10.
Buffy Summers sat at the edge of a leather chair soaking up the ambiance around her. This was it, the inner sanctum. The crux of power. The prospect ahead was beyond thrilling but a herd of butterflies in her stomach tipped the scales from heady nervousness toward nauseated anxiety. She swallowed uneasily as Harmony Kendall, clad in a fitted, fringed bolero jacket and matching skirt intently perused Buffy’s hastily written job application form.
Over Harmony’s shoulder stood a handsome black man and a statuesque red-eyed demon. Besides looking like they’d just stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine, these guys looked like they had a few neurons to rub together. Harmony had really come up in the minions department. Introductions had been made but in her state of near panic, Buffy had already forgotten their names. Adrenalin bubbled in her veins demanding attention but there was no going back. Now was the time for razor sharp communicative skills. Buffy sat a little straighter and fought the urge to chew on her lip.
“So, Buffy.” Harmony raised her lush eyelashes and then a questioning eyebrow. “You want to join the Wolfram and Hart team.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” Buffy attempted a relaxed smile but failed. She needed to modulate her voice better. Desperation wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
“And what do you think you can offer us as an employee?” Harmony tilted her head to the side, anxious the hear Buffy’s response.
The time had come for smoothness and self-confidence; Buffy took a deep breath. “Well, I was the Slayer, Harmony, as you know already.”
“Yes, well, slayers are not as exclusive a commodity as they used to be.” Harmony did have a point.
Buffy’s stress levels intensified. The slayer angle–her ace in the hole–didn’t seem to be working. The interview wasn’t going well. Buffy was grateful that Harmony agreed to see her at all. They did have an unpleasant history between them, but what was a little kidnapping and attempted homicide among former nemeses? Times changed, people changed. It’s called life.
Gainful employment didn’t look promising but after a thoughtful pause Harmony continued with the interview. “How are your people skills these days, Buffy?” Harmony remembered a mousy, footwear challenged high school girl who did little to help herself fashion wise and who hung around with a socially stagnant substrata of person. Xander Harris and his annoying cowlick came to mind.
“Couldn’t be better.” At last! This was something Buffy could grab on to and run with. “I’m good with people,” she asserted with conviction. “I’m a people person.” Buffy pressed a smile to her lips in an attempt to sound convincing. She was eager to impress Harmony with an admittedly sudden, but deep and abiding yen to become part of the Wolfram and Hart team.
For Buffy, the steady income department had been a continual source of stress. Dawn required things like food, lodgings, hair care and feminine hygiene products on a regular basis and the bills stacked up. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of profit to be had in saving the world. Consequently, the big friendly check with lots of zeroes attached continued to be elusive. Giles finagled a stipend to tide Buffy over but most of that was coming out of his savings. It was a sweet and gentlemanly thing to do but Buffy needed to do for herself and for Dawn. Joyce raised her to be self sufficient and that’s the legacy she’d give her sister. Consequently, getting her foot in the door at Wolfram and Hart seemed like the perfect solution to Buffy’s budgetary quandary.
“Slaying isn’t exactly the kind of interpersonal skill we value here at Wolfram and Hart,” Harmony declared with a neutral stare. “We have pretty much eliminated the need to, you know, eliminate our clientele. I head a team of innovative thinkers and doers and talkers. Does that sound like something you could excel at?”
“Absolutely! I can think and do and talk, no problem.” Buffy realized when a bone was being thrown her way. This wasn’t a time to quibble.
“Give me a chance, Harmony. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Hmm…” Harmony sat back deep in thought. There were pros and cons to consider.
Buffy sat stiffly, feeling the relentless scrutiny underway. She hadn’t emphasized her ability to multitask or to solve problems with a creative flair and a sizzling wit. Her characteristic verbal acuity had taken a sudden nosedive as well. Buffy realized too late she could have benefited from role playing the interview first. Perhaps it was the stress of the interview process that was hampering her. Perhaps it was the choking notion that upward mobility and a comprehensive benefits package may never be in her future. It could have been the shiny facets of Harmony’s meticulously positioned crystal unicorn collection that glistened majestically in Buffy’s dazzled gaze, or it could have been the breathtaking highlights that punctuated Harmony’s superbly styled hair.
It was all so professionally intimidating.
Buffy tried to swallow the dry knot in her throat. No luck.
“Would you mind singing us a little something?” Harmony’s piercing gaze never wavered.
The unexpected request unnerved Buffy. “Singing? Uh, I didn’t prepare anything.”
“It’s just a formality,” the red-eyed demon interjected in dulcet tones and then smiled reassuringly. “Happy Birthday will do.”
They were serious. Buffy never thought there’d be singing required, but then, what did she know of the intricate machinations of the corporate world? This was the big time. She took a deep breath. “Happy Birthday to y–” Buffy warbled to a stop when the demon held up his hand. He leaned down and whispered into Harmony’s ear.
“Really?” Harmony looked at the demon who continued to whisper and nod. Buffy’s nose began to itch. It was all she could do not to scratch.
“That’s kind of a hard song to sing,” Buffy muttered in her own defense. The demon at last stood up and Harmony turned once more to Buffy. It was obvious that a decision had been reached.
“I work by instinct, Buffy.” Harmony pushed herself back in her chair and steepled her expertly manicured fingernails in front of her. “And it has rarely steered me wrong. I trust the can-do vibe that throbs through the corridors here at Wolfram and Hart. I am willing to give you an opportunity and put our unpleasant past behind us. I may be soulless, but I can spot a go-getter when I see one. I sense potential in you, Buffy.”
“I won’t let you down, honest.”
Harmony’s sweet as honey smile drifted ominously. “See that you don’t.” She scribbled a few words on a cerise post-it and handed it to Buffy. It had a floor and office number written down in plump, curvy script.
Buffy looked down at the paper. It took the strength of her slayer resolve to hold off from squealing with delight at the incredible opportunity ahead. This was a bona fide dark clouds parting and sunshine shining through moment.
She was in.
*
As a seasoned fast food veteran, Buffy was no stranger to uniforms. After withstanding the ignominy of having a stuffed cow fixed to her head, pretty much anything short of a bejewelled thong was doable. The Wolfram and Hart greeter’s visor did have two little devil’s horns on it, but it was cute and cheery compared to the floppy heifer that could only be described as deeply disturbing. The absence of boiling oil fog and grease splatter was a definite coming up in the world too.
Buffy wore a green vest and skirt with a crisp, white shirt that made her look a bit like a brussel sprout, but a business savvy brussel sprout. Her friendly employee tag read: “Greeter: Hi, my name is Buffy.” They were sending her to the front lines to test the veracity of her people skills on that most uncompromising of beasts, the public.
Performance anxiety was also not a stranger.
The huge atrium foyer was her territory and a genuine smile her only weapon. A pleasant cabbage of a woman named Irma gave Buffy a fine model of Wolfram and Hart’s front line public relations. It was simple, honest work with no hidden agendas. It was refreshing in its Zen like absence of conflict and demon entrails. Buffy felt electrified with panic and excitement.
“Good morning! Welcome to Wolfram and Hart. How may I direct you today?” This was Buffy’s new battle cry, a mantra brimming with purpose and pride. If she worked diligently and conscientiously, Buffy saw the mailroom in her future. Maybe one day she could be an intern to an intern. For once the sky was the limit.
“Good morning! Welcome to Wolfram and Hart. How may I direct you today?”
This might just be the most perfect job ever.
*
Buffy’s morning passed with little incident. All manner of person and thing passed through the main lobby and each one was burdened with the same lingering uncertainty regarding which way to turn. It was a privilege to give the desperate masses the sure and confident knowledge that they had come to the right place and that Buffy Summers could point them to the correct elevator.
Proper flow of persons and things was more difficult than it at first appeared but an absolutely essential part of the business day. Most visitors were too preoccupied to convey the thanks they surely felt at seeing a friendly and competent face, but occasionally Buffy merited a grunt or wave. It was enough for now.
If Harmony Kendall could climb her way up the ladder and shatter the glass ceiling, then Buffy Summers could do it too.
A puff of smoke floated from behind an enormous granite pillar.
“I’m sorry, but this is a no smo– Spike! Now, you ought to know better.” Buffy scolded Spike softly and waggled her finger at him.
Spike’s head jerked backward as he took in the sight of Buffy in her full regalia.
“A question if I may, love?”
“Shoot.”
“Why are you here dressed like that, with what looks like an employee badge on your pretty bosom?”
“What does it look like, silly? I am now a member of the Wolfram and Hart team.”
“Excuse me?” Spike froze halfway through a blink. Could he still be dreaming?
“Surprise!”
“WHAT?”
“Oh, just a minute, duty calls!” Buffy scampered away and diligently directed an eight foot something in dark flowing robes with knuckles dragging across the immaculately polished marble floors to the service elevator at the rear of the foyer. She then skipped back to where Spike stood, his jaw hanging open with suspicion and stupefaction.
If Spike were dreaming, Angel would have carried Buffy away on his white steed already and Spike would be off drowning his sorrows in a bottle of well aged whiskey and plotting juicy revenge. The funny thing about that dream was that Buffy never wore a uniform of any kind short of the required diaphanous scarves. If this wasn’t a dream then–
“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Shock and confusion arrived right on schedule.
“I am the newest employee of Wolfram and Hart.” Buffy stared at Spike with excitement bursting from her face. “I’ve been on the job for,” Buffy checked her watch, “an hour and a half. Cool, huh?”
Spike’s face seized in a spasm. Buffy…employee…Wolfram and Hart. Why were those words in the same sentence?
“The uniform is nothing great, I’ll give you that, but I’m representing the company now.” Buffy searched Spike’s still face for a reaction. “We don’t all have the luxury of just hanging around, Spike,” she pointed out. “I have bills to pay. She may not look it but Dawn is very expensive.”
“Buffy, you’re the Slayer, you don’t work here.”
“Look, I know you’re shocked, but it’s true. I had an interview with Harmony herself! Can you believe it?”
“Not remotely.”
“I know! Isn’t it the freakiest? Interviews aren’t really my thing but…Wow! I have so much to tell you! I have a really good feeling about this.”
“Buffy.”
“I have to get back and I have this orientation thing at lunch, so we’ll talk later, okay?”
“Buffy.”
“Look, I don’t want to get fired on my first day, not after I told Harmony that I can be a team player and everything. My prima donna days are behind me, Spike. You’ll see!” Buffy looked radiant and motivated. Spike couldn’t remember ever seeing so earnest an expression on her face. “We’ll talk later. I can tell you all about my first day in the trenches.” Buffy stretched up on her tippy toes and kissed Spike. He watched her rush back toward the front doors.
Spike enjoyed watching her move. Even in badly designed polyester she was something, but a Wolfram and Hart employee? Bugger that. Spike needed to get to Angel as soon as possible and tell him that Buffy was either drunk, a pod person, an inter-dimensional doppelganger or perhaps a zombie. Granted, she was a little too coherent for a zombie, but doppelganger was looking like a distinct possibility. Spike sprinted to the elevators and jumped inside one. As the doors closed Buffy waved at him and blew him a kiss. The look on her face was so innocent and earnest it gave Spike pause.
Pod person promptly flew to the top of his list.