Labor Pains

By Ruth Corcoran

I had been working on a book for quite some time. Finally, I was determined to complete the process. I sent my manuscript to Page Publishing for review and I was notified that my book was approved for publication. I've been working with my Publication Coordinator, Michael Yarnell. Michael has answered all of my many (many, many) questions and has guided me through the entire process. It's great to know that even though I was not familiar with the steps necessary to get my book out for distribution, Page knew what to do and the end result was a happy ending for my endeavor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781684098828

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Labor

Pains

Ruth Corcoran

Copyright © 2017 Ruth Corcoran

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-68409-881-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68409-882-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

My name is Becky Milner. I’m 5’6" tall, with shoulder-length auburn hair. I’m the first to admit that as I get older, my memory seems to be fading. I can’t remember what I wore to work yesterday, but I can remember the name of my second-grade teacher (Mrs. Johnson, in case you were wondering). I also seem to be able to bring to mind all the mistakes I’ve made in this lifetime. This is turning into a full-time hobby.

Mistake is defined in the dictionary as a wrong action attributable to bad judgement (duh!) or ignorance of inattention. I’ve come to the conclusion that my mistakes are due to my momentary inattention to a situation than to my having an actual choice to make and then choosing unwisely. However, we all know the truth.

Being a science fiction buff, I am fascinated by the notion of time travel. There have been many times I would have loved to transport some annoying individual back to the dark ages. Movies based on the premise of being able to move through time, either to the past or to the future, are fascinating. Most have been unbelievable, but the notion of being able to do this one day gives our imagination a run for the money and the movie industry more storylines and bigger gross profits. What would you or I give to have a little warp drive action while stuck in traffic on a Friday night or share Samantha Stevens’s ability to wiggle your nose and whisk someone to an uninhabited island?

Just think for a moment: if we could take a trip to the future, would we be able to conceivably get the winning lottery numbers for the next Power Ball, use it to buy this week’s ticket, and then become instantly richer when the numbers were announced? On the other hand, if we traveled back in time, would we be able to change the outcome of one of our mistakes and correct a situation in our favor. Then again, if we did either of these, would that become another mistake that would bite us in the butt? Owwww. My head hurts just thinking about this.

Many moons ago, I worked for an accounting firm. I loved the people I worked with, as well as the job and I would have been content to stay there forever except for one small thing: payday was supposed to be every Thursday, like clockwork, but we could never count on this. Sometimes our payday was moved from Thursday to Friday or Friday to Monday, depending on the company’s cash flow. At times, the owner would call in on a Thursday afternoon only to let us know that he wouldn’t make it back to the office to sign and distribute our paychecks. And if you believe this, I have some swamp land you might be interested in buying. Occasionally, one of the workers would have to make a stop at one of our customer’s establishments on the way back from lunch in order to pick up a check in payment of their account. I understood that this did not seem to be a stable situation, so as much as I hated to admit it, it was time to start hitting the want ads.

Have you ever taken a close look at a want ad? Those little four line descriptions that you eventually find out don’t even come close to describing what the actual job entails. But in all fairness, would you apply for a position that boasts Work for the most obnoxious individual we could find, who will expect 150 percent of your time, all your energy and experience. Must be willing to have the life sucked out of you from 9:00 to whenever, Monday through Friday (and sometimes Saturday or maybe a Sunday or two), as well as possess the ability to work independently on your own projects, plus those of the lazy individuals you will be assigned to work for and with. Annual salary increases will be doled out only after management grabs as much as they legally can, promotions are freely offered to those individuals that do not deserve it. Mail or fax your resume so we can have a good laugh at your expense.

And while we’re at it, what’s with the abbreviations? Mfg Dist nds ind 4 hvy dta entry. PT/FT avail. Excel med bnfts for F/T. 55 WPM req. Sal Com w/exp. The first time I saw an ad like this, I made an appointment to have my eyes examined, but I walked out when I saw the eye chart in their office. If they couldn’t make sense out of that chart, why should I entrust them with my eyesight? I’d love to fax back to potential employers my own version of an ad: Looking 4 wrk. Excel Sal a+. Proficnt in braks/daz off. Rthr B collecting unemp bnfts. Call 4 immed hire. How long do you think I should wait for a reply?

So I knew that my friend, Catherine, was leaving her job as an office manager and was going back to a company she had worked for previously that was offering her more money. She had asked me about applying for her job since I wasn’t entirely happy with my current work situation. I told her I would think about it but I wasn’t sure I wanted all the responsibilities that came with the position. I had previously held a position as an office manager, and I didn’t want that much responsibility again, so every time she brought up the subject of her replacement, I tended to change the subject. She noticed. Why do you keep changing the subject and stalling every time I broach the subject of my replacement? she asked. She knew but she played dumb. Well, two can play at this.

I’m not stalling. I’m giving it some serious thought. I looked over at her to see if she was buying that. She wasn’t. She only had another three weeks before she was scheduled to start her new job, and time was running out for finding her replacement.

I knew that her company had been interviewing for her replacement for almost three months now, so either they were being incredibly picky or the applicants were being incredibly psychic. Two days later, she called in the evening, interrupting my viewing of Ghost Hunters.

You haven’t found anything yet, have you? She knew doggone well I hadn’t. No, but I have a few irons in the fire, I lied.

Like what? She was calling my bluff. You didn’t mention anything to me about any possibilities.

Well I didn’t want to mention anything until I had something definite lined up. I lie real good under pressure, huh?

Well, what leads are you following? Damn. She was persistent and wasn’t giving up easily.

I sighed. Okay, okay, I lied. There’s nothing on the horizon, but I know something will come along soon. I caved under the pressure.

She chuckled. Listen. I spoke to our personnel manager today—slight hesitation here—about you. I told her about your qualifications, and she seemed really interested. She wants you to fax her your resume tomorrow so she can look it over.

Look, I said, I really appreciate your intervention on my behalf, but I’ve been an office manager before, and I don’t know if I want to get back into that rat race again with all the responsibilities that go with it. Besides,—I looked away from her—I think my qualifications only look better to everyone at your company the closer we get to your leaving deadline. There! The cards were on the table.

Listen to me for just a moment. You’re good with people, you take shorthand, you’ve transcribed letters and reports from a Dictaphone, you’ve ordered office supplies, paid invoices, handled statistical typing of reports, and you type faster than I do. No matter what you say, I think you’d be great at it. I wouldn’t push this if I thought otherwise. At least while you’re thinking it over, fax your resume over and meet with her. Then you can make an intelligent decision. If you don’t think it’s right for you, just say thank you and go after your other leads. The government could use her in foreign negotiations.

Oh, what the hell, I thought. If I agree with her now, I can get off the phone and get back to Ghost Hunters in time for the Stanley Hotel investigation, one of my favorites. So I agreed to fax my resume the next day, which I did, and an interview with the human resource manager, Denise, was scheduled for two days later. I fully intended to just sit politely and listen to company jibberish and wait for the perfect opportunity to politely turn it down … that is, if it was even offered to me.

I really hate job interviews. They remind me of a beauty pageant (not that I’ve ever been in one or ever will be part of one). As I see it, as soon as you walk into the interviewer’s room, a set of eyes are scrutinizing what you’re wearing. First impression crap! (I always have an interview suit hanging in my closet. Not that I’m paranoid or anything.) If the interviewer is female, one can only hope that your shoes match your pocketbook, that you’re not wearing white shoes before Memorial Day, and that there isn’t a mural of lipstick on your teeth. If a male is sitting in the interviewer’s chair, all bets are off, and you might as well prance through the office with a tiara on your head wearing a Saran Wrap blazer ’cause any other part of your body will be ignored. You sit throughout the entire interview process with a smile plastered on your face like a politician at a child’s birthday party is stealing glances down at your chest because the office is chilly. I think my concept of the interview process was scarred by an interview I once had many years back.

I woke up the day of this interview to fifteen-degree weather and four inches of snow on the ground. Just g-r-e-a-t. I called the company to make sure they were opened for business after the night’s snowfall. They were. Damn. I guess they don’t care what dangers their employees faced trying to get to work after a snowstorm.

I arrived fifteen minutes early for the appointment, pulled into the snow-covered parking lot only to notice that all the dividing lines indicating the parking spaces were covered by snow drifts. The only space left that was big enough to accommodate my car was a spot reserved for someone named J. Maloney. Well, if J. Maloney had his own parking space and was not here because of a little snow, he was probably a salaried manager getting paid very well for his absence, and I wasn’t about to feel guilty about jumping into his space. I wasn’t an employee yet, so what could they do to me? Fire me? Take away my parking privileges?

I got out of the car and very gingerly walked through the parking lot to the entrance, taking extra care not to slip and fall. I didn’t think crawling into the office would look very professional, and suing them after I slipped would probably not be a good career decision either.

I opened the door to the front office and walked inside. At first glance, my reaction was to turn around and walk back to the car. The reception area was smaller than my bathroom and not as clean. To the left was the receptionist manning her station.