“Lucy, you overthink things too much.”
I headed to our compact kitchen which was right next to the living room. In fact, some people might say that the kitchen and the living room were one and the same, seeing as they were both in the same room. On one side of the room, there was a small oven, a small fridge, a sink, two cupboards, and a little island separating the kitchen from the living room, which held our couch, a small coffee table, and two bookshelves filled with books and DVDs. The coffee table was pushed against the wall and also held a fairly large TV. I opened the fridge and grabbed a chocolate pudding and then a spoon. I pulled the top of the pudding off and licked the top before dropping it into the trash can and heading back to the couch. Jolene looked at me hopefully as I dipped my spoon into the pudding and then gave me a dirty look as I shook my head. I loved my dog, but even I had to admit she was the greediest dog I’d ever met in my life.
Lucy crossed her arms. “Well, are you going to email and call about those jobs? I’m looking forward to this life of riches and excitement that you’ve promised me.”
“Fine.” I nodded. “Will you make some pasta for dinner?”
“But the pots?” She glanced at me and sighed. “Fine, I'll wash the dishes and make the dinner. You find yourself a job.”
“Thanks, girl.” I handed her my empty pudding container and spoon, and she rolled her eyes. I blew her a kiss, grabbed my laptop from the floor, and opened it up. I clicked on my email account and then grabbed the newspaper. I would email the six-figure job first and then I would call the other one. I much preferred to type than to talk. Even at poetry slams, I was always a little nervous speaking in public, and that was something I was good at. “Should I write a poem about why I’m good for the job?”
“Savannah Carter, shut the front door and get the hell out of town, are you joking me right now? No way, Jose! Do not write a poem for a job you’re inquiring about!”
“Okay, okay!” I laughed, knowing that while I was smart, I still lacked what my mother called common sense and street smarts. Sometimes, I had such harebrained ideas that even I wondered what I was thinking. I stared at the ad again for the high six-figures job.
Do you want to earn high six-figures? Seeking professional for a unique job. Prefer MBA grad. Applicant would have to live in and wear a uniform. To apply, send resume and photograph to [email protected].
Hmmm, I scratched a sudden itch on my back as I read the ad again. Why did they want a photograph? And what kind of job required a uniform? As much as I was interested in making a lot of money, I didn’t want to do anything illegal or crazy. Well, not too crazy. I wouldn’t dress up as a dominatrix and whip a man. Or would I? Would it really be that bad?