Transfer （n.） – Olivia
TRANSFER (N.):
ANY VOLUNTARY OR INVOLUNTARY ACT THAT DISPOSES OF OR PARTS WITH AN ASSET, PROPERTY, OR LEGAL RIGHT. IT ENCOMPASSES ALL METHODS OF CONVEYING TITLE OR INTEREST, SUCH AS SALES, GIFTS, LEASES, OR THE CREATION OF LIENS.
OLIVIA
Two Weeks Later
“Thank you for choosing Happy Burger!” I held out a bag with my biggest fake smile at the drive-thru window. “Enjoy the light in every bite!”
“Ugh, finally.” The customer snatched her food from me. “You guys shouldn’t call yourself ‘fast food’ anymore. I’ve been waiting for three effin’ minutes.”
“Oh, the horror…” I muttered.
“I don’t see my special smiley cake in here.” She looked at me. “Where the hell is it?”
“You didn’t order a smiley cake.” I glanced at her order onscreen. “Would you like to order one now?”
“I’m a freakin’ golden kingdom member!” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m supposed to get a free one with every order.”
“Ma’am, nothing here is free.” I tried to hold my smile like they’d taught me this week. “We don’t have a loyalty program anymore.”
“Well, you used to!” She scoffed. “And I was a top customer for years, so give me my smiley cake. Now.”
I stared at her.
“What the hell are you looking at, lady?” She leaned closer to the window. “My special smiley cake isn’t in here. It’s in there!”
“Thank you for choosing Happy Burger.” I kept my voice firm. “There are other hungry customers in line behind you, so can you pull forward so I can assist them?”
“No.” She scoffed. “Not until I get my smiley cake. Hurry up and get it so you can worry about everyone else.”
“You’ll have to come inside and talk to the manager about getting that.” I was seconds away from losing my shit. “I can’t give you an eight-dollar cake for free.”
“We’ll see about that!” She rummaged through her purse. “Stay right there until I get out my phone.”
“For what?”
“I’m going to record your rudeness for everyone on social media to see, and then you’ll lose your little job and think twice about talking back or—”
“Fuck you, lady.” I hissed, and she sucked in a breath.
“It’s not my fault you feel entitled to throw a bitch fit about a cake you don’t deserve.” I snatched off my Happy Hat. “And you couldn’t have been that good of a customer—ever—because that loyalty program ended five freakin’ years ago.”
She blinked.
“And you don’t have to worry about shaming me over my ‘little job,’” I said. “Dealing with assholes like you have made it perfectly clear that I need to quit.”
“No, no, no, Miss Spencer!” The manager gasped from behind me. “That is not how we talk to our beloved customers.”
“I know.” I tore off my nametag. “It’s how I talk to entitled cunts, though.”
She gasped. “Apologize to her and me. Right now.”
“I’m sorry I ever started working here,” I said. “I’ll call about my check, and I wish you all the best.”
I stormed out of the restaurant without looking back, without thinking about just how much bill money I was leaving on the table.
When I made it back to my apartment, I stripped out of my uniform and headed to the shower.
The quicker I washed this day away, the quicker I could start looking for another job.
Before I could turn on the water, my phone sounded with an unknown number.
“I’m not coming back and I’m not apologizing,” I answered. “I refuse to be treated like shit by rude customers.”
“Well, I know exactly how that feels, Miss Spencer…” an unfamiliar voice responded. “The customers aren’t always right.”
Oh my god. Who is this?
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.
“Um, I’m not sure.” I cleared my throat. “Who is this?”
“I’m Mara Banks from New York City’s Court System,” she said. “I’m calling to see if you’re still interested in the civil service job you applied for a few weeks ago?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I’ve done four phone interviews, so is this another one?”
“No, this is the offer one.” There was a smile in her voice. “But I’m afraid it comes with a few non-negotiable conditions, and I’ll need an answer right now.”
“What are the conditions?”
“You have to agree to start on Monday.”
“That’s…tomorrow.”
“You also have to sign a binding, six-month promise.”
“A what?”
“A contract that says you will not quit this position for at least six months—no matter what happens and no matter who the boss is.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“You will be required to work at least sixty hours a week and attend any judicial proceedings that your boss deems necessary.”
“Um…Is this for the law clerk position or the legal secretary one?”
“In exchange for accepting these conditions, you’ll get paid seventy-five dollars an hour.”
“Where do I sign the promise?”
The following morning
I smoothed my blouse before walking up the courthouse steps at the crack of dawn.
Just as I’d been instructed, I signed in with security and headed straight for the grand staircase.
“Are you Miss Spencer, by chance?” A pretty brunette in a gray pantsuit smiled as I approached.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Thank you for getting here twenty minutes early,” she said. “The court truly appreciates people who show up on time.”
“Good to know.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, and I was still in disbelief about the hourly pay I’d been promised.
“Here’s your copy of the digital contract.” She handed me a stapled sheet. “Later today, Human Resources will pay you a visit for more paperwork and fingerprinting. Do you have any questions before we head to where you’ll be working?”
“Hundreds…”
“Well…” She tapped her chin. “Save them for later and follow me. Try to pay close attention, okay?”
I nodded, and she hurried off on her heels.
“You’re a law clerk, which means you’ll be responsible for handling all types of errands, and you’ll need to know this building inside and out,” she said. “I highly recommend you take the tourist tour every weekend for your first month here.”
She spoke at the speed of light—pointing out the names of every office, the security exits, the different courtrooms.
It only took me seven minutes to realize that “Do you understand what I’m saying?” wasn’t a question. It just meant we were moving on to the next stop.
I followed her onto an elevator and she hit the button for the top floor.
“The coffee room on this floor is the absolute best, and that’s a good thing because it’s the same floor where you’ll be working.”
“I thought the law clerks’ office was on the third floor.” I glanced at the notes on my phone. “You said that—”
“That’s for the junior level law clerks,” she said. “You’re assigned to work in a judge’s chambers.”
“My contract didn’t say anything about that…” I stepped off once the doors glided open, suddenly feeling like this place looked a little too familiar. “Do I get to choose which judge I work under?”
“You’re funny.” She snorted and motioned for me to keep following her.
We rounded the corner, and the words “The Chambers of the Honorable Judge Ashton” stared me in the face.
No.
No.
NO.
I immediately stopped walking and pinched myself.
“There’s no pain.” I let out a sigh. “This is a dream. Just a dream.”
“Hold my coffee for a second.” Mara held out her cup, and the sting from the sleeve made my eyes widen.
I wasn’t dreaming at all.
“This is where you’ll be assigned,” she said, opening the door. “Allow me to show you to your desk.”
“Actually, uh...” I looked away. “How binding was that promise I just signed?”
“It was written by some of this city’s top lawyers.”
“Can I write an apology note and back away today without any penalty?”
“I will personally see to it that you’re sued for breach of contract and barred from any city government jobs for at least three years.”
“I might be able to survive that…” I stepped back. “They can’t sue me for money I don’t have, right?”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.
Inside, towering ceilings with skylights greeted me, forcing me to slowly scan the colossal space they covered.
The entire left wall was a bookshelf, filled with leather-bound legal books. On the right, a golden frame displayed a moving panorama of Manhattan’s skyline that stretched from one end to the other.
As I gazed at the immaculate desks that were tucked into recessed walls and the framed newspaper headlines and degrees that were on display, the most notable thing wasn’t anything I could see.
It was what I could hear.
Despite the people who were walking around us, there was an intimidating silence here.
I glanced toward the far end of the space. Behind an open door sat a large oak desk with plush red chairs.
My eyes drifted to two small car replicas sitting on the edge of the desk. A McLaren and a Ferrari.
Shit…
“Since you have the highest level of education and journalism experience—” Mara snapped her fingers as we reached a smaller desk. “I made you the top clerk for Judge Ashton. You’re the only one who gets to work directly in his office.”
“Does that ‘breach of contract’ you mentioned come with any prison time?”
She opened a drawer and handed me a thick book.
“I’m just asking a question…” I swallowed. “I was in front of him in court for traffic tickets before, so…”
“Oh!” She laughed, waving her hand. “He doesn’t remember anyone who gets traffic tickets. Trust me.”
“Does he by chance remember—or know—people who may have recently damaged his property?”
“Huh?” She stepped closer. “What did you just say?”
“I said good to know.”
“Take today to read through this guidebook—” She pointed to the book in my hands.
“Judge Ashton will answer any questions you have when he finishes the morning arraignments, and then tomorrow I’ll start walking you through everything.
Do you have any questions before I show the other clerks to their places? ”
“Can I see where they’re going, in case they might want to trade places with me?” I asked. “I mean, book smarts aren’t everything and they might be better off here.”
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” She walked away without another word.
I plopped down in the chair, surprised at how plush it was.
Grabbing the guidebook, I flipped open the first page and made a mental note to get the hell out of here before lunch.
1. Do not undermine my authority.