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A Worse Idea 80

A day passed.

Metahuman Affairs was housed in a surprisingly-normal looking office building, surrounded by a cluster of other normal-looking office buildings.

This made it easy to get near. There weren’t any crazy fences or security guards with big-ass guns.

Instead, Anne merely needed to park in one of the parking lots. But, like, she wasn’t going to park in the Metahuman Affairs parking lot, ‘cause that seemed a bit much. She was about to park in the parking lot NEXT to the Metahuman Affairs building, but then she realized they might have people like watching her or whatever.

Therefore she parked in the parking lot for the building that was next to the building that was next to the Metahuman Affairs building.

Just as she was getting out of her car, some other lady pulled into the parking lot. The lot wasn’t  that big — it could house maybe twenty cars — but there were plenty of empty spaces. It was lunch time, and everyone at the office loved lunch time, because their work was boring (middlemen for office supplies).

Despite the fact that the lot was nearly empty, office gossip Marcia Lee decided to park in the spot right next to Anne’s. Anne sort of kept her gaze on the ground. She whipped out her phone, trying to look as unapproachable as possible.

Marcia approached. “Hey!” She waved her hand. “Hey! Hey, you!”

The sight was ridiculous, to say the least. Anne tried walking more quickly, but this Marcia lady wouldn’t let up. With her funny hat and her blue high heels and her waddling gait, she pursued Anne.

Finally, Marcia yelled, “Why are you avoiding me?”

Anne’s heart bounced into her throat. She stopped, turned around and said, “Haha what? Who? Me? Avoiding? Haha? What? That’s… haha?”

Marcia stood there in the asphalt, hands on her hips, looking at Anne. “Young lady, you were avoiding me.”

“No.” Anne shook her head. “No way. I’m sorry, it’s just that I was… Millennials, you know.” She held her phone up and rolled her eyes. “Texting, you know? Too many screens. I’m a Millennial and we’re so text-y.”

Marcia crossed her arms. “Millennials do text too much. You know my grandson, we just can’t get him off that phone. With the texting and the VideoTube and all that. Absolutely terrible.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Anne said, slipping the phone into the jean pocket. “This thing makes me so rude sometimes.”

“That’s alright,” Marcia said. “I just wanted to know what you were doing here.”

“What I’m… Yeah, what I’m… Well, you see…” Anne said. “I’m the… intern?”

“The intern,” Marcia said.

“Yeah!” Anne said. “Yes, yep. I’m interning. With your company.”

“Then why are you walking away from the building?” Marcia pointed at the boring-looking office building, which was in fact in the opposite direction from the one Anne was headed in.

“It’s lunchtime, right?” Anne asked. “I wanted to grab lunch, then get to work.”

Marcia glanced at her watch. It was, in fact, a vaguely lunch-ish time.

Marcia squinted, then nodded her head. “It’s always good to see a nice fresh face on the team. You go get lunch now, and when you come back I want you to tell me more about yourself. Oh, also, just a little tip.” Marcia leaned in, which made her old-person smell all the more obvious to Anne. “You might want to dress a little nicer for tomorrow.”

She has a point, Anne thought to herself, looking down at her ratty t-shirt and dirty jeans. Then she remembered she wasn’t actually an intern.

Oh, damn. I’m so good at lying I just lied to myself, she thought.

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