Sometimes Nice, Deserving People Win the Lottery Too!

Shaking her head, Rosanne set about cleaning up the kitchen. Honestly, the nerve of Mavis Schuyler asking Rosanne about her life as if Mavis was interested or even cared. Rosanne had been working for that incredibly annoying woman for close to thirty years and this was the first time Mavis had ever asked her if she was happy. And the way she'd ask her--as if no one like Rosanne could possibly be happy. As if only people like Mavis had the right to enjoy life. For two cents, Rosanne would gladly quit working for Mavis and do something more enjoyable--like scrub out the bathrooms at the bus terminal. Really, anything would be better than working for Mavis.

But quitting wasn't really an option. They had a mortgage on the house, car payments, bills coming out their ears. Rosanne didn't have the luxury of quitting and she didn't know where else she could work in Schuyler Square. It wasn't like Rosanne had a learned a lot of job skills keeping the Schuyler house clean. Plus, she was over fifty. Working for Mavis was really the only thing she knew how to do so for the time being she was stuck.

You should feel sorry for Mavis. You know what a silly, vain woman she is and how ridiculous she looks chasing all those younger men. You also know that even though she has more money than she can ever possibly spend, she's also boring and pathetic and an incredible snob. Your life is a zillion times better than her's.

Rosanne felt a less irritated. She did know that Mavis was a fool but it was still hard to take her superior attitude all the time. Well, who know. Maybe someday she could quit. Maybe someday their ship would finally come in and she'd be able to get on board and sail off into the sunset with Mike.

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and Rosanne pulled it out. It was Mike. Instantly, worry filled her. Mike rarely called her at work.

"Hi, honey," she said.

"Rosanne? Are you sitting down?"

Rosanne laughed. "Are you kidding me? I never get to sit down at work. What's the matter? Your voice sounds funny."

Mike laughed too. "Nothing's the matter. Everything's great! Grab your stuff and come home right now."

"Mike, I can't leave work. Mavis would have a fit. Why do you want me to come home?"

"Because you don't work there any longer, honey. We just won the lottery. I want you to march into Mavis Schuyler's living room and tell that old bat that she can take her job and shove it. I'll see you at home."

How to Land a Perfectly Horrible Job

"Mr. Morton, this is Mindy Cooper. She'd applying for the job as your administrative assistant."

Mindy squirmed uncomfortably under the steely gaze her potential boss gave her. She felt like his eyes had become lasers with her body being the target as he looked her up and down and up again, lingering for a few moments longer than she deemed necessary in certain spots. "How do you do, Mr. Morton?"

"What did you say your name is?" His voice was deep and sexy and matched his looks perfectly. Even if Mr. Morton had the most challenging personality in all of Schuyler Square, just being able to gaze at him every day was going to be a treat.

"Mindy Cooper." Mindy began to sweat. Suppose Mr. Morton was an avid reader of the local newspaper and recognized her name? She was fairly well known in town. She should have used a fake name.

"Mindy Cooper. Mindy Cooper. Why does that sound familiar to me?"

Mindy shrugged helplessly as Mr. Morton continued to peer at her intently. "Do you work at the Dairy Queen on the old highway?"

"Certainly not!" Mindy said.

It was Mr. Morton's turn to shrug. "You look just like the gal who always sells me my Dilly Bar. I'm very fond of Dilly Bars." He turned to the HR woman. "When can she start?"

"Tomorrow!" Mindy told him. What kind of place was this? Didn't they want to check her references or do a background check or anything like that? Why anyone at all could walk in off the street and start to work at Kutrate Kemicals. Mindy experienced a stab of disappointment. Maybe the chemical company didn't have anything to hide if it would hire any Tom, Dick or Dilly Bar peddler off the street. Oh, well. Even if I don't get a story out of working here I can earn a little extra cash for Christmas.

"Good. You're hired." Mr. Morton stepped forward and extended his hand. "Welcome aboard, Mindy. You can call me Bernard. Unless I'm mad at you. Then you have to call me Mr. Morton."

Laughing a little uneasily, Mindy shook his hand and looked over at the HR woman to see if she was laughing too. She wasn't. "How will I know if you're mad at me?" she asked.

"Easy," Bernard Morton replied, his handsome face smiling, "I'll call you Ms.Cooper when I'm ticked with you."

"Ummm, wouldn't it be easier just to tell me what I did wrong?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll do that too. Come on, I'll show you where you're going to work. I expect you to be here at 7:30 sharp tomorrow morning. Have my coffee ready. Black with three sugars. Make sure the temperature in the office is exactly 68 degrees and I don't like any dust on my desk so be sure to wipe it off the moment you get your coat off..."

Getting to her feet and following Bernard out of the HR office while listening to his long list of instructions, Mindy realized that there was going to be another perk working at Kutrate Kemicals: it was going to make going back to the newspaper look awfully good.