Against Policy with the Boss

1. Lina

Lina

I’m so fucking late, I thought.

Dampness spread down the hollow of my spine to the base of my back. I took a deep breath.

I hated first impressions. I hated being in that awkward position of meeting someone for the first time. I hated the overbearing pressure of being memorable. Warm. Likable.

It only takes the human brain seven seconds to assess whether a stranger is likable or not.

In mere seconds, we discern whether the person we just met is agreeable, competent, or even trustworthy.

Based solely on various factors such as vocal inflection, body language, and general attitude.

Or we determine the person to be the opposite: rude, inept, distrustful, and possibly dangerous.

For thousands of years, humans have been built to measure other humans within seconds of meeting through the power of observation.

Once a first impression is solidified, it becomes the basis of our opinion of that person.

It’s often hard to change that first perception—whether good or bad—despite eventual evidence pointing to the contrary.

As I recited those words from an undergrad psych class I took years ago, dread and anxiety flooded the pit of my stomach.

Sweat beaded across my forehead and upper lip as I tried to stay just ten miles over the speed limit, weaving through the midday traffic after rushing to get on the freeway.

But I was failing to keep my emotions under wraps.

I glanced at the time on the dashboard of my car.

11:15 a.m. So much for first impressions.

I was late on my first day at the small, independent pharmacy I was recently hired at.

The anxiety of starting a new job, of having to integrate into a new environment, was so overwhelming that I couldn’t fall asleep last night.

I got maybe a good six hours of sleep; it would’ve been less if my alarm went off on time. Instead, I woke up on my own, barely fifteen minutes ago, in a state of panic.

I was supposed to clock in at 8:45 a.m. Dr. John Tsukamoto, the now-retired pharmacy manager and owner, had intended for me and the pharmacist taking over his duties to open together earlier today.

My intention this morning was to arrive at 8:40 a.m., with a dozen fresh doughnuts in hand for my new team members and make a great first impression.

Now I was two and a half hours late, with absolutely nothing but shame in the form of perspiration dripping down my face. I called the pharmacy with quivering fingers at a stoplight. The phone call rang through my car’s speakers twice before the voice of a woman on the other end answered.

“Hello, this is Sierra Pharmacy. How may I help you?” she asked.

My throat felt irritatingly dry as I tried to tamp down the urge to bite my nails. My apprehension from the unplanned morning was pushing me toward this horrible habit again.

“Hi, this is Lina Lee. I’m the new pharmacist starting today. May I speak with the pharmacy manager for a moment?” I stated.

“Sure,” answered the woman, presumably a pharmacy technician.

I listened to the usual sounds of a busy pharmacy as I waited. There were some murmurs in the background, the clicks of a keyboard, and another technician’s voice as she confirmed a customer’s name.

“Hello?” asked a man’s voice on the other end. “This is the pharmacy manager speaking.”

“H-hi.” My voice cracked. My palms became sweaty, and the steering wheel almost slipped out of my control as I made a turn. “I’m Lina Lee, the new staff pharmacist starting today. I’m so sorry about being late this morning. I—”

“That’s perfectly fine,” he quipped coolly. “Take your time to get here.”

Unsure of how to respond, I replied with a simple, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” His voice was a low and irritated mumble that made my stomach drop. “We hope to see you soon, Dr. Lee.”

I immediately felt the burn of his words.

Although they weren’t sharp by any means, they were icy enough for me to know I messed up.

At least he continued to bid me a polite goodbye before ending the call.

The need to gnaw on my nails surged again.

I glanced at the GPS for my estimated time of arrival: five more minutes.

I scrambled out as soon as I parked my car, desperately shrugging on my white coat. I slammed the car door with so much force that a passerby turned to stare. I ignored her in favor of fumbling with my bag, trying to sling it onto my shoulder, and taking a sip of my much-needed coffee.

My feet pounded the asphalt as I made my way to the small, cozy-looking neighborhood pharmacy.

I forced myself to smile just as I was about to grab the door handle.

I was ready to yank the door open, finally clock in for my first day on this job when someone pushed it open before my hand could even touch the metal curvature.

Everything unraveled in slow motion after that . . .

The door knocking into my hand and leaving a sharp sting behind, the shock creeping up on the patient’s face and his apology, and—the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened—the iced black coffee in my mug spilling.

There was a loud bang when my mug hit the glass and metal door.

Coffee splashed violently all over my white coat, and the jacket and white blouse I was wearing underneath.

I yelped as the cold liquid dripped into my bra.

“Oh, shit! I didn’t see you there. Sorry about that!” shrieked the man, louder than a blowhorn.

Everyone in the pharmacy, the four patients waiting for their prescriptions and the staff in the back, turned to look at us. A blazing heat rose from my chest, straight to my cheeks, as I stood there in a puddle of melting ice and coffee.

“It’s alright. Please don’t worry about it,” I said, as flatly as I could. I blinked, dusted off a melting ice cube from my blouse. “It was my fault.”

A woman with a pin-straight, graying bob rushed out from the back with a stack of paper towels.

“Dr. Lee!” she called out, her voice the same as the one I heard over the phone.

She gestured to a door beside the one she had exited.

“The restroom is over there; please go ahead and freshen up. I’ll clean this up. ”

“No, it’s alright. I can do it,” I insisted.

“Nonsense! You go and take care of yourself.” The tech waved her hand dismissively.

“Thank you.” I gave her a grateful nod. I scurried to the bathroom and avoided any eye contact.

I didn’t let go of the death grip I had on my insulated mug until I was inside.

I placed it on the sink and observed the coffee splashed across the bottom half of my face, my chest, and my clothes. I sighed.

Today was going to be a very long day.

After I successfully cleaned up where the coffee had spilled into my bra, I turned to my blouse.

I dabbed it with wet paper towels, doing everything I could, but half of it was still ruined.

I refused to throw it under the faucet just to get the stain out, especially with no hand dryer in this bathroom.

For me to be wearing a white blouse half wet at work would be wildly inappropriate.

I was already late and had made myself seem unreliable and incompetent. Now this?

Nope.

I took a deep breath. I was ready to head back out when I heard a knock on the bathroom door. “Someone’s in here,” I said.

“Dr. Lee, Jonathan has a shirt you can borrow,” explained the muffled voice of the tech from earlier.

I opened the door, confused. “Jonathan?”

The tech beamed sweetly as she stood there. She glanced at my shirt just once before holding my gaze, offering me the neatly folded powder-blue button-up in her hands. “Our pharmacy manager. He said this should fit you, and that you can return it to him another day.”

I knew I looked like a mess. I didn’t want to admit it when I looked at myself in the mirror earlier, but I did. Unfortunately, everyone who witnessed my coffee-spilling mishap also knew I looked like a disaster. I accepted the shirt with a small thank you and closed the door.

When I finally walked into the back of the pharmacy, the patients waiting earlier were already gone. There were no new patients waiting in line or in the waiting area either. The atmosphere here was clearly slower than in the pharmacy I used to work at, but no less efficient.

The small team, comprised of three technicians, all turned to look at me. Meanwhile, the pharmacy manager was still facing the computer screen in front of him.

“Hi, everyone, I’m Lina Lee. I’ll be the new pharmacist working with you all. I’m so sorry about being late and for causing a scene earlier,” I greeted.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Lee. I’m Grace, the senior pharm tech here,” nodded the woman who had been assisting me since I stormed through the door.

“No need to call me doctor. Just Lina is fine,” I quickly mentioned.

The other two technicians introduced themselves as Carmen and Sheryl. A big, inviting grin stretched across Carmen’s lips as she nodded too, and Sheryl had kind, green eyes. All the pharmacy technicians had the same warm energy. I smiled back, polite but nervous.

They looked like they wanted to say more, but the pharmacy manager finally decided to spare me a glance over his shoulder. Lips pursed. Eyes narrowed.

The stretch of my grin wobbled.

It was Jonathan Lo.

I couldn’t recognize his voice earlier, but I would know his face anywhere.

Even if it had been a decade since I last saw him, the four years we had spent in our high school classes together had ingrained his features in my memories forever.

Those observant, sharp, cat-like eyes; those wide lips that were always twisted into a coy, playful grin . . .

My academic rival from high school was now my manager. Unfortunately, from the way his lips were twitching and seemed ready to snarl, this wasn’t going to be a joyous reunion.