Life as a New Hire Ch. 01

"Are you implying we are lying to you?" Violet glared.

"I'm implying you six are treating me like an idiot and none of you are graduates of the NSA, CIA or the New York Academy of Fine Arts, Violet," I glared right back.

"You are not being a team player," Theresa gave me a smug look.

"Now we are back to me being treated like an idiot," I sighed. "Let me see, each of you knew where your assigned person was, Buffy didn't see the need to greet Fabiola, Fabiola knew where the car keys were kept, she knew right where the Exeter Building was without accessing our onboard navigation system. She found a parking spot in downtown New York City at ten in the morning in under fifteen minutes...shall I go on?"

The hush was so pronounced that not only could I hear our elevators quiet whir, I could hear the noise from the ones on either side of us. The women exchanged nervous looks.

"You could still come out and join us for some drinks," Daphne jumpstarted things.

"I'm seeing somebody," I countered.

"You don't have a girlfriend," Paula stated confidently. Yep – dating survey.

"I met a nice female mime (might as well confirm my heterosexuality) and after an in depth conversation I think we have a lot in common so we are giving serious thought about going out tonight," I lied. Oh, it was an obvious lie alright. I wanted it to be.

"She could join us," Tigger suggested. They were freaking relentless. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened and we exited onto the ground floor.

"And that would make sense because on the first date I'd want to surround her with a bunch of women she doesn't know and probably has little in common with...I don't think so," I mused.

They watched me prep my bike, affix my helmet and pedal off to freedom while hovering around and trying to create a new game plan.

"Let us know how the date goes," Fabiola called out.

"Like that is going to happen," I muttered as I sped away.

I had studied the route between the corporation headquarters and my domicile for three days and gone onto multiple chats with my fellow cyclists to get a feel for traffic flows, road construction and back alleys. This allowed me to get home in just under fifteen minutes. I lugged my bike up the three flights of stairs – my neighborhood was far from the safe confines of the skyscraper – and settled into my shared flat.

The apartment was rather close quarters, but my roommate, Timothy (never Tim), was a descent sort. Timothy was an exercise-conscious, gay tattoo artist with a good professional reputation and he found my choice in employment amusing. Timothy said I was swimming against the current. I told him salmon did it every year. He countered with salmon don't jump Angel Falls.

I was starting to feel he was prophetic after only one day. I didn't dwell on it too much. I did our laundry, picked up our common area then started in on dinner. That consisted of microwaving frozen vegetables and sausage and bacon biscuits. I left that to warm while I worked out. When Timothy walked in he laughed and shook his head.

"You are the best boyfriend I never had," he chuckled. "Did you do my laundry too?"

"Yep," I said. I put my tablet down and headed to the kitchenette.

"Even the underwear?" he teased.

"If that's what you like to call it," I teased right back.

Timothy tended to dress like a Chippendale dancer on his date nights. Thankfully, he had the body for it. Double thankfully, we were both okay with our sexuality. At the start, he had told me he was coming off a long term relationship that imploded. I told him I was heterosexual who had a chronic problem with fidelity.

(Tuesday)

My mobile phone rang at three o'clock – in the a.m. It was Katrina telling me that I was to get my ass over to corporate, find Desiree and do what she said. Katrina hung up before I could ask for an explanation. Twenty-two minutes later I was back at work. I pulled my 'Clark Kent.' then phoned Desiree Fredrickson who was already in the garage – level one.

She was waiting for me, trying to look impatient, but I knew the 'threw on whatever was handy' look from too many 'confused girls in the morning' experiences. I looked at her grim countenance and decided to be professionally polite.

"You have this spot at the right corner of your mouth," I quietly informed her.

While driving, she peeked into the rearview mirror and used her tongue to correct the dried drool problem. There was no 'thank you' aimed my way.

"What are we doing?" I yawned.

"At least pretend to maintain the proper decorum," she chided me. She did her best to stifle her yawn.

That was the end of my instructional period until we pulled into a parking spot close to a police station.

"Watch your mouth and remember they don't like us," Desiree warned.

"Woman, is it going to kill you to tell me what's going on, or am I going to have to figure this out with a Tarot deck?" I snapped back.

Her eyes narrowed with anger as she turned on me.

"Can't you follow a simple order?" she growled.

"Sure," I sighed. "It isn't like you want me to succeed anyway," I groused. She huffed in exasperation then led me to the front of the precinct building.

Due to the hour, the place was crowded with drunks, drug addicts and dealers, with a sprinkling of prostitutes and violent felons. The 'they' who didn't like us became obvious. The cops didn't like Desiree and, by default, me.

"We are here for Marilynn St. John," Desiree stated.

"Of course you are, Ms. Frederickson," the female desk sergeant sneered. "It is Lady's Night at some whore-hole so, of course, your princess ended up here."

"Just get her," Desiree demanded. The sergeant kept sneering in a way that told us we were going to be a while. Desiree walked over to a corner and put her back to it.

I decided to hover close by until the sergeant had a moment.

"What do you want?" she regarded me. "Aren't you with the trash collector?" I guess that meant Desiree.

"She's one of my bosses," I shrugged. "This is my first – I guess now it is my second day on the job and I have no idea why I am here."

I put my politest, most girl-friendly demeanor forward. It worked.

"Keep in mind you are picking up your boss's trash, Kid," she turned all matronly on me. "You need to stop hanging around all those poisonous bitches and get a better job." That led to a discussion of my age, background and economic status of my family.

She liked the fact that I was proud of my blue-collar background, single and polite. As an unexpected bonus the Sergeant had a single daughter; a freshly minted from the Police Academy policewoman. I gave her my mobile number and she sent someone to retrieve our charges. While we waited, she showed me a picture of her girl. The daughter was rather sexy.

I told her mother that her daughter had a bright smile and a cute nose. Saying 'your pride and joy would look good handcuffed to my bed' wouldn't win me points. As the desk sergeant and I finished, out walked two wasted teen fashion queens with a female police escort.

"Sign for the over-privileged skanks," the Sergeant directed me.

Desiree pushed me aside and took custody of Marilynn and her high society pal, Vienna Rothmore. The two young ladies joined us as we left the station.

"Sorry to mess up your date, Desiree," Marilynn snickered. Yeah...right, she was soooo sorry.

"He's not my date," Desiree ground out. "He's one of our new hires."

"Oh, cool," Marilynn slurred. She reached up from the back seat and put a hand on my shoulder. "I want you to come home with me and help me test my sheets to make sure they are comfortable," she giggled. "I have delicate skin."

"You also have a problem with substance abuse, taking things that don't belong to you, and a lifetime of making poor choices," I countered. "Sorry; I have to decline."

"You work for my grandmother. That means you work for me," she protested.

"I'm sure if you have your wonderful grandmother put your request in my work cue, I'll get around to it," I smiled.

"You're no fun," Marilynn complained.

"He's not here to be fun for you, Marilynn," Desiree finally intervened.

"Oh, pooh," Marilynn snickered. "What's your name?"

"I'm Clone 117. The corporation grew me in a vat in a secret lab in Nebraska," I stated evenly.

"Really?" Marilynn's friend, Vienna gasped. She was way too stoned/drunk.

"Yes. Now that I've revealed this company secret they are going to have to melt me down to my base proteins and recreate me. Such is the life of a clone," I groaned.

"No way," Vienna gasped.

"He's playing with us," Marilynn clued in. "What is your name – really?"

"Cáel Nyilas," I answered.

"Cool name," Vienna declared. "Does it have a meaning?"

"Cáel is from my Mother – it's Irish for 'slender' as well as the angel for Thursday," I informed her. "Nyilas is Hungarian – it means Archer."

"Are there any rich Hungarians?" Marilynn asked.

"Ummm...Calvin Klein, Steven Ferencz Udvar-Házy, and George Soros to name a few," I told them.

They were dumbstruck. We are Hungarians. It isn't like there are tons of us.

"If it is any consolation, I'm not related to any of them," I added.

"Aaahhh...do you have a fascination with rich people?" Marilynn struggled back.

"Well, you have to admit it is tons easier than being fascinated with all those poor people," I turned and grinned at her.

"What university did they recruit you from?" Marilynn giggled. "You are fun."

"Ms. Fredrickson found me walking out of a GQ party two weeks ago," I grinned. "The matter of my education never came up."

"Lying on your application, during the interview process, and during, or about an assignment is grounds for termination," Desiree reminded me.

"They don't work for the company," I countered, "nor am I working on any sort of relationship with them. Are you ordering me to be totally truthful while on the clock?"

"She is a client, so she gets the truth," Desiree demanded.

"Cool. I will gladly put this conversation down on my report to Ms. Love – Katrina when filing the sexual harassment suit against Ms. Marilynn St. John," I gleefully stated.

"That is even less funny," Desiree grumbled.

"As I recall she said, 'I want you to come home with me and help me test my sheets to make sure they are comfortable,' Desiree. I'm pretty sure that qualifies," I glared at her.

"She's not an employee," Desiree countered.

"I chose to ignore the idiocy of that statement, because we both know that we are on the job, working the cue. Thus, she is responsible to our corporation for her words and actions. Marilynn is vulnerable to a suit by Havenstone for her conduct toward one of their employees," I outlined.

"Wait, you aren't launching a complaint; you want the company to do so on your behalf?" Desiree stared at me in surprise.

"Of course," I nodded. "What else would I do?" What was left unspoken was that I could try to sue the corporation for this whole fiasco. I wasn't going down that road.

"Ha," Marilynn laughed "like Grans would sue me."

"You are right," Desiree spoke to Marilynn even as her eyes returned to the road. "She'll simply get a report on this assignment as well as a notification of Cáel's complaint." Marilynn and Vienna giggled at the absurdity of the gesture. They didn't get that I did get it. My complaint was going nowhere officially. I was drawing a battle line. I wasn't going to get pushed around.

We dropped Marilynn off. Desiree took her inside, put her to bed, then we did the same to Vienna at her place. That chore accomplished, we headed back to work. Desiree promptly abandoned me, so I went up to Katrina's office, switched back to my biker clothes and crashed out on the short bench in the bathroom. My alarm was set for 6:45 a.m.

I was half-dressed after the alarm woke me when the door opened and Katrina looked in. I froze.

"What are you doing?" she let her eyes roam over my mostly naked form.

"I had a call at three this morning. By the time I finished, heading home made no sense. I grabbed an hour of sleep on your bench," I said.

"Why are you dressing in my bathroom?" Katrina mused.

"I didn't want to sleep in my work suit, Katrina. I changed to my bike clothes to sleep in and when I woke up a minute or so ago, I was started to change back," I explained.

"Very well," she nodded. "Finish up." She didn't look like she was leaving.

I didn't rush getting dressed. Looking good was something I had to emphasize since that was what they were looking at in judging my ability to fit in. So I hoped anyway. I had to turn sideways to get past Katrina. In the office itself, four of the female new hires had already gathered: Daphne, Paula, Dora and Tigger.

They were surprised to see me, early and coming from Katrina's private lavatory, followed closely by Katrina. I stood by my little desk because the others were forced to stand by circumstance and I was playing at solidarity. Fabiola and Violet barely made it in before seven.

"Yesterday went well," Katrina started the meeting. "Most of you received very positive reviews, completed tasks ahead of schedule and exhibited team-building skills."

"Cáel, unfortunately, you appear to have difficulties adapting to our corporate culture and repeatedly had to have tasks defined for you. I appreciate you having some difficulties with this environment. I would hope you will take yesterday's lessons and apply them to your future endeavors with us," she continued.

"Finally, you filed a complaint against one of our clients. I've reviewed it and found your complaint without merit. I will allow you to withdraw that complaint before it becomes part of your official record," she finished. The other newbies seemed curious about this tidbit.

"Of course, Ma'am," I nodded.

"Katrina," she corrected.

"Yes Ma'am, Katrina," I bantered right back.

"Katrina will do," her gaze challenged me.

"You make the rules," I glared right back.

"It is part of the corporate culture you are having problems with, Cáel," she stressed. I nodded and smiled. "Don't you agree, Cáel?" she pressed the point.

"I apologize, but Desiree told me not to lie on, or about, an assignment. Do you want me to lie and say I agree with what's going on here, or do you want me to ask why my trainer was rolling around on the bed, her shirt half open, exposing her bra to me?" I stared.

"Do we need to get into Fabiola sneaking up to the door and proving that she'll never make Broadway as she attempted to act surprised? I didn't bring this up earlier because I assumed this WAS your corporate culture," I smiled.

"If this bothers you, I will accept your request for reassignment," Katrina grinned.

"Why would I want to leave? This place is a laugh riot," I chuckled. "I swear, all of you ladies have been working overtime to make this job as enjoyable as hell. With all the efforts made to make me feel welcome, bailing would be the height of ingratitude."

"Are you attempting to be amusing?" Katrina smirked.

"I am attempting to be as honest and genuine about my desire to stay as you are in your desire to keep me on," I kept going. Her smirk turned into a grin.

"Cáel, I see your retention in my department to be a personal challenge," she replied.

"Thank you," I nodded. "I find your personal attention to be inspirational."

My translation? She was trying to get me to jump ship, or do something that would get me shuffled to some office even worse than this one. My polite response, more bravado than common sense, was 'bring it bitch'. It was of no comfort that it wasn't personal – they were going to axe all us men. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been making so many assumptions.

"Now that has been taken care of; on to our next order of business," Katrina continued.

"I want all of you to reacquaint yourselves with our sexual liaison policies. Interns are forbidden, for the sake of job review status, from engaging in romantic and/or sexual activity with an employee, or client, of Havenstone Commercial Investments. We had an unfortunate incident last night and had to relocate an intern," she related.

"I would like to think we can avoid that here, ladies," she stated decisively.

"You can count on us," Daphne stepped up. I nodded along with the rest. I was trying to figure out which guy they had nailed. I noticed that only one intern had gotten 'relocated'. For that matter, what did 'relocate' mean? Couldn't they just say 'fired'?

We got our assignments and off we went. I had Buffy again.

"How did your date with the mime go?" Violet teased me.

"It turned out we had nothing to talk about," I grinned.

"You should have gone out with us," Daphne pressed in from my other side. "We met several cute guys." Ah, the old 'prove you aren't gay' thing again.

"Were they really handsome, hard and buff?" I stared hungrily into Daphne's eyes. That caught her off guard for a second.

"Very," she licked her lips.

"Oh," I sighed. "I'm not into guys but if I was, it would be old, fat, bald men – the rounder the better."

"You are a real joker," Violet mused.

"I prefer to think of myself as a guy who panders to the most pathetic moral characters he's confronted with," I smirked as I glided past them to Buffy's desk. Buffy looked to me then past me to the two new hires who beamed hate at my back.

"Is there something I need to be made aware of?" Buffy questioned me.

"Children shouldn't play with matches, run with scissors, or verbally spar with someone who knows that the Vampire Diaries is not the best our culture can do," I informed her.

"New hires in the same department are encouraged to create relationships that will last them for as long as they are with Havenstone," Buffy stated.

"That was in the Handbook, wasn't it?" I tried to recall.

"It is not only a good idea, it is corporate policy," Buffy said as she stood. "Let's get to work."

I followed along. This was my job though being given advance notice about what I was supposed to be doing would have been nice.

"Today we are caretaking a meeting," Buffy told me after we had taken the elevator to one of the top floors. "That means we pay attention to the top brass," she downloaded some faces for me to memorize, "figure out what they want before they do and interface with the caterers when they arrive so no non-corporate employee is ever near our top tier."

"Why isn't this a teleconference?" I inquired. Buffy gave me a condescending look.

"Do you always assume you know more than everyone else," she mused.

"I think that if I don't know, I should ask, if I'm given a mentor, I should utilized their experience, and the best way to fail is to pretend you know what you don't," I related.

"I'll tell you what you need to know," Buffy informed me.

"Par for the course, Buffy," I grinned mindlessly. She shot me a confused look. Checking out the room was more important to Buffy than satisfying her curiosity. We finished our checklist right before the first participant arrived.

I worried how we were going to meet their needs while out of the room. It wasn't like they would want some schmuck like me listening to truly critical information. Buffy and I remained in the room, so I assumed they'd be talking about their vacation experiences. As the late-forties/early fifties looking women walked in, they all flashed me looks.

The looks varied from A to B; sublime hostility and contempt, to outright sexual desire. I made a mental note to thank Buffy before I nipple-twisted her into cardiac arrest. I was also gifted with the same looks from the young women that followed the major players around. A few things filtered through my perceptions.

The various women were talking to one another, mostly in English but with a few other languages bantered about. The collective artifacts around the room were genuine. I knew this because my first lover taught Archeology at Bolingbrook. I never signed up for any of her courses because that might have cost her professorship.