Chapter 5
Scarlett
“I quit.” I say it over and over again to myself on my way into the office.
It’s nearly Christmas break, a little over a year since I made that announcement to my friends.
Last night my offer on the sweetest little five acre farm was accepted.
I am going to do this. If I fail, well then I’ll go down swinging.
All that’s left now is to turn in my month’s notice at the magazine.
To Valerie. The wicked witch of the west. My friends like to say that I’m the confident one in the group.
The one who will stand up for anyone and in a way they’re right.
But there’s something about Valerie that is my kryptonite.
I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s because when I got this job I was so thankful to have it and I loved our old editor like a father figure.
I was used to bending over backwards for Douglas because the feeling was mutual.
It’s so cheesy to say but we used to have a real family environment at work.
Valerie ruined that. I tried to be the way I was with Douglas with her but she just immediately took advantage and eventually led to my burnout.
“Morning!” A voice that is far too cheery for me this morning pipes up as I exit the elevator.
Amber matches my steps from the elevator to the huge glass door to our section of the building.
Inside the office building are lines of cubicles, some decorated for Christmas with garland and strings of lights.
A poor attempt to put some cheer into an office that sucks the joy right out of you.
“I notice you didn’t put a good in front of that morning,” I say as I take a sip of my energy drink.
“Well, you know how it is. I’m trying.” And she is. The thing about Amber is she always tries to be upbeat. The poor thing wakes up every morning, comes to work with a ridiculously cheerful attitude and then by about two o’clock in the afternoon this place has stolen it.
I stop in my tracks realizing that my leaving means that Amber will be alone here.
Well, that’s selfish of me to say, she has other friends and acquaintances at work but we’re the ones that hang out the most. But my offer was already accepted.
Things are already in motion. It’s possible that I could probably back out if I wanted to but did I want to?
“Scarlett!” That screeching voice is the source of my nightmares.
It haunts me just as much when I am awake as when I am asleep.
I turn around slowly and guard myself for the sight of Valerie in front of me.
Her platinum blonde hair is cut in a pixie which makes her already small facial features appear pinched and pained even when she’s smiling, which is rare.
Today, like most days, she’s dressed in a super chic tight black pencil skirt with an equally tight red button up blouse.
Her heels are at least four inch stilettos.
Amber and I decided that she must wear those to defend herself from the devil trying to come bring her back to hell.
“Morning Valerie,” I say. My grip on the thin can in my right hand tightens a little and I hear the metal crinkle under the force.
“Scarlett,” her tone is clipped and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
This is her tone when I, or anyone for that matter, has done something wrong.
Or when she just wants to pin something on me that I wasn’t even aware of.
“Why do I not have a finished version of the Life of a Denverite sitting on my desk?” The look on her face is the same one I’ve seen on countless bratty children who thought they deserved more than they did.
I don’t know if it’s because I know I plan on putting in my notice, or because I have rehearsed a little speech for giving it but for the first time I speak up. “Maybe because I have never heard of that article before,” I suggest.
It’s slight, but she straightens her spine and tilts her head like a dog does when they’re confused.
“I specifically asked you for it last week. I even gave you two extra days to get it done. Really Scarlett, you could be the best journalist here if you were just a bit more organized.” She changes her tone to one that is aggressively sweet as her eyes dart around the room.
A crowd is gathering to watch our showdown.
Now, I won’t go so far as to say I am the best journalist in this building but I will say that I’m up there.
And without a doubt, I’m the most organized person in this building.
Most of the journalists here run around like their hair is on fire.
Their desks sit covered in papers while mine is neatly organized between stories that need more research, some that are in progress and others that are completed.
Even Amber tells me all the time how she aspires to be more like me in that department.
Valerie’s accusation that I’m unorganized is ridiculous.
“You know what Valerie, consider this my notice.” I hear the faintest gasp coming from the crowd behind me. The air feels like it’s been suctioned out of the room. Valerie rears her head back as if I’ve slapped her. And boy, do I wish I had.
“You can’t quit, Scarlett, it’s the holidays.” Valerie stutters.
“And I’m sure there’s some super ultra organized journalist out there looking for a job right now.
And maybe they’ll put up with all your bullshit.
Your constantly changing deadlines, the imaginary conversations you think you have with your reporters, your annoyingly high heels that click clack all over the floor while you stomp around here angry about everything.
Yeah, maybe that new reporter will love being here.
Maybe they’ll love working with you. Although I highly doubt it.
” My hands are shaking as I turn away from Valerie and walk over to my desk.
While I’m usually not one to hold back speaking, I was raised to treat my bosses with respect.
However, somewhere along the lines Valerie stopped deserving it. Maybe she never really did.
I expect her to march her way over to my desk, yell some more about missing assignments, or worst case scenario, tell me my notice wasn’t necessary and send me home right now.
But none of that happens. Valerie gives a little harrumph and stomps her way back to her office, slamming the door once she’s inside.
“Whoa,” Amber says quietly. Her eyebrows disappear underneath her chestnut brown bangs that lay over her forehead.
For the first time since my outburst I think about how I originally wanted this to go.
I had planned on talking to Amber, explaining my situation and letting her know before I quit.
Also, I had planned on giving Valerie my written notice at the end of the day.
You know, professionally. The way I told Valerie I quit isn’t something I’m proud of and yet… and yet, it feels so good.