Cell Phone Cell

Was it worth it? She hardly liked the taste, would probably not even get it down with the knot growing in her stomach reaching up to her throat. She zoomed in on herself. Cute? Could it be cuter. She glanced toward the clock then the door. Two minutes before her interview. Having no idea what the recruiter looked like she took the risk and took another selfie with her Pumpkin Spice Latte, then zoomed in. Yeah. Cuter. She posted it.

“Katelyn?”

An older woman stood over her, seemingly to appear out of nowhere. Startled, trying to regain her composure, she slipped her phone into her bag and stood.

“Yes. Mrs. Conner?” She extended her hand.

“Oh, please call me Marie and have a seat.”

Katelyn sat down thankful for the so far, so casual feeling of the interviewer. Her mind slipped to the selfie she just took. She clicked to post it, didn’t she? She didn’t get to see it online when she tossed the phone into her bag quickly. Hope it posted. Hope it appeared in the feed of her followers. She didn’t want to lose the moment, her outrageously overpriced drink filled up to the brim, her pre-interview jitters creating just enough excitement in her eyes to capture that look.

“Nice to meet you, Marie.” She did click to post it, didn’t she?

“So, Katelyn, tell me a bit about yourself and why you want to work for Visionary.”

As Katelyn recited the carefully scripted speech she and her mother had prepared, her thoughts were elsewhere. How many people viewed her post already? Did they think she looked cute? Wait. What if this woman, this “Call me Marie” woman searched for her right after the interview. What would she find? She couldn’t remember. Scroll, Katelyn, scroll. In her mind’s eye she went back in time to the morning getting ready for her interview, selfie at the closet, another in the interview outfit. Scrolling further back to last night out with the girls. Cute outfit, nothing too revealing hopefully. Some drinks. Met up with Michael for more drinks. 

She remembered the loud music, dancing, doing shots. “Here’s to the new job, baby, and your last night being broke and unemployed.” More shots. She must have posted but had no idea what.

If she could just take a look. A small look, a glance, a peek to see if all was cool on her feed, she would feel better. She could always delete what “Call me Marie” might not approve of. One click and “poof”, gone. 

Did anyone like her Pumpkin Spice Latte post? She did look cute, glad she retook the photo. How many likes did she get already? 

“Call me Marie” was rambling on about hours and benefits. 

Katelyn’s leg started its dance under the table pumping up and down with nervous energy. Did she click or not? Was the post up or not? If only she could take out her phone to look she would feel better.

“So, Katelyn, do you have any questions?”

Everyone said to ask questions. It shows interest, signs of intelligence, curiosity. Google the business and prepare an appropriate question. She was blank. The last task on her to-do list was brushed aside by the stream of comments on her “Going on an interview – wish me luck” post. 

“Ummm…” Oh no, the dreaded ummm. The worst answer ever. She was better than that. Her leg shook faster up and down under the table. She was losing her mojo.

“Call me Marie” was staring at her waiting for an answer or, in this case, a question. Think, think. Say anything. 

“How long have you been working at Visionary?” Ok, it was something, an actual question.

“Sixteen years, can you believe that? Time goes so fast. You must have been in elementary school when I started this job. Before all of this technology when life was simple. Look around, everyone on their phones, how crazy is that?”

Katelyn looked at the customers happily drinking their outrageously overpriced drinks while scrolling on their social media platforms. Surely she must have a few likes on her post by now. When can she check? Craning her neck, she glanced over to see what the girls at the next table were looking at. Whatever it was they were enjoying the hell out of it. Hopefully this interview would be over soon allowing her to get back to reality.

“Marie? Is that you? Oh my gosh, how hilarious! I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Call me Marie” stood to greet this stranger, this “Oh my gosh, how hilarious” stranger. Katelyn made a quick calculation and gave herself the ok. She reached for her phone and did her much needed check. Yup, there it was. And it was cute just like she had hoped. But wait. No likes. None. Her stomach clenched.

“Katelyn? Everything ok?” Her calculations were off; the “Oh my gosh, how hilarious” stranger was off and running, the interview back on. She had no likes. None. 

Fighting to keep up appearances she forced her lack of likes to the back of her mind focusing her attention on her current situation. Her leg started it’s shake again, pumping her up to sit straighter, taller like the jack pumps up the car to replace the flat tire.

“Yes, Marie. The job sounds like a wonderful opportunity. I would be a great asset to your company.” Mom, did you hear that?  I’m channeling you.

“Call me Marie” smiled. “I couldn’t agree with you more. We’ll be in touch.” She stood up once again, the final time, signaling the end of their meeting.

No likes? She must have a few by now. At least one or two.

“Thank you, Marie. It was a pleasure.” LOL, Mom, a pleasure. Can’t wait to text you that I used that line.

She was alone at the table. Blissfully alone. She took out her phone in anticipation, trying to predict who was the first to comment on her Pumpkin Spice Latte and what she would in turn comment back. Nothing. No comments. Heart racing, ears burning she scrolled faster and faster, hitting refresh, refresh, refresh, checking her bars. Did she even have a signal?  The bars were there, weak but enough to grant her entry into her cell.

Looking into the half empty cup she wondered if she should post a new picture. Would she look like she has no life? Full cup, then half a cup with nothing in between. Why didn’t she get any comments, any likes? What was happening? Was there something she didn’t know about? Someone badmouthed her, gossiped about her, made something up to turn people against her? She felt clammy under her cute new top that she had bought for the interview.

Driving home she had her phone plugged in listening for notifications fighting the urge to scroll while she drove. One glance was all she needed. Just to see. Someone must have hit like by now. How hard was it to tap ‘like’ on her photo. She didn’t even care if there were comments or not. A like would be enough.

The interview wiped clean from her mind, the plans for the rest of the day, the to-do list, the text she planned to send her mom deleted.  That void invited the desperation, the isolation, the feeling of insecurity. What did she do to turn everyone off? 

She hardly saw the cars around her, streaming past her in their own lanes like scrolling feeds to her left and right, her own personal feed centered between them.   

The traffic lights turning from red to green and yellow, emojis of red hearts to green and thumbs up as she drove blindly, on automatic.

She had to know. She reached for her phone, swerving at the blast of the horn next to her as her heart jumped out of her chest. Regaining control she pulled over onto the shoulder praying for bars.

No likes. No comments. 

Self-doubt grew stronger. Why would she post that? Who would even care that she was in a café? Even worse, she was alone. Who sits in a café alone? Someone with no friends. Someone pathetic like herself. Self-doubt grew weaker as her status updated, changing to self-loathing. She was worthless. A loser taking a picture of an overpriced latte that she spent her last six dollars on.

She studied her photo, zoomed in to fill up the tiny screen. What was that dot? Something in her teeth? She shuddered, sitting up taller to grimace into the rearview mirror. Looking from her teeth to her eyes she saw herself stare back, a stranger sitting on the side of the road. Her eyeliner smeared, her mascara running as if she had been crying. Had she been crying? Maybe.

She sat in silence unable to move. A prisoner of her own making trapped by a small 3 x 6 cell. A traditional prison cell with similar dimensions measured in feet rather than inches would hold the same power over her, trapping her within its confines taking away her freedom. One cell with bars cold and metal, the other with bars just as strong yet nontangible.

And then miraculously a buzz, a notification, a like.  Dopamine mixed with relief spread throughout her body. She exhaled slowly and smiled. Turning up the music, she clicked on her blinker and got back on the road.