A Day in The City

Wednesday, October 24

~ 8:30 a.m. ~

You walk down Robert Street with your mocha latte in hand. Taking small sips of it at a time, you vigorously stomp across the wet, puddly street; you know your red stilettos were a bad choice of footwear. You feel crappy walking through puddles in stilettos.

A bright yellow taxi honks restlessly at you. You look up from under the pink umbrella and see that the walking light has the red hand. Darn it!

You lightly jog the rest of the way across the street and stop at the sidewalk with a puff. You're not too fond of this bustling, busy, grumpy city. But nevertheless, you have a good office job and a best friend who cares for you. And your fluffy cat named Tickles. Who doesn't love a fluffy cat named Tickles? Come on.

"Bread, miss?" a man at a storefront says to you. "We have rye, pumpernickel, white, wheat, banana, cranberry orange, blueberry zucchini, pita, brioche, baguette, sourdough, focaccia, naan, ciabatta, sun-dried tomato, panettone, tortilla, flatbread, challah, crouton, cornbread, scone, English muffin, Texas toast, matzo?"

Sheesh! Who knew there were so many kinds of breads! You politely decline and are on your way. Only a few more blocks to Hamill Printing. You wish you had a car or had at least waved a taxi...

The rain starts to pick up. You fasten your raincoat's zipper and pick up your pace. Oh, if only you had known it was going to rain this hard! And to think the weatherman said "A light drizzle, folks."

You stuff your phone in your pocket, not wanting it to get wet.

~ 9:00 a.m. ~

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and finally reach Hamill printing. Stepping inside, you feel the maybe-too-warm blast of air. You hear the distinct stomping of feet and sipping coffee sounds you hear five days a week.

"Top of the morning, to you, Clara!" Mr. Borowski, your boss, greets you. You notice he's wearing a black suit with a green tie. Fancy. You greet him back with a small "Hello," and take long strides to your work cubicle.

Once you arrive at your cubicle, you toss your Louis Vuitton purse from eBay under the desk and set your work bag on the floor.

You open up your work bag and pull out your MacBook.

Logging in, you open up your email and sigh. 493 emails. In one night? You delete and mark most of them as spam, and read the important ones. Some from Miles, Grammarly(you roll your eyes at this email), your mom about Thanksgiving preparations, Betty Crocker, and, of course, Mr. Barowski.

Peggy Muller, your friend and co-worker, comes by to say hi. You two chat for a moment and Peggy walks back to her cubicle, coffee in hand. You make a mental note to get coffee during lunch break.

Once you finish with your emails, you open a new tab and type in youtube.com. You find some relaxing spa music and start listening to it as you fill out some surveys, file a few bills, and finish up your resume; you are trying to get a new job as a photographer for Times magazine; you've been applying for months now. After all, your best friend, Miles, works there as a journalist, and it's been both of your dreams to work for the renowned 5-star magazine company.

You hope you get the job.

~ 11:30 a.m. ~

Lunch eventually comes after what seems like ages of typing. you grab your purse, get up, and decide to go to the soup cafe across the street. Better to walk than to have to pay for a taxi in this expensive city.

The rain has cleared up, and you saunter across the street alongside butling strangers. You be careful and hold your purse tight.

Once you are safe across the street, you open the door to the cafe, and a bell rings in excitement.

"Ah, my best customer," Mrs. Rhoda, the owner, holds out her hands and engulfs you in a warm embrace. She slowly pulls back and asks you what you'd like.

"I'd like the usual. Turkey and swiss on toasted rye and a medium tomato bisque, light on the pepper," you say nonchalantly. "And a small coffee. I'll definitely need it for the work I'm doing."

Rhoda chuckles softly and you look around the quaint cafe; it's pretty plain for a New York City cafe. Nevertheless, it's five-star and you don't know anyone who dislikes it.

You notice a mother and two identical girls at one table. The girls are eating grilled cheeses, and their mother is eating a Caesar salad. You make a mental note to have a chicken salad sandwich for dinner.

"Clara?" Rhoda calls, interrupting your train of thought.

you walk over to Rhoda and take the brown paper bag and sturdy disposable cup, pay Rhoda, and head out the door.

"Thanks, Rhoda!" you beam. Rhoda gives a warm smile and takes the next customer's order.

~ 1:15 p.m. ~

Oh great, you think. More work. Mr. Barowski has just assigned to you the worst job that you hate: organizing your file cabinet. Bills in one drawer, files in another, sign-up sheets in another, and vice versa.

You know it's still a nasty mess, but hey? Who cares? Definitely not you. You just like to procrastinate when it comes to cleaning.

you delete the email and click the inbox button: 2 emails.

One is from Times.

~ 3:45 p.m. ~

You have finally finished the dreaded file cabinet to your satisfaction. Now to read the email from Times. Your hopes are to the extreme level. No despair, baby bear, your mother used to say when you were little. How could this be happening to you? It is a dream come true. You sit there in disbelief, unable to process the news. How wonderful!

The email tells you that you have been accepted and your first day of work will be Tuesday of next week. All you need is a camera and some other things. Perfect, you have a Canon EOS 5D Mark III. Oh, joy!

But first, you will need to tell Miles.

Aaaaaaand... your boss.