Meg Cabot - Boy Meets Girl

SH: Isn’t it true, Ms. Mackenzie, that you and the entire staff of the New York Journal are so addicted to this woman’s baking that you are lying about not having written that letter of warning in order to afford her a loophole with which she might win back her post?

KM: No!

MH: Stuart. Come on.

SH: Isn’t it true that your dislike of Amy Jenkins is so strong that you would do anything to get her into trouble with her superiors—such as deny having written a document that has what even you stated appears to be your signature on it?

KM: No! I mean, yes, it looks like my signature, but it’s not. I never even got a chance to finish writing it. Amy e-mailed me and said—

SH: That’s all. No more questions.

KM: But it’s not true. About the letter. I mean—

SH: I said no more questions, Ms. Mackenzie.

MH: I have a question for you, Stuart. How do you sleep at night?

SH: Better than you will, when Dad hears about this. Come on, Amy. We’re done here.

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

I’m in trouble. BIG trouble.

Oh my God. Oh my God, I don’t understand any of this. Mitch says it’s nothing, but I think he’s just saying that to make me feel better. It’s not nothing. It’s clearly not nothing. I mean, my boss just accused me of being a liar. How can that be nothing?

And I can see how from her point of view it would be more beneficial for me to be perceived as a liar than, you know, her. Which is basically what she is. I mean, ONE of us is lying, and if it’s not me, it has to be her. Because I certainly never wrote that letter, and I certainly never had Mrs. Lopez sign it.

So who did?

At least I have Mrs. Lopez to back me up. She says she didn’t sign it either.

Except . . .

I’m sorry, Mrs. Lopez is very sweet, but she’s not the most reliable witness. I mean, she definitely has an agenda, which is getting her job back. Mine is apparently that I want to get back at AMY, but for what? I mean, it’s true I think she’s a big, shallow loser and it’s true we call her the T.O.D., but how did she find out? Jen’s going to freak when she hears Amy knows, and the last thing I want is to freak out Jen, she’s got enough problems as it is with the fertility thing and—

OH!!! I’ve got to get control of myself. Think about something other than Stuart Hertzog. Think about kittens and rainbows. Oh yuck, that won’t work. Think about the Travel Channel. Yes, the Travel Channel, teal blue seas and yawning blue sky overhead, little huts on stilts above the water, like in Bali . . .

Oh my God, I can’t believe my boss basically accused me of being a liar in front of Mitch Hertzog, the one person in the world I wanted to impress with my cool professionalism. So far I’ve blathered about chicken and garlic sauce to him, had my ex-boyfriend THROW chicken in garlic sauce on him, nearly gotten sick in front of him, had my ex sing ballads in front of him, and now my boss is calling me a liar in front of him. . . .

Mitch says all I have to do is go back to my office and find the e-mail Amy sent me—the one telling me to skip the written warning—and forward it to him. Also forward him the draft of the letter I was writing to Mrs. Lopez but never finished. He seems to think this will make everything all right.

But how will it make everything all right? Sure, it’ll prove I didn’t have anything to do with that letter. But it won’t help the Journal win Mrs. Lopez’s case against it. And isn’t Mitch supposed to be on the paper’s side, not Mrs. Lopez’s? I mean, isn’t the Journal paying his fees?

But it’s like . . . it’s like he wants Mrs. Lopez to win. Like he set up this whole thing to make Amy look like the big, fat liar she is.

Which is fine, except that . . .

Amy KNOWS we call her the T.O.D. She KNOWS.

I mean, that’s not going to make working with her slightly UNCOMFORTABLE or anything. . . .

Oh, WHY did we ever start calling her that? I mean, she IS a tyrannical office despot, but we ought to have kept it to ourselves. It isn’t nice to call people names, even if they deserve it. All human beings have worth and dignity, that’s what Professor Wingblade always said. All human beings have worth and dignity. Except maybe for Nazis. And Al-Qaeda. And tyrannical office despots. . . .

STOP IT! Amy is not as bad as Hitler! She hasn’t killed anyone.

THAT WE KNOW OF.

I will never call her the T.O.D. again. I will never call her the T.O.D. again. I will never call her the T.O.D. again. I will—

Oh, God, my cab is a block away from 216 W. 57th even as I write. Please God, don’t let Amy be there when I walk in. Please let me get to my desk and forward the e-mail and the draft and get my stuff and go home sick for the rest of the day. . . . Please please please please please . . .

$4.50, plus $1 tip for cab. Don’t forget to send the T.O.D. a reimbursement form!

Wait . . . Why is Carl Hopkins standing by the door?

THE NEW YORK JOURNAL

New York City’s Leading Photo-Newspaper

Security Division

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

MEMO

To: All Personnel

Fr: Security Administration

Re: Persona Non Grata

Persona Non Grata Notification

Please note that the below-named individual has been classified “persona non grata” in 216 W. 57th Street as of the date of this notification and will continue to remain so indefinitely. This individual is not to be allowed on the premises of 216 W. 57th Street at any time during the term of above sanction.

Name: Kathleen A. Mackenzie

ID#: 3164-000-6794

Description: (photo attached)

White female, 25 years of age

5 feet, 4 inches, 120130 lbs.

Blonde hair, blue eyes

Contact Security immediately upon sighting of above individual.

cc: Amy Jenkins, Director, Human Resources

Hello, you’ve reached the voice mail of Jennifer Sadler. Sorry I can’t take your call right now. At the tone, please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

(Tone)

Jen? Jen, where are you, it’s Kate. I’m in the lobby downstairs. They won’t let me up. They say I’m PNG’d. I told them there has to be some kind of mistake, but they say there’s not, and they even showed me the form. It says I weigh a hundred twenty to a hundred and thirty pounds. Do I really look like I weigh that much? I only weigh one seventeen. I’ll bet Amy wrote this! That would explain it. . . . Do you know what’s going on? I’m . . . Oh, wait, here comes Amy. She’s holding . . . Oh my God, she’s holding a box of my stuff. That’s my Disneyland snowglobe from on top of my computer monitor. Why does the T.O.D. have my Disneyland snowglobe? Oh . . . my . . . God. . . .

(Click)

THE NEW YORK JOURNAL

New York City’s Leading Photo-Newspaper

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com

Kathleen A. Mackenzie

Personnel Representative

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

This letter serves to inform you that as of today’s date, your employment at the New York Journal has been terminated. Your belongings from your work station have been inventoried and packed. You are to be escorted from the premises by Security, and have been listed as Persona Non Grata at this location. Should you need to speak to anyone regarding the termination of your position at the New York Journal, you will need to do so by telephone. Your initials below indicate receipt of this letter.