Chapter 6
6
Ginny has been in the CEO’s office exactly once. When he was first hired, he held one-on-ones with every member of the staff. The room was large enough that the giant oak desk with craftmanship Ginny admired barely took up a third of it. Four plush armchairs looked out of place around a low coffee table, until the CEO explained they were about making the space inviting instead of intimidating.
Ginny’s immediate supervisor Karl’s office, on the other hand, is too nondescript to be either. The furniture is standard-issue, manufactured en masse, all various shades of gray. The chair Ginny sits in across from his desk has metal arms she’d think were torture devices for fat people, except she’s sure whoever made it doesn’t bother to spare fat folks like her a second thought. Probably not even a first thought.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Holtz?”
Karl claims calling people by their last names establishes a professional atmosphere while also showing respect, but in two years of Ginny working here, he’s never once used a gender-neutral honorific. It’s not even that Ginny has a problem with Ms. They don’t identify with gender itself, so much as with loving women in a gay way. They/them pronouns mean no one can accuse them of being straight, but Ginny uses she/her, too, especially with other queers. When you use multiple pronouns, you notice the people who only use the one that doesn’t make them think beyond the binary. Karl is one of those people who takes the fact that Ginny doesn’t mind gendered terms as an excuse to ignore their identity.
The lack of respect is mutual.
But Ginny knows how to play nice when necessary.
“My best friend’s engagement fell apart this weekend,” they say, intentionally making it seem sad instead of like a good thing. “The wedding was supposed to be next weekend.”
“Oh, how terrible.” Karl’s hand is on the computer mouse, his eyes on the monitor.
“I know, right? It’s such a mess,” Ginny says. They would prefer to avoid all the bullshit and just say they need time off, but, you know, capitalism. And white men’s egos. “I know it’s short notice, but the honeymoon is nonrefundable, and she’s asked me to go with her. I really want to be there to support my friend. Would it be possible to get next week off?”
They have the time available; they don’t take vacation as often as they should.
Karl doesn’t even look at her. “How am I supposed to get someone to fill in next week?”
“I don’t have any time-sensitive projects right now,” Ginny says. “Just the regular stuff. I’ll work to get ahead this week and catch up the week I get back. It’d just be a blip.”
Karl’s lips move as he reads an email instead of responding.
“Again, the trip is nonrefundable. The tickets are already bought.”
“It was supposed to be a honeymoon, right? So, they weren’t bought for you. She can take someone else.”
Last night, Derrick asked for their birthday and full government name, no other context. When Elsie explained, Ginny told Derrick to go ahead and switch the tickets, rather than wait to ensure she could get the time off. Elsie is not taking anyone else. And Ginny is not taking no for an answer.
“Look, I just can’t justify forcing people to pick up your slack so you can go on a surprise vacation,” Karl says. “We’re a family here, and we work together.”
Ginny tunes out as Karl goes into his usual spiel. Once he gets going about the company being a family, there’s no reason to pay attention.
Ginny’s actual family has never stopped her from going on vacation. Even when they were a kid, their parents gave them more freedom than this job ever has. Eighties parenting, her mom used to call it, even though it was a new millennium. For Elsie, it was more we have five kids parenting. The two of them could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t get into too much trouble. Meanwhile, this company’s dress code is still gendered. Ginny’s haircut is supposedly only allowed for men, their nose piercing only allowed for women.
Karl concludes his lecture with “I’m sure you understand.”
“Okay, Karl.” Ginny never calls him Mr. Schwartz. “Consider this my week’s notice, then. Sorry I can’t make it two—I’ve got a trip. I’m sure you understand.”
He finally looks away from the computer. “What?”
Adrenaline courses through Ginny’s veins.
“I quit.”
The words sound amazing.
“You’re quitting because I won’t give you time off for this trip that isn’t even yours to begin with?”
Ginny could take it back. They could say they weren’t thinking, or that it was a joke maybe—that would save them some dignity at least. But they don’t.
They don’t take it back, and they don’t explain that it’s about more than this moment. They’re not quitting because Karl won’t give them time off; they’re quitting because they hate this job. They hate the sea of cubicles. It’s meaningless website design. Ginny is only here because it’s the first place that interviewed her after graduation. She never wanted this particular job, she only wanted to get paid.
Ginny doesn’t explain any of that to Karl, though. They don’t have to explain themself at all anymore. They bite back the grin that tries to take over their face.
“I’ll reach out to HR this week and see what end-of-employment procedures I need to do before—”
“No,” Karl says. “Go to your desk and clear it now.”
He’s back to looking at the computer, clicking the mouse aggressively, but Ginny would bet he’s not actually reading any thing on the screen. His brows, slanted and angry, make him look like a cartoon villain.
“Are you firing me?”
“I’m not firing you, you quit,” he snaps. “We don’t need a week’s notice. Leave now. I don’t want to see you again.”
Ginny chuckles. Now that they don’t have to work for him, Karl’s petulance is amusing rather than frustrating. She considers mentioning that if this is how he treats family, it’s no wonder he can’t hold down a girlfriend, but honestly, he’s not worth the parting shot.
The box in the passenger seat of Ginny’s truck is mostly filled with the contents of their snack drawer. Nestled among the granola bars and individual-serving bags of Cheez-Its is Ginny’s favorite picture of them and Elsie, a shot from Ginny’s birthday a few years ago. They were supposed to spend the weekend in Chicago, but they got a flat tire and had to stay in bumfuck nowhere. Elsie’s laughing so hard you can see all her teeth, her eyes scrunched closed and Ginny’s head turned away as they try to hide their own laughter. It’s how Elsie always makes Ginny feel—even when things are going wrong, they’re really fucking good.
It’s not even 10 A.M. by the time Ginny gets home. Bonnie’s whole body wags along with her tail at the surprise return.
“That’s a good girl,” Ginny says, crouching to give Bonnie the chest scritches that are her favorite. “What do you say we go to the dog park?”
The magic words are too thrilling for Bonnie to stay still—she bounds to the door and back, starts herding Ginny in that direction.
In the negative two wind chill, four other brave souls are at the park with their dogs. Ginny doesn’t even mind the cold. They’re still running on adrenaline.
They quit their job.
They quit their job.
It’s exhilarating, even if they have no clue what they’re going to do now. They can survive without income for a few months, maybe half the year. Ginny’s grandpa spent thirty years as a financial advisor; he instilled the importance of an emergency fund in them from a young age. Beyond that, though, who knows? Surely they can get some other worthless pencil-pushing job, but the idea is too much of a damper on their mood to think about. Instead, they watch Bonnie befriend a Husky midmorning, no responsibilities but lunch with Elsie and a bathroom vanity to finish up for a client—neither of which actually count as responsibilities, because Ginny loves doing them. Things are good.
Ginny idles at the back entrance of Hoffman Hardware at noon. Elsie bursts through the employees-only door before they have a moment to text that they’ve arrived. Her breath billows around her as she hustles to the passenger side.
“It’s freezing, ” she says as she gets in.
She reaches to adjust the vents to aim at her, but Ginny has already done that. Elsie tugs off her wool mittens and holds her fingers in front of the warm air. Her messy blonde braids hang out from her bright red beanie.
“I’m going to kill my parents,” she says. “I swear my mom teared up talking about me not marrying Derrick.”
“Where to today?”
“Uncle Cheetah’s,” Elsie says. “I need soup.”
“Good call.” Ginny shifts into drive.
Elsie keeps complaining. “They’re acting like they’ve lost a son—like they don’t already have two of their own, plus Matthew.”
“Matthew is the best of the lot,” Ginny says about Elsie’s brother-in-law. “No offense to your own bloodline.”
“Obviously he’s the best of the lot, but that’s my point. Like, let’s be honest, they’re all smarter than Derrick.”
Ginny’s eyes cut to Elsie. Less than a day since the engagement ended and already she’s okay saying negative things about him.
“I mean, Derrick is great,” Elsie amends. “But you have to recognize it’s not super smart to plan our entire wedding without asking me.”
“There is that.”
“They just kept bringing up Derrick, asking so many questions. What are we going to do now? Where am I going to live? And I don’t know yet, okay?” She blows on her hands, puts them back in front of the vents. “We broke up, yeah, but it’s barely been twenty-four hours. Could you give me, like, a day to process? I swear I had barely finished checking out a customer and my mom was asking me about canceling the caterer. My parents give us shit for doing personal stuff at work but when they want to, suddenly it’s fine.” She turns fully sideways in the passenger seat to look at Ginny. “Wait, did you get the time off for the trip? Can you come with me? Please say yes.”
Elsie had texted to ask the same thing this morning, but Ginny hadn’t answered.
Telling Elsie that they quit their job would lead to questions they’re not ready for. It’s the same as Elsie not wanting to talk to her parents about Derrick—Ginny doesn’t know anything yet. They need a little time to process.
Plus, Elsie’s engagement just ended. Ginny wants to support her, not burden her with their own issues.
“Yeah,” they answer. “I can come with.”
It’s not lying.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Elsie says. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you couldn’t.”
“I don’t think it’d be hard to find someone else who wants a free all-inclusive vacation to the Caribbean.”
“Another person I’m willing to spend a week in the same bed with?”
“Admittedly more difficult.”
“But it doesn’t matter because you can co-o-o-ome!” She drags out the last word, happiness obvious and infectious, and Ginny can’t help but grin.