Prologue
SIGNE: ONE YEAR EARLIER
My name is Signe Lange,and I hate pretending that I like working.
I refused to believe anyone on planet Earth genuinely enjoyed clocking in for a nine-to-five office job. I was convinced that we were all lying through our teeth about how excited we were for the job opportunity during the interview process. In reality, we just wanted to ensure that we had a steady, reliable income.
“What made you want to apply at Sun Steer?” Jacqueline, the head of Sun Steer’s Human Resources department asked with a polite smile.
I need money to buy food and books, by any means necessary.
“I thought this seemed like an enjoyable company to work for—” I was such a liar, “And I like the idea of working with a close-knit team, like the job description mentioned,” another lie, I hated group projects with a deep fiery passion, “So since the commute was reasonable, I thought I’d shoot my shot.”
Jacqueline’s eyebrows rose a little at that turn of phrase, so I tried to recover by pasting a friendly smile on my face. It worked, and Jacqueline’s lips twitched a little at my blatant attempt to sweep “shoot my shot” under the rug.
She tucked one strand of dark loose hair behind her ear, the only strand of hair out of place from the slicked-back bun she wore. She nudged her glasses up her nose with a gentle push of her index finger as she asked me the next question, and I tried not to feel self-conscious that I was being interviewed by a woman as confident and professional-looking as Jacqueline. Her cream-colored pencil skirt lay perfectly without a wrinkle, and her light purple button-up blouse was flattering without being too revealing.
I felt underdressed, even though my cuffed jeans and striped button-up shirt were perfectly appropriate for this job interview.
Perhaps I was just worried that she would figure out that I had no intention of staying at this company long-term. I wasn’t meant to sit at a desk in a formal office environment, doing reports for others. I was meant to sit at a desk in the comfort of my home (or more realistically, my couch) while I wrote about fictional characters falling in love and doin’ it.
Sure, I wasn’t published or anything, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a ton of unfinished manuscripts saved on my personal laptop. I have been writing since I was in elementary school. It had always been a creative outlet for me. In the past few years, I have finally started taking my own writing seriously, fine-tuning my voice and my story flow. Occasionally, I posted whatever I wrote on online platforms for free, to see what kind of responses I got. Sometimes I got heart emojis, sometimes I got poop emojis. You win some, you lose some.
I wanted to be signed. I wanted to be published. I wanted writing to be my full-time job. Not boring managerial work. I wanted to clock in in my jammies at my desk at home, not in an office that smelled like burnt coffee.
The interview finished smoothly. Since it was my second one, and because the job I was applying for was entry-level, even though the interview process was designed to make the candidate feel otherwise, I was offered the job on the spot. As if a handful of candidates were applying for the position ofGeneral Office Managerand we were all in competition with each other.
A few days later, I showed up, dressed in another pair of hole-less jeans and a comfortable but elevated sweater to accommodate the frigid air conditioning I experienced during the interview process. Workplace casual.
“This isn’t your stereotypical office environment, you see,” Jacqueline explained to me as she gave me the office tour, “Things are a little bit more relaxed at Sun Steer.” I smiled and nodded because I quickly saw that she was right. The office space wasn’t colored in grey and neutral colors that reminded me of a hospital. There were warm reds, oranges, and blues painted sporadically on walls. The company’s logo colors. There were napping pods in a far corner, and Jacqueline showed me a sensory-friendly room designed for neurodivergent individuals. The lights in the room were dim, and the walls were a calm cream with a few plants in the corners. There was a hanging swing-like hammock with blankets and pillows and an essential oil diffuser.
Stereotypical office space, this was not.
The fact that there was also a mother’s lounge designed for women who are breastfeeding confirmed Jacqueline’s claim that perhaps this wasn’t going to be as dull and stuffy of an office gig as I originally thought.
We passed an open concept area where Jacqueline introduced the software engineers. There were about a dozen desk clumps, covered with large monitors and colorful keyboards that made the loudest clicking noise I had ever heard. A woman with medium-length black hair and dark eyes lined with eyeshadow, complete with a septum ring, stood from her desk when Jacqueline gestured for her to do so.
The woman was wearing a cut-off t-shirt with a fishnet layer underneath that went all the way to her wrists, a studded black belt completed the outfit with loosely fitted black cargo pants and Doc Martens.
“This is Mary Jiang, one of our senior software engineers,” Jacqueline introduced us as Mary held her hand out to me, and I grabbed it enthusiastically.
I already loved her.
“I’m Signe,” I smiled, Jacqueline had already mispronounced my name a handful of times and I figured it was easier for people to learn how to say my name from the source.
“You’re the new executive assistant,” Mary’s red-painted lips spread in a smile.
“Office Manager,” Jacqueline corrected Mary before turning to me, “Though you will be assisting upper management with minor reports and tasks.”
“Oh.” This was something I was probably told during the interview process but promptly forgot about because I tended to check out as soon as the conversation became boring enough.
“I’ll introduce you to some of the upper management team, I think they are in the office today,” Jacqueline smiled as Mary wiggled her eyebrows at me and returned to her seat.
That solidified it, I wanted to be friends with Mary.
Jacqueline then walked me through a different open-concept area of the office where the sales team sat. It was much noisier because most of the people were on calls. They also seemed way more anxious and uninterested in introducing themselves, except for a small blonde woman who waved at me. She seemed friendly enough.
We passed by a large fancy-looking desk that had one monitor and a desk phone, located at the front of the office. It’s the first thing people saw when they stepped off of the elevators. Jacqueline pointed it out as my desk space as we passed, turning the corner to where a small alcove of offices lined up.