I want to make things normal with HarryPotter. I don’t know why, but I do. I want things to go back to the way they were. HarryPotter as a best friend, and maybe Goatee as a boyfriend. I wasn’t sure about the Goatee part, but I’m certain that I want HarryPotter as my friend. And, last night proved that it’s time for action.
I woke up at a normal time, no more early starts in order to ignore the flatmate. I crossed HarryPotter in the hallway, and asked for a ride to work. The drive to the office was a bit weird. I wanted to broach Goatee being in the flat last night, but it wasn’t really a car conversation. By the time we got settled and on the road, we were nearly at work, and the conversation would have probably gone on a while, which would mean we’d be sitting in the car talking. Not the way I want to start my day.
Work had both its ups and downs. Goatee came striding into the office, looking sharp and with a big smile on his face. He tapped on my desk, and I tapped back. It felt nice. Sometimes, it’s the little things that just make life wonderful.
Just before quitting time, Goatee asked if I wanted to go to dinner tonight. Well, he didn’t ask. He just said, ‘Pick you up at eight for dinner?’ I did something I’d never been able to do before, I said ‘no’. Actually, what I said was, ‘Remember. I need some time. Too soon.’
To which he answered, ‘I’ve got all the time in the world.’ God, he’s smooth cheese.
Also, today, I finally finished the edits on a manuscript I was given weeks ago. The changes have been approved by the author and by Boobs. Now, it’s off to the copyeditor, then to HarryPotter for design. I’m really proud of myself with this title. I think I’ve done an excellent job, and it was nice to finally do some proper publishing.
That’s obviously the up, but there were two downs. Today, I asked Boobs if I could count on her as a reference. Goatee and I may be getting on, but I don’t think he’s the best person to ask. Of course, I’d rather give myself paper cuts than ask NFEditor, so that leaves Boobs. I thought that since I’d done so well on this manuscript, she’d at least give me an obligatory ‘[EMPLOYEE] worked at MNM from [X date] to [X date]’ reference.
Well, I was wrong.
She said that she’s not comfortable giving me a reference just yet, because she’s waiting to hear the Home Office’s audit report. Since I was so involved with the accounts over the last six months, Boobs wants to make sure that ‘You have done your job properly, and you are worth a reference. I’ll make that decision before you leave.’
What the fuck! If I’ve worked here for free, for six months, without so much as a reference, I’m going to go mental. I’ll make TheMentalist look like a member of the Salvation Army. If I don’t get a reference I will go off. In fact, if she doesn’t give me a glowing ‘this is not only the best intern we’ve ever hired, but she is one of the most outstanding individuals I’ve ever met’ reference, you can bet that I WILL sue for back wages.
To top it all off, about a month ago a publisher and an agent said to get back in touch regarding a job, so I sent them a little reminder email. The publisher got back in touch today. Here’s the short but sweet response:
Dear [Intern who wasted a day updating her CV for nothing],
We regret to inform you that your application to [Publishing company here] has not been successful. Your paper work will be kept on file in case anything arises.
[Stupid Human Resources Manager]
What’s weird about this response is that I didn’t actually apply for a specific job. I enquired to a specific editor about any vacancies coming up, and the editor said to contact him again. Which I did. I didn’t fill out an application, or even request a certain position. I sent a query email and a follow-up email. That’s it. Do all publishing companies have their heads up their arses?
I hate looking for jobs. It’s so demoralising.
Speaking of demoralising, when we got back to the flat after work, I told HarryPotter that we finally needed to have a discussion. Sitting at the kitchen table I said, ‘Goatee came around last night to talk. Nothing else. In fact, he kind of just showed up.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ he replied.
He was being cold, but I pushed on, ‘And I want to say thanks for telling Goatee the truth.’
He just shrugged and said, ‘No bother.’ Then he said something that got to me, ‘I had no right to tell Goatee that we were together. But, tell me the truth. Deep down in your heart, were you happy with him?’
I shrugged and said, ‘Yes.’
He then said, ‘So if Orlando Bloom…’ I cut him off with a laugh, but he ignored me and continued, ‘Or whoever girls find attractive. I don’t know. Someone irresistible. If say an ex-boyfriend came back into your life. Someone you’d been over the moon for. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have thought about cheating on [Goatee]. We’re not all perfect. Not him. Not me. Not you. You can talk to him all you want. He deserves that much.’
He stood up to leave the kitchen, but before he walked away he said, ‘But just because he deserves to tell his side of the story, it doesn’t mean he’s any less of a low life scum bag.’
He grabbed his coat and left the flat. I have no idea where he went, and now I’m thinking I should have gone to dinner with Goatee. Maybe it’s not too late, perhaps I should call Goatee. Perhaps, I should have stayed in my room eating digestives. Now my head is even more fucked up than before This is what comes from being upfront and having a ‘talk’. Give me good old fashion repression any day.
…13 days to go.