Page 20 of FWB
Tiegan
I n September, Rob and I start preparing the two dozen folders highlighting various attorneys working at Kroger in hopes of becoming partners at the beginning of the new year.
Each profile accents their individual achievements, accolades, and what they’ve brought to the company.
It’s a huge project that will take the rest of the year.
I can’t help but feel inadequate as I read through these profiles. These men and women have done so much with their lives. They’ve put away criminals and helped victims of abuse get justice. They’ve mediated messy divorces down to civil disagreements where both parties leave satisfied.
And what have I done? I didn’t technically graduate college.
I ended up falling into a deep depression during the second semester of my senior year and skipped most of my classes.
Therefore, I didn’t earn my degree in music which I had worked so hard toward for four years.
I failed to network myself when first moving to Nashville.
I’ve met some friends in the music business, but I’ve never been good at putting myself out there.
My songs have never seen the light of day.
So I went into the veterinary medicine field for most of my twenties.
I figured I loved animals, so why not? I ended up not being able to hack it.
It was too much stress and way too toxic.
Especially for the meager pay I was receiving.
I feel like I’ve done nothing but fail and let everyone down.
I have to make this job work. My family is counting on me.
Larry comes bumbling into our office while we’re preparing the folders one day. He’s always coming in here and complaining to Rob about something. I keep my head down and continue preparing the documents, but I can’t help overhear their conversation.
“I’m about at my wits end with the service desk. That new guy, Jerome, walks around here like he knows everything. He’s constantly undermining my suggestions about how he should be doing his job,” Larry tells Rob.
“Well, what exactly is he doing wrong?” Rob asks.
“He thinks he knows so much! It rubs me the wrong way.”
So Larry doesn’t like Jerome because he’s good at his job? That’s what this conversation sounds like to me.
“Have you talked to his supervisor about the problems you’re having?” Rob inquires.
“Max also doesn’t listen to what I have to say. He tells me that I just need to leave the technical stuff to them, and let them do their jobs.”
“I guess there’s not much you can do about a department you’re not in charge of, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Larry says as he makes his way to the exit.
Well, that sounds ominous.
At noon, Jerome and I head over to Assembly Food Hall a couple of blocks away to grab lunch. I must warn him that he’s on Larry’s shit list.
“Hey, so I need to talk to you about something,” I venture to say as we walk up Rep. John Lewis Way.
“Is this about you and Kenny?” he asks.
“What? No! Why would you think something is going on with me and Kenny?”
“I see the way you two look at each other. I’ve also caught you sneaking up to the 29th floor,” he says with a wink. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
I blanch. “We’re casually seeing each other. It’s nothing serious.”
“As long as you’re being careful, I don’t care what you do or who you do it with. Just take care of yourself, and don’t get caught doing stuff on Uncle Kroger’s dime.”
“I am, at least I’m trying.” Jerome and I have gotten very close over these last few months, and I hate keeping secrets from him.
“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.
I overheard Larry talking to Rob this morning about you and the service desk.
He was talking about how much of a problem he’s having with you not listening to him.
It sounds like he’s intimidated by how well you’re doing your job,” I tell him as we approach the doors to the food hall.
“Yeah, Mr. Potato Head has been up my ass since I got hired. I don’t know if he singled me out because I’m another tall black man, but I’m not about to play his game. Max knows how good of a job I’m doing, and he’s got my back.”
“Just watch out. I’d hate for anything to happen to you. I don’t know how I’d survive this place if you ever left.” We make our way over to Prince’s Hot Chicken to get our food and grab a table.
“So tell me more about what’s going on with you and Kenny,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “When did all this start?”
“Well,” I say, taking a sip of my Dr. Pepper. “We actually have you to thank for our first rendezvous.”
“What do you mean?” he asks as he takes a big bite of his hot chicken sandwich.
“We actually hooked up for the first time after the game night at your house a while back. We ended up getting a room at the Red Roof Inn down the road. That’s mainly where we meet up, once every couple of weeks or so.”
“Holy shit! Y’all have been hooking up for almost four months? Why am I just hearing about this?”
“We want to keep it on the down low. I know interoffice relationships are allowed. We all know about Larry and Patricia. I also heard Ms. Paula in reception met her husband while working here. But we’re not in a relationship. We’re just friends with benefits. Totally casual.”
“You do realize that being friends with benefits is a type of relationship, don’t you?”
“I know, but Kenny is insistent that we can’t be anything more than what we are.”
“Why is that?”
“He feels like he doesn’t deserve for someone to love him until he ‘gets his shit together.’”
“Psh. Tell me one person who has their shit together in their thirties. I sure as hell don’t. I’m constantly flying by the seat of my pants.”
That makes me smile. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who feels inadequate in life. I’m feeling good that my secret with Kenny is out in the open between Jerome and me.
“Try telling Kenny that. He’s convinced he’s not good enough for someone to love him or something.”
“Give it time. I can’t see how he can resist you. You’re a pretty great person, in my book.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smiles at me around a mouthful of mac and cheese.