Over The Pacific

Kelly and I were in our first class seats at 36,000 feet over the Pacific on our way home and I was working on my second glass of wine when I opened my iPad. I had my contract saved on it in pdf format and, for the first time, began reading it word for word and line by line. About an hour later I closed it and sat back in my seat in despair. I am so screwed, I thought to myself. It was even worse than I thought.

Not only was I on the hook to pay back the money for the student loans, with interest, there was also a buyout clause that would **** me to pay an additional $50,000 for early termination of the contract. I did some back of the envelope calculations and figured it would cost me nearly $200,000 to get out of it, and that's only if I paid it off right away. If I had to pay it off over time the interest fees and penalties could easily push it to over $300,000 or more.

There were also references to my duties and dress code that made it clear that the company was free to determine both for me. If I failed to satisfactorily carry out these duties or adhere to the dress code I would be subject to termination which would then obligate me to pay back the student loan and contract buyout money. There was no question in my mind that the contract was written in a way that would allow the company to make me a mailgirl and there was nothing I could do about.

I looked over to Kelly sitting next to me and saw she was busy watching a movie on her tablet. I reached over and tugged on her sleeve to get her attention. She paused the movie, took off her headphones and turned to me. "Hey, what's up?"

"Do you feel like talking for a few minutes?" I asked her.

"Sure."

"Kelly, have you read our contract? I mean really read it?"

"I have, unfortunately. I kind of wish I hadn't."

"And?"

"And the company pretty much owns us for the next two years if that's what you want to know."

"Yeah, that's what I got out of it, too," I said. "Do you think they'll try to make us mailgirls?"

Kelly snorted derisively when I asked this. "Of course they will. I never bought into Barbara's bullshit for a second. I figured that was part of the plan all along."

"You did? Why?"

"I mean look at us, Danica. We're the two hottest women in the building. There are probably a hundred other women more experienced and qualified to help setup and manage the program without the company having to throw buckets of money at them, and they chose us? Did you think it was for our beautiful minds?"

Oh my god, I'm so stupid and naive, I thought to myself. "So if you believed that why did you sign the contract?"

"Because it's a hell of a lot of money," Kelly replied. "If they want me to run around naked delivering mail I'll do it for that kind of money."

"And you couldn't have clued me in to some of your thoughts about this earlier?" I asked.

"So you could do what? Freak out about it like you are now? Listen Danica, we're both in this now to the bitter end so you might as well make the best of it. I'm planning on doing whatever they ask for the next two years, save my money, and then tell the company 'fuck you very much' when it's over and walk away. I suggest you do the same."

Kelly then turned back to her movie and put her headphones on leaving me to stew about it on my own.

It took me the rest of the flight and two bottles of wine to make it through all of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. By the time the flight touched down I'd reluctantly accepted my probable fate. The one thing that gave me strength were thoughts of Mariko. If she could make it through everything that she'd been through and still retain her dignity and self-respect then maybe I could do it, too. At least I hoped I could.

A few minutes later I exited the jet bridge into a very uncertain future.