New York Nights
Page 94
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Write later...
Actually, no. I won’t. This is the last post I’ll write here for a very long time.
Gillian
GT
**Taylor G.**
1 comment posted:
KayTROLL: What you did was not only hurtful, but it was also selfish, immature, and incredibly STUPID. Did you really think that you wouldn’t get fired for doing something like that? I saw what you were plotting before you deleted it Tuesday, and I thought you’d know better than to go through with it. At least you’re only 25. You have plenty of time to grow the fuck up. Grow. The. Fuck. Up!
GATE A6
GILLIAN
New York (JFK) Jake’s demanding words played in my mind for the umpteenth time as my fingers strummed my swollen clit, as I orgasmed for the third time since the night he fucked me. My nipples hardened as a cold draft of night air blew against them, so I pulled the blanket over my body and rolled over. I tightened my grip around my pillow, envisioning Jake taking me all over again, but just as I was about to replay our night all over again, my cell phone rang.
I didn’t bother looking to see who it was. I groped its frame and hit the side key to silence it.
Minutes later, it rang again and I groaned—silencing it once more. It was no use. It rang again—sounding even louder this time, and I forced myself to look at the screen. Unknown number.
“Hello?” I didn’t attempt to hide the annoyance in my voice.
“Why aren’t you at the airport, Miss Taylor?”
“What?” I sat up. “Who is this?”
“This is scheduling with Elite Air.” She hissed. “And unless I have the wrong number for Gillian Taylor, which, I’m sure I don’t, I need you to answer me. Now. Why aren’t you at the airport?”
“I’m not...” I hit my lamplight and glanced at my alarm clock. It was only five in the morning. “I’m not scheduled to fly out until Thursday. A turn to Philly and then Reagan International.”
“No, you are scheduled.” She snapped. “For a very important meeting. We sent you two emails this weekend, updated your employee portal, and left a voicemail yesterday regarding the change.”
I swallowed. I’d thought nothing of those normal update emails, deleting them as soon as they appeared. I started thinking of possible excuses I could give as to why I hadn’t listened to them or bothered to check my status for an entire weekend, but the woman on the line beat me to it.
“You have an hour to get to JFK,” she said, “Come in uniform to the conference room in terminal six.” She hung up without another word.
***
Fifty minutes later, I pushed my way to the front of the city bus and nearly ran into a family of four attempting to get inside the airport. I headed straight for the crew line at security—holding up my badge as the TSA agents waved me through.
Please don’t let me be late. Please don’t let me be late...
I rushed from terminal to terminal, adjusting my neck scarf with every step, frantically counting down the seconds in my mind. By the time I made it to the conference room, I had exactly one minute to spare.
There were twenty other flight attendants inside, all dressed in the same Elite Airways issued navy blue blazers and skirts. Every set of lips was stained in the same shade of Chanel red, every bun was perfectly coifed and positioned to the right, and every wrist bore the official glittering bracelet with the company’s signature charms: A white dove and a globe.
I spotted an empty seat near the back of the room and made my way over. Before I could ask the girl next to me if she’d received a phone call this morning as well, the door opened and a beautiful African American woman walked into the room.
Dressed in a form fitting navy blue dress and dark grey heels, she flipped her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. Her hazel eyes scanned the room as she took her place at a centered podium. Her lips were stained in a light pink, and from the way she smiled her set of pearly whites, she reminded me of the picture perfect models in all the Elite Airways commercials.
She took a folder out of her bag and looked directly at us. “Good morning, welcome to the meeting, and shut the hell up.”
The room fell silent.
“My name is Alicia Connors and I am a fifteen-year veteran and senior purser for Elite Airways,” she said. “I’ve been flying for the airline since I was fresh out of college, and although I enjoy it very much, this is honestly the one part of my job that I couldn’t care any less about. That said, since I am the only flight attendant here who has ever—” She suddenly stopped talking and stared at something across the room.
Taking a deep and exaggerated breath, she walked over to a woman in the front row and tapped her on the head. “Excuse me. You. Yes, you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I was...” The woman’s face turned red as she looked up. “I was sending one last text to my boyfriend.”
“In the middle of me talking?”
“I...”
“Does your boyfriend cut your checks at this airline?” Miss Connors asked. “Is he the one holding this meeting right now?”
“I’m...I’m sorry...”
“Yes, you are sorry.” She snatched the woman’s cell phone and held it up to her face, reading the text aloud. “Hey, baby. As soon as you get out of your meeting, have your pussy ready for me. Make sure it’s soaking wet...” She shook her head. “Yes, I can definitely see why this message was far more important than what I had to say.”
She tossed the phone into the trash can and rolled her eyes. “You are on my shit list for the rest of this session,” she said. “And since your sexting was so important, you’ve just cost this entire class my very interesting and in-depth background story that would’ve landed you on my good side. At least, temporarily.”
“I really am sorry.”
“Save it.” She rolled her eyes. “Mindless repetition does not impress me.” She returned to her place at the center of the room and silently counted us, writing a few words down on her clipboard. “Does anyone have any idea why you were asked to be here today?”
She looked around the room, but no one raised a hand. “Interesting. You’re here because you’re the least important employees we currently have on the payroll. You are the bottom feeders and the trolls, but since we have successfully completed the buyout of three mid-sized airlines, we are finally upgrading last year’s pond scum from reserve attendants to full time flight attendants.”
There was a brief buzz of excitement that filled the room—a couple of whispered yeses, a few murmurs of “Finally...”
“Within the next ten days,” she said, “If you’re interested in staying with us, you’ll receive an updated line, i.e. your new schedule that will tell you when and where you’ll be flying over the next few weeks. And before you ask, yes, I’m more than aware of how scheduling is done at other airlines, but this is not other airlines, so spare me your thoughts and unwanted opinions. If you have another job, I suggest you put in your notice to quit it ASAP. You won’t have time to hold it anymore. Any questions?”
A few hands flew into the air.
Actually, no. I won’t. This is the last post I’ll write here for a very long time.
Gillian
GT
**Taylor G.**
1 comment posted:
KayTROLL: What you did was not only hurtful, but it was also selfish, immature, and incredibly STUPID. Did you really think that you wouldn’t get fired for doing something like that? I saw what you were plotting before you deleted it Tuesday, and I thought you’d know better than to go through with it. At least you’re only 25. You have plenty of time to grow the fuck up. Grow. The. Fuck. Up!
GATE A6
GILLIAN
New York (JFK) Jake’s demanding words played in my mind for the umpteenth time as my fingers strummed my swollen clit, as I orgasmed for the third time since the night he fucked me. My nipples hardened as a cold draft of night air blew against them, so I pulled the blanket over my body and rolled over. I tightened my grip around my pillow, envisioning Jake taking me all over again, but just as I was about to replay our night all over again, my cell phone rang.
I didn’t bother looking to see who it was. I groped its frame and hit the side key to silence it.
Minutes later, it rang again and I groaned—silencing it once more. It was no use. It rang again—sounding even louder this time, and I forced myself to look at the screen. Unknown number.
“Hello?” I didn’t attempt to hide the annoyance in my voice.
“Why aren’t you at the airport, Miss Taylor?”
“What?” I sat up. “Who is this?”
“This is scheduling with Elite Air.” She hissed. “And unless I have the wrong number for Gillian Taylor, which, I’m sure I don’t, I need you to answer me. Now. Why aren’t you at the airport?”
“I’m not...” I hit my lamplight and glanced at my alarm clock. It was only five in the morning. “I’m not scheduled to fly out until Thursday. A turn to Philly and then Reagan International.”
“No, you are scheduled.” She snapped. “For a very important meeting. We sent you two emails this weekend, updated your employee portal, and left a voicemail yesterday regarding the change.”
I swallowed. I’d thought nothing of those normal update emails, deleting them as soon as they appeared. I started thinking of possible excuses I could give as to why I hadn’t listened to them or bothered to check my status for an entire weekend, but the woman on the line beat me to it.
“You have an hour to get to JFK,” she said, “Come in uniform to the conference room in terminal six.” She hung up without another word.
***
Fifty minutes later, I pushed my way to the front of the city bus and nearly ran into a family of four attempting to get inside the airport. I headed straight for the crew line at security—holding up my badge as the TSA agents waved me through.
Please don’t let me be late. Please don’t let me be late...
I rushed from terminal to terminal, adjusting my neck scarf with every step, frantically counting down the seconds in my mind. By the time I made it to the conference room, I had exactly one minute to spare.
There were twenty other flight attendants inside, all dressed in the same Elite Airways issued navy blue blazers and skirts. Every set of lips was stained in the same shade of Chanel red, every bun was perfectly coifed and positioned to the right, and every wrist bore the official glittering bracelet with the company’s signature charms: A white dove and a globe.
I spotted an empty seat near the back of the room and made my way over. Before I could ask the girl next to me if she’d received a phone call this morning as well, the door opened and a beautiful African American woman walked into the room.
Dressed in a form fitting navy blue dress and dark grey heels, she flipped her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. Her hazel eyes scanned the room as she took her place at a centered podium. Her lips were stained in a light pink, and from the way she smiled her set of pearly whites, she reminded me of the picture perfect models in all the Elite Airways commercials.
She took a folder out of her bag and looked directly at us. “Good morning, welcome to the meeting, and shut the hell up.”
The room fell silent.
“My name is Alicia Connors and I am a fifteen-year veteran and senior purser for Elite Airways,” she said. “I’ve been flying for the airline since I was fresh out of college, and although I enjoy it very much, this is honestly the one part of my job that I couldn’t care any less about. That said, since I am the only flight attendant here who has ever—” She suddenly stopped talking and stared at something across the room.
Taking a deep and exaggerated breath, she walked over to a woman in the front row and tapped her on the head. “Excuse me. You. Yes, you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I was...” The woman’s face turned red as she looked up. “I was sending one last text to my boyfriend.”
“In the middle of me talking?”
“I...”
“Does your boyfriend cut your checks at this airline?” Miss Connors asked. “Is he the one holding this meeting right now?”
“I’m...I’m sorry...”
“Yes, you are sorry.” She snatched the woman’s cell phone and held it up to her face, reading the text aloud. “Hey, baby. As soon as you get out of your meeting, have your pussy ready for me. Make sure it’s soaking wet...” She shook her head. “Yes, I can definitely see why this message was far more important than what I had to say.”
She tossed the phone into the trash can and rolled her eyes. “You are on my shit list for the rest of this session,” she said. “And since your sexting was so important, you’ve just cost this entire class my very interesting and in-depth background story that would’ve landed you on my good side. At least, temporarily.”
“I really am sorry.”
“Save it.” She rolled her eyes. “Mindless repetition does not impress me.” She returned to her place at the center of the room and silently counted us, writing a few words down on her clipboard. “Does anyone have any idea why you were asked to be here today?”
She looked around the room, but no one raised a hand. “Interesting. You’re here because you’re the least important employees we currently have on the payroll. You are the bottom feeders and the trolls, but since we have successfully completed the buyout of three mid-sized airlines, we are finally upgrading last year’s pond scum from reserve attendants to full time flight attendants.”
There was a brief buzz of excitement that filled the room—a couple of whispered yeses, a few murmurs of “Finally...”
“Within the next ten days,” she said, “If you’re interested in staying with us, you’ll receive an updated line, i.e. your new schedule that will tell you when and where you’ll be flying over the next few weeks. And before you ask, yes, I’m more than aware of how scheduling is done at other airlines, but this is not other airlines, so spare me your thoughts and unwanted opinions. If you have another job, I suggest you put in your notice to quit it ASAP. You won’t have time to hold it anymore. Any questions?”
A few hands flew into the air.
