Callie's Heroes

PROLOGUE

Callie looked across the conference table trying to put on her best smile. But it was fake, and the interviewer across from Callie was wearing an equally fake smile. This interview had been ongoing for almost an hour and Callie was getting increasingly frustrated.

“So let me make sure I have this correct,” Callie said. “You advertised an accounting job paying $50,000 a year, right?”

“That’s right. Up to.”

Callie clucked her tongue in sarcastic agreement. “Yup, ‘Up To’”

The interviewer’s hardened fake smile was still in place.

Callie continued. “So up to $50,000. However, you are now saying you’d pay me $30,000.”

“That’s right.”

“How did you come up with that? I have experience and an accounting degree. Even the fifty grand is pretty low.”

“Well that’s what we feel the position should actually pay.”

“Then why did you advertise the higher salary?”

“Well, nobody would apply, of course.”

Taking a calming breath, Callie continued, “And even though the job posting said this was a, and I’ll quote here, ‘One Hundred Percent Remote’ position, I would in fact have to be in the office five days a week.”

“Yes. And two Saturdays a month.”

“And two Saturdays,” Callie confirmed sarcastically.

“That’s right. That’s when we run the payroll,” the interviewer said, lightly bouncing in glee, as if payroll was just the brightest highlight of her life.

“Of course it is. And you offer this low salary and require an unnecessary commute, even knowing from our first video-call interview that I don’t own a car and live at least ninety minutes away by train and bus. Which, by the way, doesn’t run on Saturdays.”

The interviewer just looked blankly at Callie, the plastic fake smile still in place.

“I mean, I’d have to spend…” Callie did an instant calculation in her head, “Twelve point six percent of my low-ball salary just commuting to a job that could actually be done fully remote.” To herself, she noted the fact that most of the rest of it would barely cover the household expenses, assuming she didn’t do anything important like eat or wear clothing.

“We feel working at the office is more suited to a collaborative environment.”

Callie stood and gestured through the glass wall of the conference room, into the office area behind. “Who am I supposed to collaborate with?” There were at least a dozen cubicles, all of which were empty. The overhead fluorescent lights were all turned off. It was a cubicle-hell ghost town.

“Well, this is such a great place to work. We’re like a family here,” the interviewer said. “We really would like you as part of our family, Calliope.”

Callie growled silently to herself at the use of her full name. Nobody was allowed to call her Calliope except her father.

“You young people just don’t want to work any more. It can’t all be about the money.”

Callie narrowed her eyes. “Karen…”

Her name actually was Karen.

“What money?”

Callie did not get the job.

Callie walked out of the high office building feeling an oncoming depression. The job wouldn’t have been great, but the fact it was advertised as fully remote was a plus. It would have allowed her the time to take care of her mom if needed, and in general save several hours a week on commuting. This was the third position she’d applied for that ended up having a deceptive salary, incorrect working conditions or something else in the posting that turned out to be a blatant lie. She wouldn’t have normally gone off on the interviewer like that, but she just couldn’t deal with the lack of respect.

She mentally gave herself a hug to feel better, and then contemplated briefly stopping at a coffee shop she was passing, but couldn’t justify the money for a latte. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and checked the train schedule. The next one was in about fifteen minutes, so she had plenty of time to go the three blocks to the small, elevated station. Taking a deep breath of city air smelling vaguely of urine, she put in her ear buds, fired up some music, and started walking.

Half an eye on where she was walking, Callie scrolled through her phone, checking her social media for memes and responding to a couple that were cute. She then sent a message to her mother to let her know she was heading home.

CALLIE: DID NOT GET JOB. HOME IN 90.

Mom would be disappointed the interview didn’t pan out, but what could Callie do given the circumstances? It was a bad job, all things considered, and there was no way it made sense to take it.

Still … she could go back and see if they would still offer her the gig …

NO! It just wasn’t worth it and she had to have some kind of basic standards to, you know, earn a livable wage.

Her phone vibrated with an incoming message. It was Mom.

MOM: TO BAD. WNT SPAGTTI DINNER?

Mom was all thumbs. Yea, spaghetti sounded good.

CALLIE: SOUNDS YUMMY. WILL GET BREAD ON WAY.

MOM: OK

Living with her mother wasn’t awful, and Callie had long passed the embarrassment of sharing the space at her age. It was just the way things worked out. Mom needed someone to help around the house now that her father was gone, and in exchange charged no rent. Callie did contribute what money she could to help with bills, but it wasn’t likely she was going to get her own place any time soon. Callie had a simple, quiet life of books and marathoning television shows, and didn’t date, so there wasn’t really any need for the private space anyway. All things equal, it could all be worse.

Callie nostalgically smiled a sad smile, a wave of loss from her father’s passing over her. Dad had died two years ago. Heart attack. Boom. Gone. She and her mom had muscled through, but with no siblings, that household support all fell on Callie now. Luckily, Dad had taught her some handyman skills growing up, so she could take care of the basic work that was needed to keep the place up and do some very basic woodworking and construction.

The truth was, she could probably get a decent job as an apprentice plumber or electrician rather than sticking with accounting. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but the pay would be good and it was honest work. But as introverted as she was, that option wasn’t very appealing. Numbers were where her heart was, and she truly wanted a job that let her work with them full time. Maybe in six months she’d finally have to give in.

Taking a deep breath, Callie started counting primes to each footstep as she finished her walk to the train station, the music in her earbuds playing a random selection. Primes were something she liked to occupy her mind with when she was feeling out of sorts, or rattling off pi, or some other mental number game.. Numbers just seemed to ground and calm her in most situations. Two, Three, Five, Seven, Eleven, Thirteen, Seventeen …

She arrived at the station just as she reached Three-Hundred and Forty-Nine.

Just as she approached the stairs to the elevated platform, she couldn’t help but notice a woman ahead wearing a bright yellow dress with a huge red hat. Everything in the downtown area was gray and drab, so the bright colors really stood out. Not everyone could pull that look off, but this woman absolutely nailed it. Seeing it lifted Callie’s mood slightly.

“Great hat!” Callie said as she passed, a genuine smile on her face.

The woman was startled by the compliment. “Oh, why thank you, Miss Callie.”

It took six steps before Callie halted, suddenly realizing that the woman had used her name. She turned, but the woman was nowhere in sight. She was about to go back down the stairs in an attempt to find the woman, but a distant horn sounded, signaling that her train was arriving. She could keep looking, but the next train wasn’t for an hour.

Torn between the mystery woman and getting home, Callie finally sighed and turned back up the stairs to the platform. The woman knowing her name was going to eat at her, but she really just wanted to get home.

Callie got to the top of the stairs and swiped her commuter pass. She pushed her way slowly towards the front of the dozen or so people waiting, feeling a little like a jerk for it. But she wanted to board first in the hope of getting a decent seat. Finally she edged up next to the tracks to wait.

“‘Excuse me!” called a high-pitched voice somewhere behind her. “Coming through. Excuse me!”

Callie looked briefly behind her, seeing the huge, wide-brimmed red hat pushing its way through the crowd. The woman called out “Excuse me!” several more times and finally arrived breathlessly to take a spot right next to Callie.

“How do you know my name?” Callie asked, looking at the woman. She had blue eyes and bright red lipstick. A lock of bright blond hair snuck out from under the hat, blowing gently in the air. She was thin and the dress outlined her curves. It really was a great look.

“Oh, poo,” the woman said. “You noticed that, did you?”

“Do I know you?”

The woman screwed up her face in some combination of a frown and thinking a deep thought. Finally, she said, “Nope, I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

“What?” Callie said.

The women beamed a bright smile. “Hip check!” she said suddenly.

“Huh?”

With that, the woman hip-checked Callie right off the edge of the platform. As she twisted in the air, Callie noticed two things. First, there was a train coming awfully fast. Second, the woman still had that bright, beaming smile on her face and was wiggling her fingers in goodbye.