The Sales Associate

Corrinne stirred, waking up to her alarm one eye at a time, reaching to stop the demanding green light flashing on her clock. She sat at the edge of her bed, pulling her mind from dreams to reality and the demands of her Saturday. In the restroom, as she looked in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose, squinting to try and find a flicker of the fire at the prospect of the possibilities of a new day. She decided not to waste time on such things and pulled her hair into a tight, sensible ponytail and pulled her itchy pantsuit from the wardrobe along with the company logo t-shirt. She threw a forgettable frozen lunch into her bag and pulled turkey from the freezer to thaw, embarrassed that she had once considered being a chef, and headed for the car.

They made the announcement yesterday about her promotion to lead sales associate and gave her a lanyard to wear around her neck like an Olympic gold medal. It came with a raise, a parking spot and a cubicle with a view. Actually, she didn't know what she did different from everyone else. They all got the same script to read to each customer and the same suggestions of plans and premiums to recommend. She never veered from the script or gave her own opinions or advice. She just read from the script. The lanyard hug from her rear view mirror either mocking her or motivating her - she couldn't tell which. As she pulled from the driveway, wistful memories of her time at the culinary institute caught up with her - the friends she made - one of which just called yesterday, the rush of discovering recipes that could feed body and soul and the accomplishment of presenting a beautiful, delectable dish in the allotted time. Just as quickly, the criticism of family and friends telling her to find something more stable, secure and lasting loomed in her memory.

She listened to them and they were thrilled to learn she'd landed a job with one of the most prestigious insurance companies in the country. She looked at the swaying trinket again and wondered if it had been wise to trade six years of her life for it. She didn't answer that. As usual, traffic eventually came to a jammed standstill. Normally, she would spend this time practicing the smile they say could be heard over the telephone. Today, she looked for inspiration.

Her eyes wandered to the left into a freshly washed beamer, where a fifty-something loosened his tie as he frustratingly talked on his mobile. He grabbed papers from his briefcase, looked at them, threw them down, yelled and fruitlessly honked his horn at the person in front of him. Corrinne turned to her right to see a minivan holding an exhausted mom with two of her children in the backseat, taking turns hitting each other with their backpacks. Her hands death-gripped the wheel as she spoke carefully to the children who both froze mid-swing and sunk into their respective seats. So much for inspiration.

The traffic gradually inched forward and Corrinne found herself at the light that just turned red. Out of nowhere a motorcycle zoomed past her passenger window and into the passing traffic. She heard the screeching tires, when the car hit the bike and when the truck hit the car from behind. She'd seen accidents in passing, but this one jarred something loose inside of her. The rider lay lifeless, the car driver rested her bleeding head on the wheel and the truck driver was calling someone on his cb radio. As people rushed to the scene, Corrinne sat stunned. Sirens made her come to and she noticed her cheeks wet with tears. Officers came to direct the traffic and Corrinne looked up just in time to see the light flash green. She took it as permission and resolutely navigated her vehicle, pulled to the shoulder and made two calls. Then she stopped by the grocery store, went home, took off her itchy suit, threw the t-shirt with the logo into the trash, let down her hair and began to cook.