Xelforme

January 30, 2015

Internshipping

I was a wreck.

I'm talking the shaking hands, sweaty palms, and that nervous ear-twitch us big
cats always get when we know something's up. I kept switching my resume from
hand to hand so it wouldn't get wet - yeah, it was that bad.

"Who are you here to see, sir?"

I looked up at the receptionist, who gave me a cute head tilt as her pen
absentmindedly poked at a pad of paper. She was a cute lab, a golden, with
attentive blue eyes and short hair cut into jagged lines.

I ran a hand through my own speckled and white bangs in a weak attempt to
make myself look presentable.

Hello, my name is Scott Ranimar. I'm here about the job posting for the information
technologies position, and I believe I'm a perfect candidate for your interning
program.

"Hey, Hello. I'm Scott. I'm here to be, or rather, I'm inquiring about the potential
interning position."

The receptionist blinked once, saying nothing.

"For the, I.T. position. Interning. With...."

She blinked once more.

"...I.T."

She waited a moment longer. I gulped, waiting for a response, not trusting
myself to speak. I clenched my fist around my thumb, squeezing the life out of
the offending appendage as if causing it pain would stem the amount of verbal
garbage spewing from my mouth.

She blinked once more, then smiled. "Who are you here to see?"

"I, well, the position online wasn't, didn't quite specify."

The receptionist turned to the computer, hitting some quick commands. I
looked around for a moment, admiring the atmosphere. The walls were painted
a present beige, with comfortable leather chairs positioned against the walls.
Satirical posters plastered the walls with messages poking fun at bureaucracy
and workaholics in favor of a more laid back environment.

"Cloe, by the way."

Shaken out of my daze, I turned back to the receptionist, who gave me a big,
friendly grin and held out her hand. I shook it, a bit shaky, but firm.

"H-hey Cloe. Scott."

She leaned back in her chair, exposing her 'I'm not short, I'm fun-sized' black T-
shirt, and tattered jeans. "So, coming in blind without a meeting. Pretty bold!"

I would say desperate, but hey...

"Thanks." My mouth saved me, "I just thought I would give it a try, you know?
Bring my resume over, and, well...yeah."

"Good initiative." She nodded, turning back to the computer. "Let me see if
anyone in H.R. is available."

"Sure."

Cloe tapped a few numbers on her phone, and pressed it to her ear. She waited
for a moment, then its twin, and then gave me a tired smirk and rolled her eyes.

"Busy?" I chanced.

"Worse, on hold."

I giggled despite myself. "Aren't you the receptionist?"

"You'd think..." She trailed off. A few more moments went by, and she slowly
let the phone slide down her face in a show of annoyance. She pressed it back
to her ear with a huff. "So, where are you from?"

"Me?"

Cloe leaned forward, looking to the left of her desk to a collection of soft drinks,
then the right with a locked door and a keypad. "There's no one else here."

"Well, I mean, you are on the phone."

She shrugged, relenting. "Yeah, you."

"North, Maine originally. Moved south when my parents split, closer to my
mom's side. Chose to move to Chicago once I graduated to get away from it all.
Yourself?"

"Parents immigrated here, I was born in Pennsylvania. Traveled around for a bit,
and landed a job telemarketing. Pays well, less hours than you'd think, and puts
my useless arts degree to use. Let's me enjoy myself, you know?"

I nodded.

"Hey, want to grab a drink?"

My eyes widened. "Um, t-thank you, but I'm underage, and aren't you working?"

She paused, smirked, and then burst out laughing. "Wow. I meant the
complementary drinks to your right, but I like the enthusiasm, playa." I winced,
praying my regrettably white fur would shield my embarrassment.

Suddenly, Cloe shifted and pressed the receiver to her ear. "Oh, hello? Yes, I
have a Scott Rani...mar?" I nodded, cheeks still burning. "Scott Ranimar here
for an interview." She paused. "Yes, I'm aware. He showed up without an
interview. Okay, yeah, I'll tell him."

She hung up the phone. I swallowed, the familiar jitters making their way to my
stomach. Cloe tilted her head as if to savor the moment, holding me in cruel
suspense.

"H.R. can't make it right now," She dutifully reiterated, "But, there's an opening
on Wednesday. How's 10:00am for an interview sound?"

"That, yeah. That sounds amazing. I'll be here!"

"I'll be waiting." She leaned back, placing her feet on her desk and exposing
just a touch of her fuzzy golden midriff above her black, studded belt. "And
seriously, grab a drink on the way out. The cream sodas are delicious."

---

I ran a hand through my drenched, snowy hair, and watched the water drain
down the white fur of my chest. Showers were always the best after a run.
Nothing cures stress better than that slow burning in your lungs, and that
euphoric ache in your thigh. I grabbed my loofah and pressed it to my arms and
flexed, enjoying the feeling of the muscle contract.

A year ago, I couldn't do that. A year ago, overweight, still bearing the scars,
metaphorically from my parent's separation and physical from the pocket knife
I slid down my wrists. The abuse I could deal with, but the self-loathing...

I took a breath and I cleared my mind. I wasn't that leopard anymore. I rinsed
off and stepped out of the shower, dripping onto the scale. 150. Sixty pounds
less than when I started running. I gave a contented smirk, the steam pouring off
my body and fogging up the mirror, obscuring my alter in a haze of white. I
dragged my paw across the condensation, making a small window.

My jade eyes stared back, a sharp contrast to the speckled white of my coat. I
always admired them -- the way they portrayed my endless drive, and just the
hint of sleep deprivation.

I walked to my bedroom, staring at the wardrobe I had placed for myself only
moments prior. A black striped suit stared back, which hugged my thinner,
toned frame nicely, and a striking green tie to match my eyes. Polished shoes
and black socks were next, which I slid on with ease. They may be hand-me-
downs, but they fit me well.

I put on my lucky necklace, a thin piece of silver knotted in an old, Celtic charm.
I didn't believe in it, not really, but it was a piece of home, a piece I always
treasured.

I turned around and stared at the door. I was going to a job interview. A real
one. Not the stint at Pizza Hut as a delivery boy, not the waiter job at Frisch's -
no. This was a real, honest job, one in my field, one doing what I loved. Fixing
things, helping people, and being with technology.

I stared at the door. Was this real? A year ago I had been crippled by my
anxiety, but now it was just a part of me. A screaming voice in my ear, dulled
only by time and experience. A year ago it only spewed hatred, but now?

It motivated me. It pushed me, to run. It pushed me to find my own place, to find
my own job, and to step outside my comfort zone and not live by the hand I was
dealt, but carve my own way into the world.

And now, it was going to get me that job.

---

Heart full of a unique mixture of trepidation and hope, I stepped through
AllTech's foreboding glass archway and into the reception area. The beige
walls and the quirky posters calmed me somewhat, until I saw a golden head
pop up from the reception desk.

Cloe grinned. "Scott Rememberer! You're early."

Rememberer?

"I just, you know, punctual." I sputtered, giving the receptionist my best
attempt at a casual smile.

Her eyes gave a knowing, tired glint. "You'll be perfect for tech."

"That's what they tell me..."

"Come over here," Cloe jumped up from her chair and began leading me down
the hall. "The interview will be held in C-12, which...is...just..."

We both stopped and stared at the other in bewilderment.

For one, now that she was standing, it was clear that Cloe was much shorter than
myself. She was just shy of five feet, making me tower more than a foot over her.

"Jesus, man." Cloe stared, her neck craned at an awkward angle to stare me in
the eyes, "Run into any birds lately?"

I crossed my arms. "I'm barely over six foot!"

"I'm barely over six foot." Cloe mimicked, smirking. "Tell that to the extinct
eagle population. Damn. And here I only wanted to be over five."

She held the door open for me, and as I walked through I noticed her eyes glint
mischievously as she looked me over. Was it that rare to have a leopard be tall?
I knew I was slightly taller than most of my immediate family, but I didn't think it
was really anything of note. And her eyes almost seemed...

She motioned to an open chair, which I quickly took. "Alright, you comfortable?"
Cloe leaned against the doorway, content being taller than myself now that I
was sitting. She wore the same, or at least similar tattered jeans, and a rainbow
t-shirt that read 'God hates figs' with a picture of the fruit in the background.
Over it, she wore a dark cotton jacket with pockets far too tiny to actually use,
with most of the buttons torn away and sown back haphazardly.

Her jeans were just slightly too small, giving her a tiny pudge in the front, which
she quickly covered by yanking down her shirt.

"Certainly!" I blinked, praying I wasn't staring. "Do you, um, know when the
person interviewing me will arrive?"

"Yup! Now." Cloe pulled up a chair.

"Oh! I, um, okay." I gulped. "You're conducting the interview?"

"Oh, do you want someone more qualified? Is a receptionist too good for you,
then?"

"No! T-that's not-" Cloe laughed into her paw, and I realized my mistake. "Oh,
that's, that's not funny. I was concerned!"

Cloe waved her paw dismissively. "Please. No one's serious here. AllTech is
one of the most laid back places ever. Lax dress code, chill hours, great pay,
the only stimulation is that you pull your weight."

"I-I can do that."

"Can you?" Cloe gave me another once over. "Tell me about yourself, Scott."

I coughed. "Well, I graduated from Cornell University with honors, specializing
in Computer Science and Technology, minoring-"

"Not what you have done, who you are." Cloe clarified.

OHGODWHATDOESHEMEAN

"Oh, I, I see." I gulped, "Well, I...I love media, and analyzing entertainment like
movies and books. I like running, and I'm competing for a 5K soon."

"Go on."

"I m-make music as a hobby, and I've been on 77.1 before as a guest host. My
uncle used to run the show before it became more of a pop station, so that was,
um-"

"What draws you to music?"

My mind raced. "Expression, mostly. I don't, or rather, I can't convey my
meaning as clearly as I sometimes intend, and it's..."

Cloe stared at me patiently, waiting for me to finish.

"It isn't as if my music is more clear, or better at conveying meaning, but at
times, it does feel as if I am being understood."

She nodded. "Nice."

"T-thank you." I chanced.

"What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?"

I swallowed, buying myself previous time. "Um, my greatest strength would
definitely be patience. Technology can be a trying and sometimes frustrating
field, both for consumers and for producers, and by keeping a level head I
think I both can help calm the end user, and make sure that the job gets done."

Cloe narrowed her eyes. "And your weakness?"

"Perhaps, um..." Cloe leaned forward, inadvertently exposing her cleavage. I
lost all train of thought in an instant, and quickly averted my eyes. "I, um, that is,
I-I could always refine my, um, social skills, just too b-better connect with the
end-user and communicate with my team."

Cloe paused, leaning back in her chair and assessing me with her eyes. "Very
well. Would you consider yourself a team player, Scott?"

"C-certainly! Both with consumers and with other employees, I'm just...friendly
with everyone."

"Friendly. With. Everyone." Cloe wrote, scribbling something town on a
clipboard. I gulped, praying that wasn't the highlight of my interview. "So, Scott,
when would you be available to start?"

"I'm available to start immediately-"

"Sweet! Sign." Cloe unclipped an official looking paper, and slid it to me. I
blinked, quickly scanning it over. "If you want, we can even start you today. At
twenty-five an hour, that'll net you...what, a hundred and seventy-five bucks
your first day?"

This cannot possibly be this simple, and twenty-five an hour is far higher a salary
for an IT intern. Is this a joke?

I gave Cloe a befuddled look, but she kept talking, oblivious. "The form in front
of you is fairly standard stuff I pretty much copied and pasted from a contract I
found online - I'm pretty sure that's legal, right? - and it has everything you'd
expect. Hours worked are consistently eight a day, but you can show up
whenever if you're, like, a super early bird or a night owl or whatever. Also you
can do super sprints, like working sixteen hours straight and taking a day off to
go to comic-con, or hentai-fest or whenever you're into."

I looked straight ahead, careful to betray no emotion as Cloe continued
blathering on.

"It also lists what you'll be up to, essentially making sure shit stays running -
you're technically be a junior in this position, not an intern, so you'll be keeping
track of most of the show here, let's see..." Cloe looked back at what I assumed
to be her copy of the form. "No office romances, yadda yadda..."

I tilted my head "No office romances? Doesn't that seem a bit...archaic?"

Cloe slumped her head on the desk, giving me a dry nod. "It's not like you want
to date anyone here anyway. They're all 'Business! Business! Marketing, finance,
'End-Goal' Scrum achievement seminars!' All the senior level technical people
are outsourced to our satellite in Boston, so you'll be all alone in a sea of
business people." Cloe suddenly perked up. "And me!"

"So you...want to hire me right now?"

Cloe's ears tilted down, somewhat. "Technically I wouldn't be the one hiring -
Mr. Quagga is in charge of that -- but yes, AllTech wants someone of your skill
set pretty much now."

I signed the form and slid it back. "That sounds incredible, absolutely! What
happens now?"

"Now? Coffee, then I'll show you around to some of the offices and the server
room. How do you take your coffee?"

"Hot!"

"And tall?"

"What?"

"What?" Cloe squeaked, grinning and darting out the door. "Come on!"

---

Despite Cloe's original warning about the deceptively business-flooded
environment of AllTech, everyone around me was very relaxed and friendly. I
learned about the common problems and failings of the companies systems and
how to fix them, and within a week, I was fairly confident in my abilities. When
the servers went down on Friday I was able to restore them in under an hour,
which, assuming by the praise I received from Mr. Quagga, was a pretty nifty
feat.

Cloe's warning of the Business-side of Alltech wasn't all wrong, however. I was
one of only two of AllTech's 'junior IT staff', the rest were on call in case of an
emergency. Everyone was respectful, but I still felt an air of disconnect with the
other workers at AllTech, as if being in information technology made me less
qualified, or less useful to them as the others. They weren't exactly wrong - I
didn't know anything about 'revenue-sharing organic-growth', but it was still a
feeling that caused a slight dissonance in the company.

Cloe was the perfect remedy for that.

Not only did she go out of her way to talk and hang out with me at work when
the days were slow, she would also offer to hang out with me after work. 'The
Pies and Pints', a bar next door to AllTech, was her favorite location of choice,
where she enjoyed drinking the money she had acquired only hours prior.

"And then, Phil, right?" Cloe looked at me for conformation, a healthy, alcohol
fueled blush adorning her cheeks. "He was bleeding everywhere, into the
coffee maker, all over the carpet, the chairs and the desk, just gushing, and
Waltrin - you remember him, heavy set guy? - well, he has no idea what to do,
so he just sits on Phil's thumb!"

I giggled at the absurdity of the story. "Did it...help? Like, the pressure?"

"I guess! After that, they wrapped it up pretty good, and, well, Phil tells it better
than I could. Just imagine, bleeding all over someone's butt!"

She laughed, clonking her tankard on the table. With the dim lighting, and the
deceptively quiet atmosphere of the booth seating, and the laid-back
atmosphere, I could easily see why this was her favorite place to relax.

"Hey, so you never told me, how'd I do at that interview?"

"Hmm?" Cloe looked up from her drink, as if I had interrupted her from some
deep thought. "Oh, you did good."

"Just good?" I tilted my head, trying to assess more meaning out of the
nonchalant response.

"Well..." Cloe bit her lip, and shifted in her seat. "Promise you won't get upset?"
Bad news?

"Sure, okay." I chanced.

"I just...kinda wanted to know more about you. There wasn't actually an
interview. I...made it up."

I blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Mr. Quagga already hired you, based on your resume and previous
work experience. They just wanted me to make sure you were the type of
person that would be...amenable...to the type of business we do."

"What, fixing tech?"

"No, pshhh." Cloe snorted, waving a paw. "Have you seen the office? You're the
only tech guy around!"

"W-well yeah, everyone else is in the Boston office, right?"

"Oh. My. God." Cloe put her drink down, and looked me in the eyes. "You
actually believe that, don't you? Scott, the whole thing is a drug front."

My eyes budged out of my head. "What!?"

"Yeah!" Cloe continued, underrated. "They pay you to keep your mouth shut
about it. It's a money laundering service - we're a fake IT site, who needs fake
employees that look like they're working. I mean, we need to do some work - a
lot of the hire ups jobs are actually to ensure the process goes smoothly, and
you do some excel work to manage expenses - but yeah, most of us are just
warm bodies to fill chairs, and not look suspicious."

"Jesus." I blinked, processing what I had gotten myself into.

"Hey, cheer up!" Cloe bumped me. "You're getting paid, like, three times the
normal amount, and hey, you never knew it was money laundering, right?"
"But, shit, Cloe! We're ruining people's lives!"

"Naw, it's just pot. Free sample?" Cloe flashed a can of something green, and I
waved it away quickly. "Suit yourself. It's going to be legal soon anyway, so it
barely even matters."

I shook my head, contemplating everything that just occurred. "But what about
the interview? What about me made it seem like I was...?"

"Oh, that choice was up to me." Cloe stated proudly, before shrinking back
somewhat. "I suppose I could have been a bit easier on you, maybe not asked
so many questions, I just, you know...I was curious about my new coworker."

Cloe blushed somewhat, and took another swig of her large beverage of choice.
"A-anyway, you were getting paid for it too, so no hard feelings, right?"

While Cloe wasn't slow by any means, she had a tendency not to quite think
things through all the way, which was both amusing and somewhat troubling.
This week alone, two of the technical problems were caused by her attempting
to use the network for something t was never intended for, like mining for
Bitcoins, and trying to run a Minecraft server for two hundred players.

"Hey, um." Cloe looked up from her drink, looking strangely exposed. "Are
you...busy, tonight? I have some popcorn, and I was wondering if you might
want to come to my place, and, ya know, watch it. With me."

This wasn't the first time she had asked this, nor the first time I had turned her
down. She was cute, well...no. She was gorgeous. Adorable in that perfect, edgy,
self-aware way. The way her bangs were cut just above her eyes, and that
attentive, blue-eyed look she always give me when I spoke...the way she would
bounce when she would get excited, and her endless, silly energy, it just drove
me wild. If she were anyone else...

But she needed this job.

Even more than I needed this job, she needed it to survive. I'm not being
sarcastic when I say that she was living paycheck to paycheck, and some
months were scarier than others. She didn't know how to budget at all, and she
spent nearly all of her paycheck with me, drinking. I brought it up - once - and
that was the angriest I had ever seen her. It wasn't just rage, but pain -
something I didn't understand, and something I didn't want to push.

Nevertheless, she needed this job to stay alive, and continue her way of life.
Also, she really only asked after her third or fourth drink, and I'm moderately
sure that with a girl of her stature, sleeping with her after the second drink
would pretty much be rape. Especially after what she was drinking.

"You're drunk." I countered, flicking her nose lightly.

She pouted, crossing her legs. "You always say that."

"You're always drunk!"

She looked angry for a second, then shrugged, and downed the rest of her
drink. "Well, sometimes I'm high. It numbs the meaninglessness of the job.
There's only so much I can procrastinate on a daily bases, you know?"

Boy, did I. There was a lot of time I spent pretty idle, but for every minute I
spent board, Cloe spent five. I'm moderately sure her job only consisted of one
hour of actual work a day - interacting with real and fake clients, apparently --
with the other seven mostly considering of her staring blankly at the computer
screen, or bugging me when I was trying to get actual work done.

Not that I really minded, of course. Cloe was always a welcome distraction.

"Maybe you could pick up another language?" I suggested.

"Mayyybe. What I really want is to use my tablet at the office." Cloe frowned.
"The type of software need for it needs the administrator's stuff, and without it, I
might as well be drawing stick figures."

"You know I can do that, right?"

Cloe looked up slowly, not quite comprehending what I just said. "What?"

"I can do that. You need the admin's password -- I can actually do that, and
install your tablet's software. We can do that tomorrow morning, if you'd like."
Cloe's eyes went wide, and she reached out and hugged me from across the
table, causing me to inhale a mouthful of her fluffy golden hair. "OH MY GOD,
yeah! You're a real IT person! that would be AMAZING, thank you!"

"No problem!" I smiled, pleased at my quick resolution.

"Hey, Cloe!" Veronica, one of our coworkers, waved to us from a few booths
away.

She was one of the hire-ups, likely the one that managed the distribution
process, gaging by the amount of work related calls she took, and despite the
laid back atmosphere of AllTech, she always had a professional aura about her.
She wore a black dress which matched her hair, and large, golden earrings
through her mouse-like ears.

She strolled up to our table, and sat down next to me. "You're the new junior IT
guy, right? Scott, was it?"

Cloe gave her an obvious glare. "Seriously? I will eat you."

Veronica looked at me, then Cloe, and scurried back to her table. Cloe gave a
satisfied smirk, and crossed her arms triumphantly.

Cloe turned to me, and waggled her eyebrows. "So seriously -- movies?"

---

Not dating Cloe was getting even more difficult as of late. Since I didn't want to
truly reject her, and thus really never said 'no', and her methods had become
increasingly more blatant.

She draped her arms over me while I was working, resting her head on my
shoulder while looking at my computer screen. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Um, writing a proposal to color coordinate the different cords in the server
room to make them easier to distinguish. Also, trying to write a cleaning
schedule to minimize the dust- are you smelling my hair?"

"No." Cloe shrunk back, running a hand through the exposed fur of my collar.
"You're so soft..."

"Cloe," I gulped, "I appreciate the attention, but-"

"CLOE!" Veronica hissed, turning around from a nearby hallway. "Stop feeling
up the new guy, would you, before he files a sexual harassment claim, and
blows this whole operation?"

She stormed off, muttering something under her breath that didn't sound
particularly 'team building'.

"What a bitch." Cloe growled, inadvertently clinging to me tighter before
quickly letting go. "She's wrong...right? I'm not being like, a nuisance, am I?"

I took a deep breath. "Cloe, you're awesome, and I love hanging out with you..."

Cloe tensed.

"...but you really NEED this job. If we get fired for having a relationship, I
honestly don't think you have another shot at a job as well paying as this. Here,
you have an opportunity to both get paid well and spend your time working on
your art, and-"

"Waitwaitwait." Cloe interrupted. "Is that the only reason? You don't think I'm
creepy or anything? Too short?"

"No, nothing like that, I'm just worried about our jobs-"

"Scott, I MADE THAT FORM UP!" Cloe exclaimed, beaming. "That wasn't
official!"

I winced. "Wait, so I just signed something you just made up, too?"

"Well, technically someone else wrote it, I just stole it off the internet, but yeah!
Office relationships are totally allowed here. Don't believe me?" Cloe suddenly
stood up and waved to someone behind me. "Hey Mr. Quagga!"

I cringed, and Mr. Quagga turned and shot Cloe a peculiar glance. "What do
you need, Cloe?"

"Am I allowed to fuck the new guy?" She hollered. I winced, hard.

Mr. Quagga shrugged, his Mohawk tilting to the side. "Sure. If you do it the
office after hours, count it as overtime. Up top!" He smashed his hand into Cloe's,
over my scarlet, cringing face.

"See? This place is awesome." Cloe grinned. "So, movies?"

I'm not sure I fit in here, in this atmosphere, and in this space. I'm not sure I
understood the structure or the culture, agreed with the...corporate goals...or
even understood the cute, adorable golden in front of me, batting her eyes.

...But it might be something I could get used to.

"H-hell yeah." I nodded fiercely.

Cloe simply beamed, and sat in my lap. "You're gonna like it here, Scott."