A Life Changing First Day

My legs were on fire. Not literally of course, but the burn in my muscles was a pain I haven’t felt since my days on the Varsity track team. Everyone always tells you to watch out for those ‘freshman fifteen’, the extra love that finds its way to your hips and thighs in your first year as an independent college student. What they fail to mention is it’s not just poor eating but without those mandatory P.E. courses you turn into something of a couch potato. Between the studying and the lectures you are on your behind, alot. Now, fast forward four years, you’ve spent the last chunk of your life cramming for a degree that will hopefully land you your dream job only to realize that you can’t even remember the last time you got your heart rate above one-hundred beats per minute.

Okay, maybe that last part is a little more specific to me. Had my car started this morning I wouldn’t have been forced to face the obvious lack of exercise I have done recently. But as I peddle my way to my first day at my dream job, my dad’s rusty old bike squeaking in unison with my gasps for air, I can’t help but mentally kick myself. Not that I could have known this was going to happen but my heart is about to burst from my chest and boy do I need to get back into a regular workout routine. As long as this bike to work doesn’t send me into cardiac arrest first.

I am on the home stretch, just around the corner is the entrance to the esteemed New York Times building. I give control of the bike to my right hand as I check my watch to see just how late I really am when I find myself running into a rather large man. Literally, I ran him down with my bike, I went flying over the handlebars and thankfully had the good sense to stick my hands out to avoid face to cement contact. However, as the palms of my hands hit the ground I heard the entire rice crispy advertisement sound from my wrist followed by searing pain that shot up my forearm. A low groan escaped the man’s lips as he shifted beneath me. Embarrassment heated my cheeks as snapped back to reality and shuffled off the stranger.

“Crap, are you okay?” I asked, clutching my left arm to my chest.

He chuckled slightly as he pushed up onto his elbows, “Great way to start a monday, huh?”

He flicked his wavy blond locks out of his eyes, before lifting himself up. He wiped his hand along his hip before reaching out for mine. He pulled me to a standing position, the force of the action made me stumble slightly but I quickly recovered.

“I guess that snap, crackle, pop came from you considering I don’t feel much pain and you’re clingin’ to that wrist like it may fall off if you shift it any.” He has a slight drawl to his voice.

Before I can say anything he’s reaching down and scooping my belongings back into my leather satchel and hoisting my dad’s tattered old bike off the ground. It looks like our little accident knocked the chain loose, “great” I muttered as I looked around for any other damage to the bike. Without a word he helped me get it over to a nearby bike rack and locked it up.

“You should really get that wrist looked at y’know.” He nodded to my chest as he shoved his hands in his front pockets.

“Yes, well, It’s still attached so it can probably wait till the end of the day,” -I slowly began backing away- “I am so sorry I ran you down but I am unbelievably late to my very first day, so I have to go. My name is Allison Cartwright, if you decide you want to sue or something. Again, I am so so sorry, and thank you for locking it up for me.”

And with that I turned and sprinted toward the prestigious building. As the numbers in the elevator slowly approached twenty five the bile in the back of my throat climbed with it. Anxiety clawed at my chest as the fear of being chewed out by my boss, Director of Social Media Ms. Evalynn Barnett, for being the lowly intern that had the gall to show up forty five minutes late on her very first day, was becoming a very real and very near possibility.

The elevator dinged, pulling me out of my panicked state. As I stepped out to accept my fate I gulped down the fear and set out to find Ms. Barnett. She came out of her office, behind her followed by two other interns both with the same deer in the headlights look I’m sure I had on my face. I swiftly made my way over and readied myself for the lashing that was sure to come.

“Tardiness will not be accepted Ms. Cartwright.” She said as I brought up the rear, she didn’t even glance my way.

“It won't happen again Ms. Barnett.”

With a sudden stop she twirled around, “These are your desks.” - She gestured to four empty cubicles clustered together - “I have a meeting I need to be getting to but word just came out that Grant Hall is doing another Twenty Thousand dollar give away and you three will be scouring the socials waiting for the lucky winner to emerge, understood?” She gave us all a pressing look over the rim of her thick pink glasses. We each nodded and with that she was off to her meeting.

“Another twenty thousand dollar give away?” I broke the silence.

My efforts were futile because they both just shrugged me off, not that I blame them. Chances are only one of us will get offered a job here, in their eyes I am the competition. So we spent hours in silence working away, I’m sure I heard snoring coming from one or both of the other cubicles at one point and the throbbing pain in my wrist made the long day feel even longer. But finally five o’clock rolled around and Ms. Barnett appeared seemingly out of nowhere to say we could head out for the day.

“Just because you are no longer on the clock doesn’t mean you shouldn’t remain vigilant, I want to be the first one to get an exclusive interview. Don’t let me down.” And with that she shut her office door.

After enduring the evening shuffle out of the rather large building I made my way over to my bike, sitting on the seat was a small notebook with a little white bow attached to it. I flipped it open and the first page had a note:

Allison Cartwright,

I still haven’t decided if I am going to sue you, my back is a little twinged from our unfortunate meetin this mornin but I think i’ll survive. I did notice the contents of your bag didn’t include a notebook and no journalist worth a damn is caught dead without one so I am throwin you a bone. As long as they let you keep your job anyway.

-G.H.

P.S. Get your wrist looked at. I’m sure it’s hurting something fierce by now.

Deciding to take the advice from the mystery man from this morning I flagged down a taxi and went to the nearest urgent care. Since my dad lost his job last year neither of us have had health insurance so our policy is if you aren’t dying you aren’t going to the doctor. He does day labor to pay his bills but I know he’s glad to have me home to take some of the financial load off. Even if I’m only bringing in an interns salary.

While I was waiting for the doctor to come in the stress of how I was going to pay for all of this was getting to me so I decided to look around and see if anyone got the twenty thousand dollars Country Music star Grant Hall was giving away. I decided to look into the last few winners to see if there was some kind of pattern. The only thing I came up with was that every single one came with a note, signed by G.H.

Holy Crap

G.H.

Grant Hall.

I fumbled through my bag with my one good hand looking for the little black book. I laid it across my lap and began to fumble through the pages when a little piece of paper fluttered to the floor. For the second time today my heartrate hammered in my chest as I slowly slid off the crinkly paper to pick up the small parchment. On the other side: Pay to the order of Allison Cartwright ; Twenty Thousand Dollars 00/00.