Tales of a sour baby

Chapter 5

Guinness woke up with a headache. She opened her eyes and shut them back immediately with a very unladylike groan. She sat up against the wall, her eyes still closed and adjusted the pillows behind her back before reaching for her phone to check the time. It was already half past ten in the morning and the device was low on battery, so she plugged it in and got up from bed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a box of Tylenol from a cardboard box on the floor before ingesting the pill and downing the contents of the bottle, instantly feeling fresher.

She went to the bathroom and the sight before her almost made her drop the bottle she was about to refill on the ground. The image in the mirror was one of a tired woman – scratch that – women were human, she looked like a goddamn zombie! Her eyes were glassy and rimmed with dark circles and traces of mascara, similar to those of a panda, well... without the cuteness. The foundation had separated from her skin and was now sitting awkwardly on her skin in oily patches. Her hair was stuck to her scalp with sweat.

“How glamourous” she scoffed to the woman looking back at her in the glass.

She slipped out of yesterday’s clothes and immediately jumped into the shower, not even waiting for the water to warm up.

The young woman shivered under the cold water, appreciating how the coolness was easing her headache. She reached her arm through the shower curtain and grabbed her toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste. She brushed her teeth in the shower while the pouring water was getting progressively warmer. As she scrubbed and massaged her body and hair, she thought about the previous night. She had played things right, but she came too close to losing. Losing her composure. Losing the upper hand. Losing the game.

Guinness came out of the shower and wrapped her body in a towel. She almost gagged when she had to throw her head down to wrap her hair in another towel and quickly straightened back up.

“I am never drinking again.” She lied out loud, her hands clasping the sink for support.

She took the creams and lotions out of the Ziploc bag on the floor and started running them down her skin. From her perspective, everything in life was like a game, every action, every choice, every path, even life itself in more ways than one. It had rules, loopholes, limitations, patterns, surprises, an expiration date, you could win, lose, come out as a tie, play solo or in a team, etc. She realized early on that life didn’t really have purpose, that was wishful thinking. If you wanted or needed one, you had to choose it and make it happen yourself. Her goal? To come out on top. It didn’t have a linear meaning. Sometimes winning meant preserving her peace of mind, sometimes it was about getting what she wanted out of something or someone, sometimes it just meant not losing something. It all depended on the situation she was in. Right now, her aim was to milk rich men out of their wallets so she could live decently, if not comfortably.

As she got dressed, she smiled at the skills she had been cultivating through very careful observation and trial and error. She observed that most people were rather easy to manipulate – or rather influence – into doing, saying or thinking what you wanted or needed them to. The specifics depended on the individual, but even then, the general idea was to frame things in a way that seemed to serve their own interests. She remembered learning about framing theory for the media at university and was fascinated with learning about the specifics. She read everything she could on framing and agenda-setting theories and found everyday life applications for them.

The key was observation: know your target… uh, audience.

She looked at the time, and it was past 11:30am, so she decided to skip breakfast and just have lunch. She never ate much in the morning anyway; a coffee and sometimes a piece of toast or fruit. She pulled a bowl from a plastic box on the floor and opened a pack of instant noodles. She made her way out of the studio and into the hallway to the kitchenette to use the hot water dispenser. She had a kettle in her room, but she had to empty, dry, and put it away after each use from lack of space, so she would rather make the trip down the hall each time, since it only took a minute or so.

After lunch, she still had a few hours before her shift and decided to do some course work while she had the time and some motivation. She turned on her laptop and started a recorded lecture. While the video was loading, she grabbed a mug, put in three teaspoons of instant coffee, one spoon of sugar, and one spoon of instant chocolate powder, filled the cup with milk and went out to the microwave that was just under the hot water dispenser. Maybe it was the European in her, but she had always loved coffee. Or maybe it was the Vietnamese side. Who knew? Vietnamese people enjoyed coffee so much, it wasn’t just a drink, it was also a dessert, and in some cases, it could be considered a snack. Guinness loved her coffee like she felt her heart: tight, dark and bitter. However, she didn’t have the budget to get good coffee in Wellington, so she settled for bags of 80 cents instant coffee that she had to drown in milk and sugar to be drinkable. The coffee reminded her of her life, cheap and dull while promising her something much better than it actually was.

The young woman was brought out of her thoughts when she realized the lecture had ended, and she only took half a page of notes. She grunted in frustration and played it again while sipping her coffee, trying to concentrate this time. She had always had issues with keeping her focus. Her therapist believed she should see a psychiatrist for an ADD diagnosis and potentially medication to help her manage the symptoms, but she didn’t have the time or money to see one and insurance wouldn’t cover it. Plus, she didn’t want a diagnosis. Everyone had been trying to pin a label on her since she was little. In kindergarten, they tried to diagnose her with narcolepsy, which she didn’t have. In primary school, they gave her an IQ test. In middle school, they believed she had dyspraxia, though she just needed glasses. Then, in high school, it had been hyperactivity. And now at university, they told her she might have attention deficit disorder. The only thing that she did have was chronic insomnia. It was also the one thing no one fished for, the same thing her mother and grandmother had, and what caused the kindergarten teachers to believe she was narcoleptic.

“Ah s**t!” she cursed aloud. She got distracted once again and the lecture had ended. Maybe she should make that appointment after all… Nah, no time for that bullshit.

She checked the time on her computer and saw that she still had an hour and a half before it was time for her shift. She loaded the lecture once again, starting it in the middle this time, where she had lost her focus the previous time. She was able to finish taking notes and got up to make one last coffee.

When 5pm was coming close, she closed her laptop, put on her uniform – an ugly ass black vest, her nametag, slipped her keys into the pocket of her vest, grabbed her laptop and hard drive and her cup of coffee and headed out the door at 4:58. She immediately clocked in using the app on her phone as she made her way out and down the stairs. Living on site had its perks.

She headed to the office in the other building, saying “hello” when she passed someone on her way. She used her staff keys to open the office and picked up the final piece of her uniform: the backpack. It was a huge dark blue backpack that was too big for her, uncomfortably so. It was the university’s merchandise brand and contained a checklist of daily tasks and a first aid kit. She then unplugged the service iPhone from the desk and checked that she had everything she needed. She then made her way out and sat in the Common Room, going through the checklist before starting her daily tasks.

It took her about half an hour to complete the initial tasks, which included things like, checking for and answering messages, making sure all common spaces were clean and tidy, and removing old promotional posters from the walls to replace them with new ones. She would have more tasks to complete later, but for now, she could just sit on the couch and wait for someone to call the phone if they needed help.

As she was putting on music on the TV, a few Residents came and went, and she greeted them every time, forcing a smile sometimes, but it was mostly genuine. A lot of those people were nice, after all. She wasn’t one to smile easily. A lot of people had described her as having a “resting b***h face” before, but she couldn’t care less. If she needed to smile, she knew how to.

At 6pm sharp, Cynthia walked into the Common Room with her signature dashing smile that could brighten up a room just by entering it.

“Hey, Guinness.”

“Hi, Beautiful.”

“How’s it been? Anything I need to know?”

“Nope, all clear until now.”

“Great!” Cynthia said, dropping her serious act. “Now I want to know everything that’s happened since last time, give me some good tea.”

When their shifts were uneventful, they used the time to gossip and update each other on their lives, sometimes with their manager too.

Sin was a sweet woman. She was the second oldest on the team after Guinness, being just a few months younger. She had pale skin and long, curly chocolate brown hair that matched her eyes. Her small nose and pink cheeks were covered in freckles. She had a large chest and a set of breasts that would make some supermodels jealous. Her ass was an asset that Guinness found herself envying sometimes. She wasn’t totally flat, but she was far from immune to self-deprecating thoughts, especially when she compared herself to the beautiful ladies she worked with.

“Sin!”

“Oh, come on, girl, don’t play shy with me.”

“Fine.” Guinness replied with a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“How are your financial endeavors going?” She asked, wriggling her brows.

They had to speak in code when they wanted to discuss personal and/or intimate matters, even when they weren’t on the clock since they lived on site. They couldn’t afford a Resident or management eavesdropping or catching a glimpse of the conversation by accident.

“Well, I went on a date with Kevin last night.”

“Oh reaaally?”

“Yup.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“He took me to his place.”

“No!”

“Yes! Can you believe it?!”

“Did you…”

“NO!” She cut Sin off. “I got him to take me home.”

“Damn you're good! And what do you get out of it?”

“For now? Mostly free food and as much gin and wine as I can drink. But my goal is new shoes. The nice type.”

“You are so right.”

“I know I am. Now enough about me, what about you? What have you been up to?”

“Nothing that thrilling.”

They spent the next hour discussing Cynthia’s sister who was wanting to drop out of High School and start working at 16. Guinness genuinely offered to talk to her sister and tell her what that situation was like, the good and the bad, since she had experienced it before. Sin said she’d consider it but for now, her parents were handling it.