Page 116 of Rich and Bossy

I also need to find a new job, but that’s a problem for another day.

Unlike my coworkers who got fired with me, I have parents who don’t mind supporting me while I take this on. We have to win this vote. We’ve tried to appeal the termination for all of them. Campbell has union lawyers in Chicago and New York working on it around the clock. I don’t know if she’s paying them or if it’s free, but they are experts and it’s still being dragged out by the company in court.

I guess there’s all kinds of drama between where Penn works and a guy named Donavan, who is Decker’s brother, who runs the firm in Chicago. I could not follow all of it, but apparently, it’s been a struggle for them to kind of play both sides after that and work with both firms.

Anyway, she says it’s not important, and we have everything we need to get the best outcome possible. I just need to keep up the media appearances, keep telling the public how they’re treating us for trying to form a union.

If anything, even if we lose, it will highlight the abuses of these global juggernaut corporations.

A production assistant hustles into the room wearing a headset and carrying a microphone pack in one hand. “We’ll be on in five.” He reaches behind me without warning, hooking the mic pack into the waistband of my pants before clipping the little microphone onto my blouse. I’m almost consumed by this strange impulse to ask him to at least take me to dinner first next time, but something tells me the joke would be lost on him. I’m sure he does this daily and knows what he’s doing.

“Remember what we talked about. You’ll do great.” Campbell smiles and walks out past the lights.

I sit there in one of two chairs in my living room that’s now unrecognizable with all the production equipment, TV cameras from multiple angles. Just when I thought things couldn’t get more surreal than they were, I find myself surprised.

“The gloves are off now, but you just have to stay professional, sound reasonable, and tell everyone’s story.”

“I got this.”

She appears again. “You’re damn right you do.” She has a hand on each shoulder, then adjusts my hair a little, arranging it so it frames my face in a more flattering way. “Perfection. You’re going to do amazing, no matter what.” Meanwhile, I can barely get my hands to stop shaking. This isn’t cable news, not even a popular and respected program like the ones I’ve appeared on before now. This is network TV, and we’ll be live.

And all of a sudden, I think I might throw up.

Before I have a chance to do so, a woman as familiar to me as my own mother strolls over to me with a hand extended. “Hazel, I’m?—”

“Leslie Hartman,” I finish for her, and I can feel the hot flush that’s now coloring my cheeks. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

She’s won countless awards over her decades in journalism, and up close she’s even more beautiful and personable than she comes off on TV.

She laughs gently, the way a person would do if they heard the same thing coming from just about everybody they ever met. “The honor is mine. You’ve got a lot of guts. Fighters recognize each other like that.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say.

“We’re about to get started. Relax, take your time answering. They’ll work the commercials around us.”

One of the crew members checks my mic one more time before stepping away. I can barely make out Campbell over behind one of the cameras. She gives me a thumbs up.

To Leslie’s left there’s a monitor, and on it I see myself the way everyone watching will see me once we get started. Is this how so many other people have felt only a minute before going on camera? I never gave it much thought before now. I don’t think I’ll ever watch the news again without having at least a little sympathy for anyone being interviewed.

I wonder if Paxton will watch? Why am I even thinking about him?

He’s the absolute last thing I need to think about as Leslie takes a sip of water, listening through her earpiece to directions coming from the production team.

“Here we go. You’ll be just fine.” The image on the monitor changes, now showing me one of the other co-hosts sitting in the studio. All I can see are his lips moving.

Leslie starts staring at the camera over my shoulder. “And I’m here live, with a young labor revolutionary, taking the nation by storm.”

Look right at her. Look right at her.

Leslie wears a professional smile as she addresses the camera again. “I’m here this evening with Hazel Strous, who is quickly becoming a celebrity in the business world. At the tender age of twenty-one, Hazel has rallied together employees in preparation of a vote which will determine whether the Minnesota warehouse at Rapid organizes a union.”

Now she’s looking at me. “Unfortunately, Hazel, you recently lost your position with the company.”

“That’s correct.” I can see myself out of the corner of my eye, my image filling the monitor.Don’t fidget, don’t touch your face. “I, along with twenty other employees, was let go last Monday.”

“And you believe that was because of your attempts to organize a union?”

“That’s what I was led to believe at the time, yes. Even though the company’s official position says otherwise.”

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