Page 14 of A Lot to Unpack
‘I don’t,’ she says quickly. ‘I need you to be on call, for when we do need you, for trips. We’ll get you set up in the office soon enough but, for now, this is what we need you for.’
‘But… will I still be paid? Or is it freelance?’ I check.
I suppose I’ll have to accept it either way but it’s not ideal.
‘You’ll be paid,’ she replies. ‘It will all be in the welcome pack so have a read, send me what I need from you, join the group – and welcome to the Matcher family.’
‘Thanks so much,’ I reply. ‘I really appreciate the opportunity.’
‘Well, given your skills, and your honesty, you’re exactly the sort of person we need,’ she says. ‘So, go celebrate.’
‘I will, thank you.’
I need to ring my mum and tell her the good news – and the bad news, I guess, because now I don’t have to move back home. Not yet, anyway. First, though, I’m straight into my emails, to see the details of the job. Okay, wow, it pays better than my last job, and I’m going to get to travel, and right now I don’t have to do anything, just wait, and get paid. What a dream!
I download WorkM8, which looks like an app lots of businesses must use, and sign up. NewGirl feels like a goodusername, for now, given that I’m not supposed to be interacting with anyone.
I click around the different threads, reading what people are saying, and it does seem like a nice place to work. Everyone seems happy.
MrLoveByte
Hello, NewGirl
A private message pops up from nowhere. Am I… allowed to reply to this? Was it only posting publicly that I wasn’t supposed to do?
MrLoveByte
Welcome to the team!
I feel bad, ignoring him. I’ll keep it short and sweet, I’m sure that’s fine.
NewGirl
Thanks!
I’ll leave it at that. I already feel like I’m part of a team, though, and I’m excited. I have a job and not just any job, but what seems like it’s going to be a great job. Perhaps my luck is about to change – and, ironically, because of Matcher again. Hopefully for good reasons this time though.
6
I can’t believe this is my first time in Paris. Not that I know what I’m doing here.
It’s not that I’m not excited about my new job, really, I am. I mean, I’d much rather work for a company that isn’t peddling an app that is frankly where the scum of the earth go to try to touch each other, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I’ve been begging for something.
I just need to focus on the positives – not only do I have a job but it’s paying me to go somewhere I’ve always dreamed of visiting. Paris has always been at the top of the list; in fact, I’ve been talking about it a lot this past year, because I was trying to convince Ben we should go together. I didn’t simply drop hints, I dropped full itineraries of all the places I wanted to go and the things I wanted to do there – it was practically a ready-made Valentine’s Day or anniversary or birthday gift. All he needed to do was take the initiative and book it, no thought required (and being thoughtless was clearly his speciality). Why on earth was I settling for such a terrible boyfriend? Never again.
Anyway, I’m here now and my first impression is that it’s big, beautiful but so busy. I suppose we always think of places as theylook on postcards, or in carefully constructed movie scenes, but in real life there is no director, no one to keep tourists out of your Instagram shots or help you get tables in cute cafés.
It’s hard to believe I’m here for work – mostly because I haven’t been given any work to do yet. They’ve just shipped (well, technically flown) me to Paris, stuck me in a hotel and told me to wait. That’s all Paige said to do, to wait, to hang out but not venture too far, to see if I was needed. She isn’t even here, it’s the other owner, apparently, so I guess I have to do as I’m told, to ‘hang out’ and see.
So that’s what I’m going to do, that’s my plan. I’m just going to amuse myself until I’m needed… if I’m needed. This job is so strange.
I like that my plan of action is to basically have no plan at all. That’s my new plan of action for everything really, because in my recent experience, if you simply go with the flow and hope for the best then it’s almost impossible to feel disappointed. Spontaneity, that’s what we’ll focus on. Well, what’s more romantic than being (technically) whisked away to Paris and then having no idea how the night will turn out, the endless possibilities? It’s a dream, and not only a dream come true, but a silly fantasy, because I was brought here by my job, not a man, and let’s face it, if your man brings you here for V Day you’ll, what? Walk around the overcrowded tourist hot spots, fork out a hefty wedge of brie for a meal and then probably feel so full you’ll get about three pumps of missionary before he falls asleep and you attempt to watch French TV alone. Not that I’m still bitter since my break-up or anything…
Speaking of living in a dream world, I’m currently on my way out of my hotel, heading out to see the sights, doing my best impression of Carrie Bradshaw fromSex and the City– well, I’m taking inspiration from her Parisian outfits at least. I’m wearing a baby-blue tulle skirt – a big ruffly thing – and a cropped whitejacket. I’d say I don’t know who I think I am, but I do – the third-bestSex and the Citygirl (I’ll leave it up to you to figure out my ranking for the others).
I am beauty, I am grace, I have poise, I have… Oh, motherfucker, I’ve got my skirt caught in the revolving door.
The hotel is busy, of bloody course, so the door is moving pretty much constantly, and as much as I’m yanking away at my skirt, I can’t break it free. At this stage I don’t even care if I rip it, but it’s a cheap thing from a fast-fashion website, not delicate couture, so it is unrippable. It’s probably largely made of plastic – I’d have more luck melting it, versus ripping it, but with zero tools at my disposal, I can’t do anything but keep walking around and around with the door. The occasional person steps in with me and generously I assume they don’t speak English, realistically I think they’re more likely ignoring the crazy English girl caught in the revolving door.
