Page 67 of Cuts like a Knife
My resolve to have a big explicit talk about everything wavers. Maybe he already gets it? Maybe I won’t have to tell him again at all?
Suddenly, he looks up and our eyes lock. Rather than calling out, he gestures to his wrist, indicating that it’s time to go.
Oh well. Looks like that’s all the beach I’m going to be getting today.
~
The rest of the day at the resort is … insane222.
At the morning shoot, three of the contestants got into a screaming match and ended up throwing raw eggs at one another.
Egg-gate: What really happened (from some one who was there!)
I write up 500 words on the whole sorry affair and email it off to Lars before noon. Even though we’re a monthly, I’ve pitched the idea of Citidaze publishing weekly episode recaps and episode analysis on the website, which he loved. I also sent a pitch for a piece I titled:
Don’t believe the foodie hype
Hot Slice’s inedible little secret
Anticipating that that one might not be as well-received, I write only a paragraph about the hideous steak I was served last night, but within a minute — literally, a single minute — of hitting send, a response is in my inbox. It’s one word.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Food qual pitch/exposé?
NO.
It’s a freakin’ Sunday, but of course, Lars has nothing else to do besides check his email.
Oh well. I suppose I tried. Not thirty minutes later, Callum’s found me in the restaurant, where I’ve commandeered a small table to use as a make-shift desk for the early afternoon.
“Nice try on the food quality exposé, Madison. But you must have known that would be a no-go,” he says, smirking down at me. He already looks tanned223.
“The Egg-gate thing was funny, though. And the idea for weekly recaps is good. I think we’ll have you expand on that. Once the episodes are airing, you can live-tweet them from the Citidaze account.”
“Callum, no. The show airs at, like, 10:00 pm. There’s no way.”
“You can schedule them or something, can’t you?”
“How am I supposed to schedule live tweets? It’s not like I know how they’re going to cut the episodes or what stuff they’re going to use.”
“You already wrote the whole egg-gate piece,” he points out.
“Right, but that was obvious. They’re obviously going to use that. Besides, it’s way outside of my working hours.” I can’t help it, the words just slip out of my mouth. I am opposed, fundamentally opposed, to unpaid labour. Not that I’ve advocated for myself on this front lately. For a second, my chest constricts with fear, but Callum barely seems to register my resistance.
“You’re a salaried employee, Madison. You don’t have set working hours. You work when I say so. If you can even call tweeting from your personal phone work. Have you even heard of being a team player?”
I doubt he really wants an answer so I say nothing in reply and he goes on.
“You want a job with a punch card, get yourself a gig at McDonalds. You’d look great in a little paper hat.”
“A paper hat?”
The next thing I know he’s walking away muttering something that sounds a lot like “F—ing millennials.”
Sigh.
