again. Right?”
“Nope, we’re not. How about we plan something for next week?”
“Okay, I’ll call you on Monday and we’ll set it up.”
She put her cheek to mine. “Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I would have felt like a fool telling Tia about the disaster on the boat. I was a walking, talking, breathing robot that always prevailed. I never got hurt. I gave good advice to friends and loved ones. If anyone had a problem, all they needed to do was see me, and I’d help them to get through it. You see, I was an expert. Oh, the friends that I had, I had their backs. Need a makeover? Go see my guy at my health spa. Having legal problems? Go see my friend Jonathan, the attorney. Having relationship problems? Tell Chawnee what was the matter. Just pick up the phone and call me, we’d talk for hours. My difficulties? Now they were another matter altogether. Rarely did anyone see any. Because you see, I was perfect. I was a strong black woman. I was resourceful, and I defended myself at all costs.
I put my feet up on the couch and tried to relax. Actually, I didn’t know when I had started acting this way, but I’d played this game for so long that I couldn’t shut it off. Humph, I wore more masks than Barry Bonds had hit home runs.
7
Tit for Tat
M ina and I couldn’t stand each other! But we had something of an unspoken truce at the office. We ignored each other above all else. That way, nobody got slapped and we both got to keep our jobs. Mina would have been the one getting slapped, though. I just put the fact that she was the cause of my and Eric’s current falling-out in the back of my mind and stored it. Nope, I was sick of her and not about to take another smidgen of that overly competitive little cow.
I played with a pencil on my desk, glancing at the photos sitting on the shelf above my desk as I spoke into the phone. “Yes, Mr. Strautimeyer, I’ll swing by your office first thing tomorrow morning to pick up the disk with the artwork . . .” The photo of me and Daddy dressed alike in blue Meyers Automotive coveralls was on the end. “. . . No worries, Mr. Strautimeyer. As long as your agency has the ad designed and we don’t have to make any revisions to it, we’ll make the press time for this Sunday’s paper.” The picture was taken a couple of years ago. A day when the guy that worked at the front counter of the shop had called in sick and I used a personal day to go fill in for him. Daddy was so proud I was there with him. “I’ll handle it . . . Okay, you too. Have a good evening.”
I hung up the phone and made a note in my Palm Pilot that I was to stop by Skyway Modems tomorrow morning to pick up their full-page, full-color ad that they were running in the main section of the paper this weekend. Mr. Strautimeyer had pulled a full week’s budget from a radio station and another paper to be able to run this ad. It was a nice upsize compared to the half-page black-and-white ad that they usually ran in Sunday’s paper. I knew Mina Everett was probably fuming because several of her smaller accounts’ advertisements were being bumped out of the highly sought-after and widely viewed Main News section.
I was glad that my dad was recovering, and I tried to keep that spirit of gratefulness about myself all day every day. But at work, things got so heated, sometimes I just forgot.
I tried not to gloat when I thought about how Mina’s new account, Fashion Nails, would likely end up in the Sports section. The account probably wouldn’t want to do business with her again. She had to be a little bit upset about that. Served her right! God do not like ugly.
I hadn’t seen her up close since she sat at my table with her friends and Eric at that boat party. Now she approached my area in a yellow button-down shirt that barely covered her up, her fiery red hair down again.
“Hi there, Mina,” I said with a smile and a voice that dripped with sarcasm.
She squinted her green eyes at
“Nope, we’re not. How about we plan something for next week?”
“Okay, I’ll call you on Monday and we’ll set it up.”
She put her cheek to mine. “Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I would have felt like a fool telling Tia about the disaster on the boat. I was a walking, talking, breathing robot that always prevailed. I never got hurt. I gave good advice to friends and loved ones. If anyone had a problem, all they needed to do was see me, and I’d help them to get through it. You see, I was an expert. Oh, the friends that I had, I had their backs. Need a makeover? Go see my guy at my health spa. Having legal problems? Go see my friend Jonathan, the attorney. Having relationship problems? Tell Chawnee what was the matter. Just pick up the phone and call me, we’d talk for hours. My difficulties? Now they were another matter altogether. Rarely did anyone see any. Because you see, I was perfect. I was a strong black woman. I was resourceful, and I defended myself at all costs.
I put my feet up on the couch and tried to relax. Actually, I didn’t know when I had started acting this way, but I’d played this game for so long that I couldn’t shut it off. Humph, I wore more masks than Barry Bonds had hit home runs.
7
Tit for Tat
M ina and I couldn’t stand each other! But we had something of an unspoken truce at the office. We ignored each other above all else. That way, nobody got slapped and we both got to keep our jobs. Mina would have been the one getting slapped, though. I just put the fact that she was the cause of my and Eric’s current falling-out in the back of my mind and stored it. Nope, I was sick of her and not about to take another smidgen of that overly competitive little cow.
I played with a pencil on my desk, glancing at the photos sitting on the shelf above my desk as I spoke into the phone. “Yes, Mr. Strautimeyer, I’ll swing by your office first thing tomorrow morning to pick up the disk with the artwork . . .” The photo of me and Daddy dressed alike in blue Meyers Automotive coveralls was on the end. “. . . No worries, Mr. Strautimeyer. As long as your agency has the ad designed and we don’t have to make any revisions to it, we’ll make the press time for this Sunday’s paper.” The picture was taken a couple of years ago. A day when the guy that worked at the front counter of the shop had called in sick and I used a personal day to go fill in for him. Daddy was so proud I was there with him. “I’ll handle it . . . Okay, you too. Have a good evening.”
I hung up the phone and made a note in my Palm Pilot that I was to stop by Skyway Modems tomorrow morning to pick up their full-page, full-color ad that they were running in the main section of the paper this weekend. Mr. Strautimeyer had pulled a full week’s budget from a radio station and another paper to be able to run this ad. It was a nice upsize compared to the half-page black-and-white ad that they usually ran in Sunday’s paper. I knew Mina Everett was probably fuming because several of her smaller accounts’ advertisements were being bumped out of the highly sought-after and widely viewed Main News section.
I was glad that my dad was recovering, and I tried to keep that spirit of gratefulness about myself all day every day. But at work, things got so heated, sometimes I just forgot.
I tried not to gloat when I thought about how Mina’s new account, Fashion Nails, would likely end up in the Sports section. The account probably wouldn’t want to do business with her again. She had to be a little bit upset about that. Served her right! God do not like ugly.
I hadn’t seen her up close since she sat at my table with her friends and Eric at that boat party. Now she approached my area in a yellow button-down shirt that barely covered her up, her fiery red hair down again.
“Hi there, Mina,” I said with a smile and a voice that dripped with sarcasm.
She squinted her green eyes at
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