The Brenda Diaries (4 page)

Friday, April 15:

I’ve put together my outfits and am now doing my ironing for the coming week. Maya is disgusted with me. This doesn’t bother me at all.

Saturday, April 16:

For someone who just got in from being out last night (and who didn’t come home with her underwear), Maya is being very judgmental.

“You can’t be serious, Brenda. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. This is completely normal to want to spend time in my apartment doing apartment things. I spend all week working to pay the rent; I want to get my money’s worth on the weekend.” It’s way past 11 and all I can think about is how much I want my Starbucks and how much I don’t want to make the effort to go and get it.

“You’re so boring, Brenda. Were you always this boring?”

“Yes, in fact, I was. And I am.” I yawn and pull my hair into a ponytail. “I’m going for coffee. Want to come along?”

“Boring, but yes and only if you promise to come shopping with me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Boring, bitch.” She sticks her tongue out at me and slams the bathroom door closed. “I’d rather be boring than have to take a pregnancy test every other week.” Okay, fine, I waited to say that until after Maya got into the shower.

Sunday, April 17:

I’ve made good on my promise to do nothing so I have nothing to show for it.

Monday, April 18:

I’ve broken one of my temp rules and made a sort of friend here at the law office. Theo sent me to the supply room for more yellow highlighters where I met Cal, who recently signed with TempOne after realizing things like rent, food and car payments have to be paid with money, not sarcastic comments. He’s funny, and definitely too cute for his own good, but I turned down his offer to hook me up with all the notepads and ball point pens I could stuff into the waistband of my skirt. 

Last thing I need is to give Theo an excuse to frisk me, though I have the feeling Cal would find it hilarious if he did. He seems like that kind of guy.

Tuesday, April 19:

Cal handed me a Xerox copy of his bare ass on bright pink paper. I asked him to autograph it and he did. He also wrote down his phone number—right down the middle of his crack.

Wednesday, April 20:

My plan to get out of having to deal with Jared and Maya two nights a week and earn money as a tutor to empty-headed Wyatt at his parents’ drool worthy home might have sort of backfired on me. I’d romanticized the whole thing, but the truth is he’s just plain lazy. Worse, he knows he can get away with it.

As with Maya, his mom and dad will make sure he never has to worry about paying his rent and he’ll never have to forgo Starbucks because he can’t afford it. Thinking about this makes me resent my own parents who instilled in me a strong work ethic and the rapture of delayed gratification. Whatever. Once the apocalypse comes, the Mayas and Wyatts of the world will be screwed while me and my stash of canned and dehydrated foodstuff will rule what’s left of the planet.

“So, yeah, what is it that you, like, do?” Wyatt asks not looking up from his term paper. I’ve marked it up with suggestions such as “Use complete sentences” and “You can’t start every sentence with ‘Actually’.” He steals a quick glance at me. “Are you, you know, an actress or something?”

I let out a snort even though I do treat each temp assignment like a movie or book and I dress for them like I’m playing the starring role. “Didn’t your parents tell you?”

“Nah, man. They hardly talk to me.” Wyatt flushes at revealing the sad truth I had already guessed. “I mean they’re, like, super busy with their careers and shit.”

“I’m a temp. I work for an agency and they send me out to work jobs all over the place. It’s not very exciting, but it pays okay and I like it.”

“Okay.” Wyatt tries to process this information. He shrugs and goes back to his marked up term paper. “You can go now. I won’t tell my parents you skipped out early.”

I look at Wyatt. His eyes are clear and bright and I realize he isn’t dumb but it would be easier for him if he was. He has a free ride and he knows it. Short of murder, there’s nothing he can do that will screw it up for him. Poor kid.

“Make those changes and you should be okay to turn it in. If you have any questions, email or text me.” I walk to the table where my envelope of money is waiting. “So I’ll see you next week. Okay?”

“Whatever,” Wyatt says.

“Whatever is right,” I say as I stuff the envelope of cash into my purse.

Thursday, April 21:

I was at the supermarket last night and saw a little girl, about four or so, sitting in a shopping cart. Usually, I ignore kids unless they're doing something really obnoxious. Then I'll give them a dirty look or egg them on, but not this kid.

What caught my eye was her hair. She had a head full of Shirley Temple curls. How do I know about Shirley Temple? I spent the ages between three and six watching black & white movies with my grandma. She came to live with us after her divorce from her third husband and she'd do my hair up just like Shirley's.

So tonight, after working a full day for Theo I'm putting my hair up in sponge curlers and watching
Curly Top
. I'd call my grandma to tell her, but she's in Vegas with her senior citizens group. Nothing, not even happy memories, comes between that woman and a blackjack table.

Friday, April 22:

I’m making precise lines with paper clips, sorting them by color and size. Earlier, I started a rubber band ball that’s now in my purse. You never know when you’ll have a rubber band emergency on the road or at home. When Theo strides out with his big fat briefcase, I don’t even bother sweeping the paper clips into my lap. There’s no point in undoing my efforts of the last half hour. We both know the game we’re playing and if he wants to pay me (through my agency) to participate, I’m in.

“I see you’re keeping busy, Brenda,” he sneers, like a real one. It’s his signature look. He needs to whiten his teeth. Maybe I’ll leave an ad for whitening strips on his desk.

“Yes. I am.” I look up at him blinking under the weight of my false eyelashes. I went all out today, my highest heels, narrowest pencil skirt and crispest white shirt. If I could have shot my face full of Botox to keep it expressionless, I would have. There’s not much I won’t do to make sure a temp assignment is a success even if it means I have to be passive aggressive about it. “Would you like me to forward your calls?”

Theo is on the outs with both his Park Avenue wife and his Abbot Kinney girlfriend. He had me send flowers to each of them. Red roses, of course, with the same message on the card, “I’m sorry.” He’s not sorry. He’s annoyed that they’re annoyed with him. I have news for Theo: he owes the whole world a bouquet of roses.

“No. Just take messages.” He walks away without saying goodbye or telling me whether he’ll be back or not. Being that it’s 4 PM on Friday, I doubt it.

Not that I care (even though he is winning because I have to sit here and do nothing if I want to get paid). I start hooking the paperclips together, alternating colors, to make myself a necklace to go with my bracelet.

Saturday, April 23:

I had an interesting conversation with another potential renter while looking at places for Maya. This guy asked me if I knew if any hookers or drug dealers lived in the building. Told him I didn’t think so, but he could ask the property manager to make sure. They had a quick chat and he left without filling out an application. Guess the place didn’t have the kind of amenities he was in the market for.

Sunday, April 24:

Woke up with an intense craving for pancakes—not from a box mix or microwave. Jared came over and flipped me some. From scratch. And they were super good. Now I’m in the early stages of a pancake coma and have accepted that it will be impossible for me to do laundry. Going to curl up on my couch and let Jared rub my feet. I could get used to this boyfriend thing.

Monday, April 25:

Summer has booked me for a week at an office tower in Westchester, right near the airport. From the window I can see the planes land and take off, one right after another. I’ve had plenty of time to watch as all of us temps have been corralled into a conference room with no airflow and not enough chairs, waiting to find out what we’ll be doing.

The office manager is calling names, but not alphabetically. She then disappears with that person and comes back a few minutes later. The woman next to me says the longer we stay in here, the crappier the job we’ll end up with. I’m positive the office manager is playing favorites and it’s obvious I’m not one of them. Who is? The bitch with the face who gave me the smuggest look when she was called first.

I hope I don’t have to work with or even near her.

Tuesday, April 26:

I’ve never been a proponent of gal-on-gal crime, but Priss (short for Priscilla whose default expression is a bitch face, hence her moniker BitchFace) is asking for a beat down. She’s doing that thing where she stops talking when I walk by and then starts up again when I’m a few steps past. Whatever. I’m here to work not turn my life into a bad Lifetime movie about sorority hazing. Or at least I thought I was until this happened:

I was working on a project with another temp, Marci, and when I told her my name she said, “So you’re
that
Brenda.”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m
that
Brenda. Do you have a problem with that?”

I couldn’t help it—
this
Brenda was seriously annoyed even if it wasn’t directly at Marci. If she’s dumb enough to step into a pile of office politics, I’m not going to throw my coat over it so she doesn’t get her Payless shoes dirty. Hasn’t she watched any Lifetime movies?

A few minutes later she got up, asked to be reassigned and I had to finish the project on my own, which was much more efficient anyway since Marci wasn’t exactly a big help. 

So something is going around the office about me and I’d bet my paycheck whatever it is, it first came out of Priss’s butt pucker mouth.

Wednesday, April 27:

Priss has organized a select group of temps to go out for lunch and she’s making a big deal about it so those of us who haven’t been invited are well aware of it.

I once heard of a temp pooping in the cubicle of another temp. I’m not at that point, but it’s something to consider.

Thursday, April 28:

Last week’s assignment working for Theo was only tolerable because I got to hang out with the highlighter thief, Cal. He’s smart, cute and plays in a band (which he’s invited me to go see play). I dropped several strong hints that we can only be friends (with no benefits) because I have a boyfriend.

Speaking of benefits, my now (official) boyfriend, Jared, hasn’t been enjoying them lately because Maya has parked her carcass on my sofabed and Jared has performance issues if he thinks he has an audience and I refuse to get busy anywhere but my apartment. We’ve been making due (or, at least, I have). I’m totally kosher with him manually taking care of business (in fact, I encourage it). As far as I’m concerned, no one should be singing the blue balls blues.

Maya has been making noises about moving out, but I’ll only believe it once she packs up her Sonicare toothbrush. The good news is that Maya and Jared get along (none of that “I knew her first” crap to deal with). I even send them out on errands together (so I can be alone). Unfortunately, they’ve each assured me they don’t find the other one attractive so there’s no chance of ditching them both and then getting an awkward invite to their wedding (which I’d totally go to and get sloppy drunk at).

Anyway, back to Cal. He’s exactly the kind of guy I would never date (especially not since I got some standards). He’s just this side of lazy and he flirts to get out of doing what he’s supposed to do (like working).

I refused to cover for him while he went for a cigarette because I know he doesn’t smoke (I found his profile on nerve.com). He’s also very chatty and almost got me in trouble with Theo a couple of times (but he did make the days pass a little faster).

Theo is obsessed with me. It’s an easy assignment (aside from being around so many lawyers), but I can only stand working for the turd brain one week at a time. He’s already booked me for a week next month, but Cal won’t be there. He’s not being asked back because they found out about the highlighters (but not about the Post-its and paperclips).

On our last day temping together, we took an extra long lunch (like I said, it’s an easy gig). Cal tried some of his tricks on me (Really, does any girl enjoy having a guy sing a cappella to her?), but I pretty much told him I have a boyfriend (we’re texting, but that’s it) and I’m not interested (even though I find him interesting).