Page 60 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
I’m not sure if it has anything to do with my gender, though. Apparently, new hires often get paid more, and this is Fernando’s second job after graduation—he’s been here for four years—whereas it’s my first. Job-hopping can increase your salary, which is frustrating. Shouldn’t employers want to reward loyalty?
The next day, I email my boss first thing in the morning, asking if I can have fifteen minutes of his time. He responds that we can speak at two thirty.
It’s a good thing I’ve done all these tasks before. I’m struggling to concentrate, and I’m annoyed with myself for being so nervous. I’ve been stuck in this loop for ages; I’m used to the fact that what I do doesn’t have real consequences.
And yet.
For a split second, I consider not doing it, but then I think of Cam and my family. I have to try.
At two thirty on the dot, I knock on the door of Lee’s office.
“Come in,” he says.
I enter. My boss is a thin white man in his sixties, his sandy brown hair tinged with gray. He has a mustache that overwhelms his face and glasses perched on his nose.
I sit down across from Lee, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, I launch into the speech I’ve prepared about why I deserve a raise. I’d meant to ask for a raise that would have me making the same salary as Fernando—not that I’d mention it—but I chicken out and ask for a bit less.
Despite my anxiety, I try to be confident. My voice wavers a couple of times, but I think I do a decent job. Lee’s expression, however, is inscrutable.
When I stop talking, he doesn’t immediately answer. No, he takes his time arranging a few things on his desk, including a stress ball emblazoned with the company’s name.
Then he says, “I’ll give you two percent, but no more.”
The old me—well, the old me would never have asked for a raise, to be honest, and if she did, she certainly wouldn’t be complaining about this.
But I’m not that woman anymore.
I begin outlining the research on salaries that I’ve done. I don’t sayI could make more elsewhere, but I strongly imply it.
Lee sighs, takes off his glasses, and pinches his brow. “I know you don’t know much about the finances of the company, but I simply can’t afford it, and if I give you a raise—”
“How much would it cost to replace me?” I ask. “I do more than one person’s work.”
I don’t think I expected this to be successful, despite all theanecdotes I read about people who negotiated decent raises—though women asking for raises aren’t always treated the same as men. Yet a part of me still hoped, and now, I feel like my world is crumbling. It’s not as bad as when I discovered I was in a time loop, but still. This company clearly doesn’t appreciate what I do for them. I worked sixty hours most weeks, and for what?
“Thank you for your time,” I say, then return to my desk and glare at the bland motivational poster on the wall.
For the first time ever, I leave at exactly five o’clock.
If there were consequences, I wouldn’t be quitting my job on June 20. No, I’d quietly start looking for a new one. The idea of being without a source of income is distressing—financial stability has always been important to me—and besides, I’ve heard that it’s easier to get a new job while you still have one.
But I’mpissed.
Although I usually don’t make waves, preferring to observe drama rather than be the center of it, the next day, I march into the office determined to, well, not be myself.
In some ways, the day starts just like any other. I say hello to Eloise, I get my coffee, I send an email to Tyler. I also send an email to Lee, asking for a meeting this afternoon.
At the appointed hour, I knock on his door and enter. He’s wearing the exact same button-down shirt that he’s worn in all iterations of this day.
“What can I help you with today?” he asks.
I launch into a speech that’s a little different from the one I gave yesterday. I don’t expect it to make a difference, but I figure I’ll mix it up just in case.
Once again, he says, “I’ll give you two percent, but no more.”
“That’s unacceptable.”
“I know you don’t know much about—”
