Page 54 of Holidating
“The lengua tacos. Oh, and we have to get some guacamole. This is my treat, by the way. Because you won our bet.”
“Yum. Thisisa treat. Although I'm not convinced I won this bet, Westie.”
The nickname makes me smirk. “You absolutely did. Besides, I was in the mood for Mexican.” I am also in the mood for Abbi, who's happily perusing the specials on a card taped to the napkin dispenser.
When the waitress comes back a few minutes later, Abbi actually giggles as the frosty margarita lands in front of her. “Someone else bringing me a drink! This is awesome."
Well, hell. Now I want to bring her all the drinks. "So how's the job search going?" I ask after the waitress takes our order.
“It’s…going,” she says, propping her cheek in her hand. "I havetwo interviews coming up in New York, one at a big clothing brand, and one at a bank. But one of the jobs is in social media.”
"That's not good?"
She fingers her silverware. “Itcouldbe good. I realize that everyone starts somewhere. But some of these brands are so big that they have a stable of young women whoonlydo social media. It's a game of likes and clicks. But there’s no way to advance. And when you can't stand it anymore, you quit and they just find another fresh-faced grad.”
“So you'll keep looking,” I say.
“I’m going to try. I have a lead on a job at a mortgage bank, too. That's the opposite situation—it’s all interest rates and credit checks and building the loan portfolio."
“That sounds…”
"Dry," she prompts. "It's okay, you can say it. Maybe I have to pay my dues somewhere boring. I still need a paycheck and a foot in the door somewhere. And if I pick something in a major city, at least I'll be locating myself in a decent job market."
"You'll get there.'' I sound like a damn cheerleader. But I mean it. Who wouldn't want Abbi on their team? “Someone will appreciate you for more than chicken wings and beer."
"God, I hope so."
"You'll probably get a good recommendation from the flannel people, right?"
"Oh, definitely. In fact, they've asked me to come in for a few hours tomorrow."
“Weren’t you done with that internship?”
"I was. But now they want to pay me fifteen bucks an hour to straighten out thenewintern. It sounds like she's super clueless. She keeps posting rectangular images in the company Instagram feed."
"Oh the horror."
Abbi grins. "The flannel people are so confused. They don’t know what to do with a millennial who can't handle social media. It’s like a duck who refuses to quack.”
I crack up. “Any chance the flannel people will offer you a job?”
Her eyes meet mine as she shakes her head. “It’s a family business. They could be so much more if they tried, you know? Thequality is there. But they’ve been making the same product line for fifty years. Besides—guess what they wanted from me as an intern?”
“Social media?”
She makes her fingers into a gun and shoots me. “You got it. And only social media. They see me coming with my marketing degree—and barely old enough to legally drink a margarita—and they’re like,here is our TikTok account. Please do whatever it is that TikTok is for.”
I snort. “And did you light up TikTok for them?”
“You know it. I dressed up the owner’s dog in flannel and got three million views.”
“Three million?” I yelp.
“It’s a really cute dog,” she says from over the rim of her margarita glass. “And it’s really nice flannel.”
“But no wonder companies want you to do social media, babe. You’re good at it.”
The compliment makes her blush. “I probably just got lucky. But enough about dogs in PJs. What’s up with you?”
