Page 10 of Not In The Contract
Yes.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I’ve been studying for so long that I can’t see myself doing something different. I have six hours of class every day followed by at least four hours of research and work, and I don’t know how to go from that to a corporate nine to five.”
Tamera frowned. “It doesn’t have to be a corporate job,” she said. “It doesn’t even have to be a nine to five. The greatest thing about our generation being entrenched in the workforce is flexibility. Work at the office, work from home. Work eight hours or a four-four split. Hell, some companies don’t care when you’re online so long as you log your hours.”
“But I don’t know how to make that transition,” I explained. “You know how hard it is for me to stick to routine. The one I’ve got going took me no less than four years to get used to.”
“And you still forget your classes,” she added, not unkindly.
“Exactly.” I groaned. “It’s one thing to forget a class, but a meeting?”
“We can work around it,” she said. “Do you have an idea of what you might want to do?”
I wanted to say yes, but it would be a lie. I shook my head.
“I feel like I’ve done every quiz out there.” I snorted, frustration needling at my heart. “I’ve talked to the counselors on campus about it too. And they have good advice. Their suggestions are smart, you know? Choose a career with longevity, something you can see yourself doing for years, something that pays well. But I’m not interested in earning heaps of money.”
“What are you interested in?”
“Helping people,” I admitted. “I don’t care about having a fancy car or a mansion. I just want what I do tomeansomething to someone. Even if it’s just one person.”
“That’s awfully noble of you,” Tamera teased, but I knew she was kidding. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we’re stuck in a capitalist society that pretty much demands that you earn money so the rich get richer.”
“Can we please leave Karl Marx out of this conversation?” I whined. “Things suck enough as it is.”
“You’re right.” She snickered. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t find something that makes you happy.”
I knew that. Or at least, Ihopedit was true.
After hearing Tamera’s horror stories during her time in the workforce, there was very little incentive to get into it myself. The last thing I wanted was to be chained to my desk until I retired.
“Or,” she added thoughtfully, “you could always come and work here until you find your feet.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “And how would I do that?” I snorted. “I don’t understand half of what you guys do. I’d just get in the way.”
“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “You could use your feminine wiles to lure more customers to me.”
“Like you need any help from me.” I chortled.
Tamera wasgorgeous. And so was Dahlia. I doubted they needed any help from me in that department.
“Is that your phone?” Tamera said suddenly.
I frowned before the familiar ringtone reached my ears and I scrambled to answer. “Hey, Paula,” I said, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt.
“Devon, hey!” she said. “What did you think of our little chat the other day?”
“I’m one hundred percent committed to my research,” I answered. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’m so glad!” she said, and I wished she’dget to the point. “I called Alex and she’s just emailed me to let me know that she’d be happy to have you!”
Pure, unbridled relief washed over me, followed quickly by a spasm of anxiety.
“Really?” I breathed, my lips twitching into a smile. “Thanks, Paula, I appreciate it!”
“Glad I could help,” she said. “Alex wants to meet you beforehand, of course, just to make sure it will be a good fit. She’s a bit of a stickler for structure.”
“Do I need to be worried about that?” I asked, hoping she’d interpret my question without me having to spell it out.
