Chapter 5: Unemployment Is Not as Bad as They Make It Seem

The elevator continued to make its slow, silent ascent, oblivious to the fidgeting of its single occupant.

Octavia stared at the reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. She checked, for the hundredth time, that there were no stains on her black slacks or Converse sneakers.

She checked that her white graphic T-shirt was tucked neatly into the high waistband of her pants and that the black and gray striped blazer was sitting evenly across both her shoulders.

She had had her hair redone the previous night, heading down to the apartment below hers, Yolanda Waters’s apartment.

Yolanda was a single mom with three kids whom Octavia often babysat. In return, Yolanda worked her magic on Octavia’s wild Afro.

Her deft, greased fingers flew in and out of the mass of hair on Octavia’s head, turning the mushroom cloud into the neat lines across her scalp. On hearing that Octavia was starting a new job—and exactly who her new employer would be—Yolanda threw aside the celebrity gossip magazine she was reading and pushed Octavia into a chair by her kitchen table.

“Girl, we gon’ make you look good,” Yolanda said, laying out a wide array of combs, hair picks, and bobby pins. Octavia wondered what it was she had been looking like before.

She emerged an hour later with silky, pressed edges and the cornrows on her head plaited down in wavelike, curling patterns around the front of her scalp, but the back combed out into an Afro.

While she admired Yolanda’s handiwork, she felt her old efficient style would have suited her fine. All the same, the reflection staring back at her in the elevator didn’t look too bad.

Still, her hand felt numb around the strap of her book bag, and she softly clacked her upper and lower teeth together to ease her nerves.

The light ~Ding!~ of the elevator as it reached the top floor nearly gave Octavia a heart attack.

She had arrived. Somehow, she managed to put one foot in front of the other and make her way to where she remembered Adelaide’s desk would be.

“Good morning!” she said brightly, stopping in front of Adelaide’s desk.

Adelaide looked up from the folder she was staring down at and then gave Octavia a once-over. She looked as if she were about to make a comment on what she saw but then decided against it.

“In the future, you must be here by seven a.m. sharp,” Adelaide finally said.

Octavia glanced at her watch. 7:15, it read.

“Only fifteen minutes off,” she said, not losing her bright smile.

“Seven a.m. sharp. Mr. Kentworth arrives at seven thirty every morning. He prefers to start everyday hitting the ground running.

“You and I will work closest to him throughout the day; we need to be here well before he arrives,” Adelaide said.

Octavia’s smile faded. “Seven a.m. sharp. Got it.”

Adelaide stood, peering at Octavia with her usual cold glare. “Not a minute later. Mr. Kentworth does not tolerate tardiness.”

“I figured,” Octavia responded.

Adelaide was silent, then she moved out from behind her desk.

“I’ll show you to your office,” she announced, leading Octavia forward. They went back out to the hall and turned left. At the end of the hallway was a set of double doors.

Adelaide led Octavia through the doors that opened up into another office space, but one much different from what they left behind.

The walls were no longer transparent glass panes but a solid gray. The floor was covered in plush carpet, and the atmosphere was quiet.

It opened up into a wide lounge area with a crescent-shaped couch and three armchairs in the right corner nearest to them and a small minibar with a tiny fridge built into the wall next to the seating.

On their left was a stand with various pieces of technology set up on lighted, tiered shelves. Octavia recognized models of the Icarus appliances, computers, and mobile devices.

Farther along the same side of the room, an opening led to another office space that Adelaide pointed Octavia toward.

“There is where you’ll be sitting,” Adelaide said. “This is Mr. Kentworth’s private working area.”

Adelaide pointed to the far end of the space where another set of double doors similar to the ones they had just gone through stood, partitioning the lounging area from another office space.

Adelaide explained, “That is Mr. Kentworth’s office. When you’re not with him, you’ll be expected to work quietly at your desk.”

Octavia looked from the ominous double doors to Mr. Kentworth’s office back to the little space that had been set up for her.

She could see a glass desk with a silver computer monitor and keyboard set on it. Behind the desk was a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with binders, and in one corner was an empty water cooler.

“Seems…cozy,” Octavia remarked.

Adelaide ignored Octavia’s comment and walked into her new office. Octavia noticed a small silver laptop sitting on the desk, which Adelaide picked up and handed to Octavia.

“Take this with you for meetings,” Adelaide said. “All your work must be done on either this laptop or desktop.” She pointed at the two as she mentioned them.

“Using any other device to access your work is strictly forbidden. Mr. Kentworth values his privacy, and there’s simply too much of a risk for letting any bit of his information get out.”

“Sure has a lot of demands,” Octavia remarked, taking the laptop from Adelaide’s hand.

“When you hold a position like my own,” a deep voice said not too far behind them, “the only thing people should expect from you are demands.”

Octavia whirled around to see Mr. Kentworth standing behind them—Armani suit, leather briefcase, and deadly cold stare in place.

Before either of them could so much as greet him, he cut them off, his gaze on Octavia.

“Well, I haven’t got all day. Let’s get to work.”