Are There Vitamins to Fix That?

Are There Vitamins to Fix That?

Emily Riesenberg

 

            I had pictured this afternoon ending in a more celebratory way with my boss and my work friends from VitaSupply. Instead, here I am sitting at a bus stop in downtown Chicago in a gorgeous deep purple pin striped dress suit now ruined, wreaking of milk, and a skip, hop and a jump away from being robbed.

I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Charlie, my boss. I hate everything about him; from his ridiculous bowl cut dishwater blond hair, to his horrible hippy ideals and his stupid beer gut. You’d think someone who worked in a health industry would at least take care of his body, but not Charlie. So apparently yesterday Charlie decided to send me for a sales conference with an upcoming health-care-whatever-store called TNC, NTC, I don’t know, something like that. I’m really not stupid, I promise. I could have done some research on the company if Charlie would have told me before this morning that I was going to speak with them. However, Charlie is such an awesome boss that he didn’t tell me about this conference until I showed up for work at eight a.m. this morning. “Molly, you have a sales conference at nine-thirty,” he says to me.

            “Awesome,” I lied through gritted teeth, “with who?”

            This is where I started to zone. I can never pay attention to him because his jacked up teeth distract me. Seriously, gross. Are there any vitamins to fix that? Maybe I’ll do my next research set on that… I’m getting sidetracked, sorry. Any way, the next thing I know I’m in my piece of crap car on my way to downtown Chicago, forty-five minutes from Evansville. I was held up in traffic and parking downtown is a bitch, so I arrived at the meeting minutes before commencement. Strolling through the doors, notes and samples in hand, I couldn’t help but envision the praise that Charlie would be giving me after I landed this deal. This meeting had nothing to do with my line of work, so why else would he have sent me than to test me? Promotion? Ohhh yeah. He just had to make sure I’m ready for the next step. I almost feel bad for hating him so much.

The funny thing is, I did not plan on working for a bunch of vitamin peddling hippies when I graduated from UCLA three years ago with a degree in Dietetics. The dream was to tell a bunch of overweight people how fat they were and that they need to eat better. A little harsh, I know, but it’s the easiest way to put it. How I ended up working for VitaSupply in Evansville, Indiana is another story in and of itself, but I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that my current job in sales research does not even require a college degree. Seriously, it’s embarrassing; a trained monkey could do my job. A promotion is just what I need, other than the extra money- considering my loft overlooking the lake is a little more than I can afford.

As I meandered through the doors of the conference room, I could practically smell the mahogany of a brand new desk inside the office marked Molly Hensley, this was it, my big chance. The time was then nine twenty-seven. I would’ve liked to arrive earlier to set some things up and mentally prepare, but luckily I had time to plan a little something to say on the drive there.

Okay, a little something to say is an understatement. I planned an entire speech, sloppily written on the back of a flyer I found in my car. Writing and driving is unsafe, I know, but I needed to prepare since I had no advance warning. Thanks Charlie, LOVE you. I found the seat intended for me at the front of the conference room and began making my way across the tiled floor. I skimmed the room as I was walking, carefully noticing, with the exception of myself, every person in the room was a male. Perfect, maybe I can flirt my way into this sale. They were like clones of each other; it was creepy. Every single one of them wore a black suit and a red tie, sitting so straight in their chair that they looked constipated. They all looked so serious. Nothing to be nervous about, right? Most of the men were in their late thirties to early forties, but men like younger women, right? Glancing down to check how I look, I decided that I looked hot. I couldn’t have chosen a better day to wear my new suit. The deep purple off set my brunette hair perfectly. I adjusted my button down making sure that my boobs peeked out of the slit in my shirt. I’m not a slut so don’t judge me, but sex sells. I was feeling confident as I quickly approached my seat when my nerves got the best of me.

Well, gravity would probably be a better term. My four-inch heels wobbled and slid right out from under me as I walked by the coffee and donut table. Before I knew it, I was laying in a random puddle of milk staring up at the ceiling, my head throbbing, and my purple suit soaked. Seriously, how old are we people? Who spills something and doesn’t clean up after themselves!? Don’t you know someone could slip and fall? Jeeze. Unfortunately, all twenty sets of eyes were on me, waiting for me to move. I wish I were the Wicked Witch of the West and could have just melted to avoid the humiliation of standing up drenched in milk and forging ahead with my presentation. I pulled myself together and stood up. All twenty sets of eyes were still on me, yet no one offered to help or even asked if I was okay. How rude. My wet suit was the least of my worries; however, as I looked down to realize that the blue ink that contained my speech was bleeding all over the paper in a puddle of milk on the floor, completely ruined, along with the vitamin samples. Perfect.

On the verge of tears, I could hear myself begin to speak, as I had now held up the meeting a whole five minutes. “Hi,” oops. “Err, hello, my name is Molly Hensley, and uh...” This had not started off well. The rest of the conference didn’t go well either.  “So, vitamins, you know they’re important...” I sound retarded. “VitaSupply has lots of vitamins…” Thank you, captain obvious. One of the clones raised his hand in the air. Shit. I can handle this… Maybe. “Yes?”

“So you say that you have ‘lots of vitamins,’” he asked, making quotation hand gestures around the invisible words, “what types of vitamins do you offer and what do they do? What makes them better than Vitamin World’s vitamins?”

Cheese and rice. “Well, we have many different kinds for different kinds of people…” I stammered along my on the spot speech, trying to remember what I had written. I prepared for this question, it always gets asked. What did I write? “Vitamins A and B… C and vitamin D, you know, all twenty six kinds.” That is not what I wrote, that’s for sure. Who am I kidding? Did that milk dye my hair blonde? I sound dumb. “You really should consider our proposal.” I don’t blame you if you don’t though, I wouldn’t. I was always an awesome public speaker, what happened to me? “Uhmm, thanks for listening and let me know if you have any questions.” Pathetic. I could not get out of that conference room quickly enough. Not only did I embarrass myself in front of the TNC, NTC or whatever-it’s-called, businessmen, but I failed to sell anything, other than pity and repressed laughter.

Defeated, I grabbed a coffee at Starbucks and began to make my way toward the parking lot in which my car was parked. My stupid piece of crap car was the last thing that I had wanted to see. If I had gotten a promotion I could get rid of that forest green 1992 Ford Escort that I had been driving since I got my license. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t hate the color green, and it probably wouldn’t be so bad if hadn’t wrecked it three times. The darn thing refuses to die, so here I am ten years later, still driving it. Replaying the day’s incidents over again in my head, I wandered aimlessly looking for my stupid car. Compared to my day, actually, my car didn’t seem so bad. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if I could’ve just found it. I finally found the lot I had parked in, but something seemed off as I got closer. My car wasn’t there. There were no cars there. Granted there were only about five cars parked there to begin with, regardless, they were all missing. Wonderful.

I never thought I’d see the day that I’d be upset that my car had up and disappeared. I have no idea where my car went; I’m assuming that it was towed. All I know is that I was stranded in Chicago, which ordinarily I would love, but not today. At this point I just wanted to get the heck out of here. All I wanted was to collapse in my chair, eat ice cream and watch sappy love movies. That could always cheer me up.

I found a bus stop and sat down, which brings us to where I am now, sitting and wondering. Wondering how I always end up in these messes. Wondering why I even stuck with this job for three years when I hated it from day one. I don’t even care about the drug deals occurring at the other end of the bench. Getting mugged would only make my day better. Take my stuff, I don’t want to remember all of this anyway. I could just start fresh with new things and a new life. Perfect. What a perfect plan.

“Your mind’s in disturbiaaa,” my blackberry starts singing.  “It’s like the darkness is light.” I really need a new ring tone. “Disturbia, am I scaring you now?”

Yes, actually, you are. Charlie’s number appears on the caller id. “This is Molly.” I answer reluctantly.

“Molly! How did it go?”

“Awesome, totally nailed it,” God, I hate Charlie.

“Oh, Really!?”

I hate everything about him; from his ridiculous bowl cut dishwater blond hair, his horrible hippy ideals and his stupid beer gut. His jacked up teeth flash across my mind, as I say “No, actually, it sucked, and you know what? I quit.” I hang up my phone without waiting for a response. With newfound confidence, I pick myself up and head off down the sidewalk. Time to get serious. Fatties, here I come.