but swiftly to urge them toward purchasing as much as possible. Sometimes they just asked for brochures or information via e-mail, and sometimes they already knew what they wanted, and she simply had to key in the order.
The job was slightly too complicated for a monkey, but not quite stimulating enough for the average human being to enjoy.
But the powers that be at Dynalux—including Nelly—liked to convolute the process by sending their employees to sales seminars and then urging them to employ the latest covertly pushy techniques to increase revenue.
Skye was so not into it. But it wasn’t as if she didn’t try. If someone was clearly in need of a router, she’d make sure they got the right one. If, however, they were a clueless grandma from rural Appalachia, who somehow had gotten the mistaken notion that they needed a Dynalux box to connect to their AOL account, she was not going to talk them into buying anything.
She had a conscience, which possibly disqualified her from ever becoming a wildly successful salesperson.
“I’m fully aware that we’re not dealing with a seller’s market at this time. But when your incoming calls are slow, there are a number of proactive measures you could be taking.”
Right. Follow-up calls. The bane of her slacker salesgirl existence.
“I’m sorry, I’m not doing follow-up calls. If someone needs networking equipment, they’ll call us.”
Nelly’s blood pressure was rising. She could see it in his disturbingly rosy cheeks. “Are you refusing to perform your job?”
“No, I’m just not willing to hassle people in their homes.”
“Let me remind you of your job description, Ms. Ellison.”
“That’s not necessary…sir.” Okay, so being respectful wasn’t one of her strong points.
In her fantasies, this would be where she’d quit. She’d stand up and fling off her headset, which was now dangling around her neck like a high-tech albatross. She’d tell Nelson Rudderman exactly what he could maximize and strategize, and she’d walk out the door. But in her fantasies, she’d be earning enough money from writing to pay the rent and wouldn’t be suffering this shit job.
And that’s why they were called fantasies. She couldn’t afford to lose her job right now. She needed to suck it up and appease old Nelly.
“I’m disappointed in your recent performance, Ms. Ellison. You’ve dropped from being one of our mid-performing sales consultants to hovering in the lowest quarter.”
Uh-oh. “I understand. I’ll work on improving my sales for the next quarter.”
“I don’t think you have the best interests of Dynalux at heart.”
Did the best interests of Dynalux Systems actually lurk in anyone’s heart?
“And I’m afraid the information I was given today is enough for me to terminate your employment here, Ms. Ellison.”
“But—”
“Dynalux can’t afford to pay employees who aren’t interested in doing their best for us.”
“I have done my best here,” Skye said, her voice veering toward high-pitched and squeaky.
“Then I’m sorry to say your best isn’t good enough for Dynalux. You should clear out your desk and vacate the premises immediately.”
Skye blinked. She’d just been fired by Nelson Rudderman? In one fell swoop, he’d wiped away all her glorious fantasies of quitting when she finally got her first big book advance. Her instincts—her stupid, faulty instincts—hadn’t even seen this coming.
This was the point where she should at least insult him, but she couldn’t do it. If Nelly needed to feel important, she didn’t have the heart to take that away from him.
“Are we done here?” she said.
He gave her his gravest look and nodded.
Skye kept her expression neutral on her way back to her cubicle. She’d talk to her friends at the office some other time and explain what had happened, but she absolutely would not give Dottie the satisfaction of knowing so soon that she’d been fired.
But Dottie was hovering near her cubicle when she got there. “What did Mr. Rudderman want?” she asked, her tone verging on gloating.
“He’s investigating some instances of theft at the Friday pizza parties. Apparently some cow’s been stealing entire pizzas and taking them home for dinner.”
Dottie, for once, was speechless. The entire office knew she slipped into the break room every Friday and snuck out with a double sausage pizza all for herself.
“Oh, that’s…odd,” she finally said, then hurried away.
Across the aisle, John stared at her with his signature look of tired amusement. “You’re evil, babe.”
“Are my horns showing again?” she joked, surprised at the sudden tightness in her voice.
She absolutely would not start bawling right now.
“What’s wrong? Does Nelly have the you’re-not-ago-getter stick up his ass again?”
She nodded, but her stupid lower lip started quivering, and she turned away fast.
“Don’t let the bastard get you down,” John said, but before he could see how upset she was getting, he got an incoming call. She could tell because he sat up straight and turned on his business voice. “Thank you for calling Dynalux Systems. My name is John. How may I help you?”
She knew that spiel by heart, even heard it over and over again in her dreams after a long day of work. But now she’d have to learn a new mindless spiel, something like, “Would you like to super-size that value meal today, sir?”
Skye grabbed a Nordstom shopping bag from under her desk and began casually gathering her belongings in it. Good thing she didn’t keep much at her desk—just a few framed photos of herself with some friends, a Far Side calendar, a bowl of Hershey’s Kisses, a battered issue of Vanity Fair and a few books that she officially did not read on company time.
Vacating would be easy. She’d been planning her departure since the day she’d arrived.
Figuring out how to pay the rent next month would not be so easy.
Maybe imminent starvation would help her break through her writer’s block and finally finish The Cinderella Solution. She had to believe that the book had a chance to sell once she got it into the hands of agents and editors. Without a job, she could bump up her usual twenty-pages-per-week goal to something more ambitious. Maybe fifty pages—or seventy-five. That fast a pace would have her finishing the book by the end of the month.
Which still didn’t answer the question of how she’d afford her next meal, but Skye would worry about that later. Right now, she had to harness all her frustration and turn it into the thing that would bring her success in her nonexistent writing career. She had to believe she’d sell her first book and many more after that. Then she’d
