Page 33 of Rich and Bossy

What to do,what to do?

How many hours have I spent staring up at this ceiling? All the time I’ve spent planning and dreaming, tracing the faint cracks in the plaster. I know them by heart, every single one. I could probably draw a map of my bedroom ceiling from memory, though I can’t imagine why that would ever need to be done. A party trick? I doubt it would impress anyone.

I thought I’d take on problems like these someday, but I never thought I’d do it before I even have my degree.

It never felt this heavy, this consequential, when I was planning my life out.

I know I always had a tendency to crush on the unattainable guys in school. The star football player, who always ended up with the head cheerleader, then they’d be elected homecoming king and queen. That was definitelynotme.

Which makes my current predicament even more ironic.

He almost kissed me, right? Am I misremembering that moment?

I can’t quit thinking about Paxton. I guess I’m doomed to be that person the rest of my life, because Paxton Briggs iscertainly the most unattainable of unattainables. I thought it was bad when the pool was limited to high school. Now, my brain is aiming at one of the most powerful men in the world, who happened to be a national football star before he got hurt.

I keep staring at the ceiling, hoping my next move will come to me. I have tried my best to balance work, studies, and this new passion I got myself into, trying to organize a union at one of the largest companies of all time.

You really go for it, don’t you!

I know part of it is my competitive side. It was just that day in the elevator, he made me so damn mad and frustrated. I just wanted to give him a headache, make him feel some of what my coworkers are feeling. A sense of danger, a sense that things might just get out of control.

I have plenty of interest at the warehouse, but it’s not enough. Not if we want to effect real change. Organizing laws say we’ll have to have a vote at some point. Even if I got every person I’ve talked to so far, which are the people who are most pissed at the company, we’ll need way more. There are probably thousands that just want to get their paycheck and stay off the radar. They’re afraid of rattling cages and I can’t blame them. Their families depend on that paycheck, even if they’re treated unfairly to get it.

I set up some social media pages, did everything I can think of. I had to filter the crap out of it to watch for spies and only add people I know and trust right now. I’ll have to make some new fliers. I want to be pissed at Paxton for stealing them, but I know the second I put them up, management will walk by and rip them down.

Funny, howthatwill never get caught on camera. No, that digital proof would somehow vanish if I asked to see it. Or I wouldn’t be privy to security footage, for safety reasons. Likethey would suddenly care about safety when it affects the company. Everything is rigged against me. I know this.

I created a group on social media, and it has a few members in it. I try to post something every day to keep them engaged. I mean, it’s only been a few days, but still. It’s only the people I already talked to, plus a few people they’ve brought in there and vouched for.

I can hear my parents downstairs, having a conversation about something. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard them raise their voices at each other—not that I’m naïve. I’m sure they have disagreements. But they kept it to themselves, most of the time. And they almost never let me know about it.

Dad’s advice plays in my memory.You have a big heart, but you can’t save everyone.

He dropped that little gem on me when I was designing the first batch of fliers. He admires my dedication, but when push comes to shove, he shares the opinion that there’s only so much one person can do. And I can’t heap everybody’s pain on my shoulders.

Sometimes the world just sucks, and you have to adapt to it. It’s never going to be fair.

I find that to be an excuse to just accept things. I think you have to fight for anything you want in this world, or it’ll consume you whole.

Maybe I’m a bright-eyed optimist who’s absolutely insane. But every single movement in history, that did a little good in the world, must have started with someone doing what I’m doing right now. Right? Why can’t it be me too? One person with the balls to stand up and say what everybody else only thinks behind closed doors. Why shouldn’t that be me? I’m the perfect person for it, because they can fire me, talk crap, make me out to be a horrible person. I won’t end up homeless. I don’t have kids anda family depending on my paycheck. I can survive whatever they throw at me.

If I’m serious about this, I need to dedicate myself. I need to get after it, and that means no more little drinks with Paxton or anybody else who wants to throw me off course. Who have a vested interest in sabotaging what I’m trying to do.

It’s not like I could get fired for it. Paxton is the CEO. If it gets out, he’ll be the one answering questions. I’ll be like, “Look, I was trying to get him to make some changes so we wouldn’t have to do all this.”

There’s something though. Something more I can do, and I know it, I just can’t figure out what it is. It won’t come to me.

I guess I could talk to some of my professors and see what they think. After all, they’ve taught me everything I know about labor practices and movements for workers. Maybe they could point me in a direction I haven’t thought of.

I glance up at my computer, and I see one of Campbell Page’s articles pulled up.

If ever there was an “aha” moment, it’s this one. It’s so bad I almost smack myself in the forehead, but that would be too cliché. That is the thing that’s been eating at me that I couldn’t figure out. It’s insane, yeah, but so is everything I’m doing.

She’ll be way too busy to respond. She probably won’t even see it.

But it’s worth a shot. It’s always worth a shot to try something, no matter how insane it sounds. You just never know.

Just the thought of doing it makes my stomach tighten. If she even sees a message, she’ll probably laugh. A twenty-one-year-old with no degree is going to go up against Rapid. Unionize their warehouse, in their home city of corporate.

---