Kate Gregson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vanillajello) wrote2011-10-20 03:04 pm
vanillajello) wrote2011-10-20 03:04 pm
Kansas City, MO, Thursday (Late September)
So, while there were minor parts of this week that had been mildly depressing, today Kate was pretty excited because her first post-high school job interview was finally here. In preparation, she'd finally had her hair trimmed a bit from the overgrown hippie mess that it had turned into over her time in Fandom (though not as much as to completely lose her pseudo-bohemian charm) and she'd put a lot of thought into her outfit. The job was for a fucking fashion magazine, after all! She had to dress to impress. And she was pretty pleased with the end result, too, thinking it a pretty neat ensemble in appropriate fall colors. Cute but professional. That was the aim.
And she was practically on fire at the interview proper. Bubbling with energy. "And this is what's refreshing about me," she declared. "I am the only person that you are gonna meet here today who isn't lying on her resumé. What's the point? Yeah, I didn't go to college. Yeah, my high school transcript reads a little weird. Yeah, I worked at Barnabeez on Shawnee Mission Parkway and had to sue for sexual harassment, but that was only because my boss was insane!"
She gave only half a second's thought to whether she'd grinned a little too widely during that last bit. No matter, she pressed straight on, leaning forwards toward the interviewer, a thirty-something guy who... really did not look cool enough for a fashion magazine, but she'd deal. "This is what you get with me," she said, and emphasized her points with her hands. "I am smart. I am dedicated. I could write about fashion." She leaned back again, as relaxed as she could pretend to be. "I could write the hell out of this magazine."
At least the guy was smiling, though he had a correction to make. "This isn't a writer's position," he said. "It's... administrative."
Oh. "But I could get there, is what I'm saying," Kate replied, recovering quickly. "This is who I am," she added, smiling. "I'm telling you everything. You can trust me to do a good job because this is me!"
The guy, still smiling, held a finger up as if to make her pause for a bit as he turned towards his computer. Then he turned the screen so she'd see too. "Is this also you?" he asked, as he pressed play on an internet video.
A video of an utterly, terrifyingly familiar figure in tight metallic shorts and a plastic breastplate and wig that had weighed a tonne. A second-rate valkyrie.
And she was sitting down on a cake.
"... Oh."
Fuck.
-----
So, yeah. That was Kate's day pretty much ruined, right there. Beyond embarrassed, she'd basically fleen from the interview after that little incident, and gone home where she'd changed clothes and unloaded a slightly edited version of the horror story to her (at least somewhat) sympathetic mother and brother. The former had then decided they all needed to go out for a bite to eat as an effort at boosting their collective morale. And Kate had been so busy wallowing in her angst that by the time she realized they were at Barnabeez, it was too late to do anything about it. So now she had even more of a reason to feel nauseous. That was just great. Just great.
"Why are you so bummed out?" Marshall wondered, once they'd been seated and each had an ice water and a menu. "It was one interview for a fashion magazine in Kansas. Okay? This is a place where girls wear KU sweatshirts to prom."
"Internet is evil, Moosh," Kate replied, scowling over at him. "Every stupid thing I've ever done might as well be tattooed on my fucking head." She rubbed her forehead and looked down at the menu. Ugh, she hated everything on that stupid thing. "If I'd known we were going to Barnabeez I would've just stayed home. Everything about this place makes my stomach churn."
Marshall leaned over, tapping a finger against one item on her menu. "Even the deep-fried BarnaBrats?"
Kate supposed he was trying to cheer her up, in his own way. It was the only reason he didn't get glared at. "Depends," she drawled. "Do you like chewing on a shit-filled condom?" Her mother admonished her for that, but it only made her turn towards Tara to explain herself. "Here's the Barnabeez lowdown... Anything that says 'fresh seafood' is made from this rubbery white fish flab. In the kitchen, they have these cookie cutters shaped like a clam, and a crab leg, and a shrimp..." Seriously, how had she ever worked here? "Whatever. And there's these... delicious sprays.... Ugh. It's just nauseating."
It was the theme of the day.
Tara looked uncomfortable and glanced around. "Do they serve alcohol here? I need a drink."
"Tell me about it," Kate sighed.
"Aren't you writing that paper tonight, Mom?" Marshall asked. "How's it going?"
"Honestly? Not great." Tara shook her head. "I had a few moments today where I thought, 'God, what have I done? What if I can't pull this off? What if I'm already everything I'm ever gonna be?'"
Which was what every kid wanted to hear, sure. "Okay, stop," Kate said, straightening up in her seat a little to frown at her mom. "You can't talk like that, Mom. Because if you've never done anything and you're old, what does that mean for us?" Geez, she was already having major doubts about her future, and she really didn't need Tara adding to that. "I mean, am I gonna be sitting here in this same booth 20 years from now, bumming out my beautiful daughter --" She put her arm around Marshall's shoulders and gestured at the restaurant at large with her free hand "-- and gay son about all the things I never did?"
Tara smiled wryly, and it could've been a beautiful little bonding moment, if not for the voice of a girl from somewhere nearby. "Kate? Kate Gregson?" Kate turned towards the voice, and saw a girl in a Barnabeez uniform. Her recollections were fuzzy but she was pretty sure the girl had been maybe a trainee when she'd quit. Shoulders tightening, Kate felt instantly on edge at being recognized here of all places. Shouldn't have come here. She knew it.
"Everyone in the back thought it was you, but I didn't think it was possible," the girl said. She leaned towards Kate, lowering her voice, like something was a secret. Her eyes were big and earnest. "Somebody said you're like, a spy or something."' Oh, the old CSR job. That sounded so much better than what Kate had going for her right now that she ended up affecting a secretive look as she sipped her ice water and said, "Well, I can't really talk about it right now..."
"Oh." The girl sounded disappointed. But, she picked up the plate she had on her tray. "Hey, someone sent back this crab leg supreme." She set the plate down in front of Kate, like an offering. "Now, you've got to tell me something about your life. I won't say a word."
Kate barely heard her. Looking down at the plate, then up at the girl she had to swallow the taste of bile back down. Really shouldn't have come here. She thought that even before a handful of other servers flocked to the table. "I told you it was her," one of them boasted to the others before even talking to Kate. "I'd recognize you anywhere." That wasn't creepy at all. "Hey, Kate," he added, a little more excitedly, "I saw this video online, of this girl sitting on a cake --"
And that was when Kate puked on the table.
-----
An hour or so later, and they were at the hospital. Not for Kate, obviously. While she'd been out with Marshall and Tara, Charmaine had been home alone, and had started having contractions, and since Neil and Max had been out having a beer, apparently she'd ran down the street to Ted's house and freaked the shit out of him before making him take her to the hospital.
And now it looked like she wasn't even in labor, so basically, Kate was enduring yet another super uncomfortable situation today for nothing. And yeah, yeah, she was going to feel bad for her self-centeredness later, but for now? She hated hospitals. All the white surfaces and detergent smells were making her get flashbacks of a hospital in Bristol. She'd had a long enough day as it was, she really didn't need to add unpleasant memories of half-dead friends and hospital basements to the mix.
In short, she just wanted to go home.
"Good news, mommy," the doctor announced to Charmaine as she breezed back into the room, paperwork in hand. "Peanut is fine. It hasn't even dropped yet." Charmaine made a sound that was almost disappointed. "And your cervix is still tight as a drum."
"Can you put that in layman's terms, doctor?" Kate drawled, mostly for Marshall's benefit. The were sitting on the empty bed next to their aunt's, while Tara sat by Charmaine's bedside holding her hand, like the good sister she was. Neil and Max were yet to show up. "But what about the pain?" Charmaine complained. Like you might actually expect someonewearing a cheap plastic tiara to do, in her situation. "I was totally contracting."
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "They're Braxton Hicks. Pre-labor contractions, which you learned about in your childbirth classes?"
Kate wanted to snort. It was a pain, trying to get Charmaine to go those classes. She may have been a pregnant thirtysomething but she could still act like a high school slacker. "Yeah, I did," Charmaine said, so obviously lying. "Made me think." The doctor left to go get her checked out of the hospital so they'd all be able to go home, and that was about when Neil finally showed up, looking anxious.
"Y-you're... you're okay?" was his very logical first question. "The baby's okay?"
"Yeah. It was false labor. Wah, wah."
"Thank God." Neil seemed visibly relieved at that knowledge. "Um." He hesitated for a moment, then looked over at their little crowd, gathered there. "Can I have a-a moment with the mother of my child, please?"
They had no objections, so they filed out. Tara, Max, Kate, Marshall, Ted, all of the ragtag bunch.
"I'm gonna go out and get some air," Kate told the others. "Meet me out front, okay?" She didn't stay and listen to any comments or objections. She really did want some fresh air. This day was utterly, utterly fired, and she didn't want to spend another minute around the sights and smells that made her remember things she'd rather not. She'd had enough of that already.
Once outside, she turned her cellphone back on, then scrolled absently through her contact list. Was any of this something to report to the world? Maybe not.
[ooc: NFB, but can be open should you wish it to be. Adapted from USoT S03E01, still.]
And she was practically on fire at the interview proper. Bubbling with energy. "And this is what's refreshing about me," she declared. "I am the only person that you are gonna meet here today who isn't lying on her resumé. What's the point? Yeah, I didn't go to college. Yeah, my high school transcript reads a little weird. Yeah, I worked at Barnabeez on Shawnee Mission Parkway and had to sue for sexual harassment, but that was only because my boss was insane!"
She gave only half a second's thought to whether she'd grinned a little too widely during that last bit. No matter, she pressed straight on, leaning forwards toward the interviewer, a thirty-something guy who... really did not look cool enough for a fashion magazine, but she'd deal. "This is what you get with me," she said, and emphasized her points with her hands. "I am smart. I am dedicated. I could write about fashion." She leaned back again, as relaxed as she could pretend to be. "I could write the hell out of this magazine."
At least the guy was smiling, though he had a correction to make. "This isn't a writer's position," he said. "It's... administrative."
Oh. "But I could get there, is what I'm saying," Kate replied, recovering quickly. "This is who I am," she added, smiling. "I'm telling you everything. You can trust me to do a good job because this is me!"
The guy, still smiling, held a finger up as if to make her pause for a bit as he turned towards his computer. Then he turned the screen so she'd see too. "Is this also you?" he asked, as he pressed play on an internet video.
A video of an utterly, terrifyingly familiar figure in tight metallic shorts and a plastic breastplate and wig that had weighed a tonne. A second-rate valkyrie.
And she was sitting down on a cake.
"... Oh."
Fuck.
So, yeah. That was Kate's day pretty much ruined, right there. Beyond embarrassed, she'd basically fleen from the interview after that little incident, and gone home where she'd changed clothes and unloaded a slightly edited version of the horror story to her (at least somewhat) sympathetic mother and brother. The former had then decided they all needed to go out for a bite to eat as an effort at boosting their collective morale. And Kate had been so busy wallowing in her angst that by the time she realized they were at Barnabeez, it was too late to do anything about it. So now she had even more of a reason to feel nauseous. That was just great. Just great.
"Why are you so bummed out?" Marshall wondered, once they'd been seated and each had an ice water and a menu. "It was one interview for a fashion magazine in Kansas. Okay? This is a place where girls wear KU sweatshirts to prom."
"Internet is evil, Moosh," Kate replied, scowling over at him. "Every stupid thing I've ever done might as well be tattooed on my fucking head." She rubbed her forehead and looked down at the menu. Ugh, she hated everything on that stupid thing. "If I'd known we were going to Barnabeez I would've just stayed home. Everything about this place makes my stomach churn."
Marshall leaned over, tapping a finger against one item on her menu. "Even the deep-fried BarnaBrats?"
Kate supposed he was trying to cheer her up, in his own way. It was the only reason he didn't get glared at. "Depends," she drawled. "Do you like chewing on a shit-filled condom?" Her mother admonished her for that, but it only made her turn towards Tara to explain herself. "Here's the Barnabeez lowdown... Anything that says 'fresh seafood' is made from this rubbery white fish flab. In the kitchen, they have these cookie cutters shaped like a clam, and a crab leg, and a shrimp..." Seriously, how had she ever worked here? "Whatever. And there's these... delicious sprays.... Ugh. It's just nauseating."
It was the theme of the day.
Tara looked uncomfortable and glanced around. "Do they serve alcohol here? I need a drink."
"Tell me about it," Kate sighed.
"Aren't you writing that paper tonight, Mom?" Marshall asked. "How's it going?"
"Honestly? Not great." Tara shook her head. "I had a few moments today where I thought, 'God, what have I done? What if I can't pull this off? What if I'm already everything I'm ever gonna be?'"
Which was what every kid wanted to hear, sure. "Okay, stop," Kate said, straightening up in her seat a little to frown at her mom. "You can't talk like that, Mom. Because if you've never done anything and you're old, what does that mean for us?" Geez, she was already having major doubts about her future, and she really didn't need Tara adding to that. "I mean, am I gonna be sitting here in this same booth 20 years from now, bumming out my beautiful daughter --" She put her arm around Marshall's shoulders and gestured at the restaurant at large with her free hand "-- and gay son about all the things I never did?"
Tara smiled wryly, and it could've been a beautiful little bonding moment, if not for the voice of a girl from somewhere nearby. "Kate? Kate Gregson?" Kate turned towards the voice, and saw a girl in a Barnabeez uniform. Her recollections were fuzzy but she was pretty sure the girl had been maybe a trainee when she'd quit. Shoulders tightening, Kate felt instantly on edge at being recognized here of all places. Shouldn't have come here. She knew it.
"Everyone in the back thought it was you, but I didn't think it was possible," the girl said. She leaned towards Kate, lowering her voice, like something was a secret. Her eyes were big and earnest. "Somebody said you're like, a spy or something."' Oh, the old CSR job. That sounded so much better than what Kate had going for her right now that she ended up affecting a secretive look as she sipped her ice water and said, "Well, I can't really talk about it right now..."
"Oh." The girl sounded disappointed. But, she picked up the plate she had on her tray. "Hey, someone sent back this crab leg supreme." She set the plate down in front of Kate, like an offering. "Now, you've got to tell me something about your life. I won't say a word."
Kate barely heard her. Looking down at the plate, then up at the girl she had to swallow the taste of bile back down. Really shouldn't have come here. She thought that even before a handful of other servers flocked to the table. "I told you it was her," one of them boasted to the others before even talking to Kate. "I'd recognize you anywhere." That wasn't creepy at all. "Hey, Kate," he added, a little more excitedly, "I saw this video online, of this girl sitting on a cake --"
And that was when Kate puked on the table.
An hour or so later, and they were at the hospital. Not for Kate, obviously. While she'd been out with Marshall and Tara, Charmaine had been home alone, and had started having contractions, and since Neil and Max had been out having a beer, apparently she'd ran down the street to Ted's house and freaked the shit out of him before making him take her to the hospital.
And now it looked like she wasn't even in labor, so basically, Kate was enduring yet another super uncomfortable situation today for nothing. And yeah, yeah, she was going to feel bad for her self-centeredness later, but for now? She hated hospitals. All the white surfaces and detergent smells were making her get flashbacks of a hospital in Bristol. She'd had a long enough day as it was, she really didn't need to add unpleasant memories of half-dead friends and hospital basements to the mix.
In short, she just wanted to go home.
"Good news, mommy," the doctor announced to Charmaine as she breezed back into the room, paperwork in hand. "Peanut is fine. It hasn't even dropped yet." Charmaine made a sound that was almost disappointed. "And your cervix is still tight as a drum."
"Can you put that in layman's terms, doctor?" Kate drawled, mostly for Marshall's benefit. The were sitting on the empty bed next to their aunt's, while Tara sat by Charmaine's bedside holding her hand, like the good sister she was. Neil and Max were yet to show up. "But what about the pain?" Charmaine complained. Like you might actually expect someonewearing a cheap plastic tiara to do, in her situation. "I was totally contracting."
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "They're Braxton Hicks. Pre-labor contractions, which you learned about in your childbirth classes?"
Kate wanted to snort. It was a pain, trying to get Charmaine to go those classes. She may have been a pregnant thirtysomething but she could still act like a high school slacker. "Yeah, I did," Charmaine said, so obviously lying. "Made me think." The doctor left to go get her checked out of the hospital so they'd all be able to go home, and that was about when Neil finally showed up, looking anxious.
"Y-you're... you're okay?" was his very logical first question. "The baby's okay?"
"Yeah. It was false labor. Wah, wah."
"Thank God." Neil seemed visibly relieved at that knowledge. "Um." He hesitated for a moment, then looked over at their little crowd, gathered there. "Can I have a-a moment with the mother of my child, please?"
They had no objections, so they filed out. Tara, Max, Kate, Marshall, Ted, all of the ragtag bunch.
"I'm gonna go out and get some air," Kate told the others. "Meet me out front, okay?" She didn't stay and listen to any comments or objections. She really did want some fresh air. This day was utterly, utterly fired, and she didn't want to spend another minute around the sights and smells that made her remember things she'd rather not. She'd had enough of that already.
Once outside, she turned her cellphone back on, then scrolled absently through her contact list. Was any of this something to report to the world? Maybe not.
[ooc: NFB, but can be open should you wish it to be. Adapted from USoT S03E01, still.]