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Bahaha! Probably.
You know what’s funny? Chad and I finally agree on something. He totally should be going instead of me.
Allie
No freaking way is that true.
It is. I’m going to mess this up so badly, Allie. I know you think I won’t, but I will. And we are all going to be out of jobs. And I’m going to lose my house before I can even move in.
Allie
It’s a lot of pressure, I know, but you’ve got this, Gwen. I know you do. You are the smartest person I know, and you can win an argument against anyone anytime on any topic. Forget Chad. You’re the masterest of the master debaters. You know, in actual debates. Not the other thing…
Thanks, but that’s actually my Achilles heel, not my greatest strength.
Allie
Not true.
Totally true. I have literally never been able to stop the thoughts in my brain from coming out of my mouth when I disagree with someone. And I cannot think of anyone I will disagree with more than Ty Sterling. I’m going to wind up telling him exactly what I think about him. We are all going to end up out on our asses and it’ll be all my fault.
My phone rings. It’s Allie. “Chad went on his coffee break, so I can chat a bit. Look, I know it’s going to be hard for you, but you’re so smart. Just constantly tell your sense of logic to override your need to be right.”
I plunk myself on my bed, next to the pile of clothes I’m bringing. “I don’t know how! Seriously! I am freaking out here, Allie. This is way too much pressure. Just think of Keenan. He’s in his late-seventies. If we get shut down, who’s going to hire him at his age? He’ll be done, and SETI is his life.”
“You can’t think about that. Instead, you have to focus on how to get the job done.”
“Which I have no clue how to do. How am I supposed to convince Ty Sterling, human gargoyle, who’s been gunning for us for the last nine years, that he should fork over another hundred million dollars?”
Allie lowers her voice a little. “Okay, I've been giving this a lot of thought. The two quickest ways to a man's heart are through his stomach and his pants. And since I doubt the opportunity to whip up a gourmet meal is going to present itself…”
After a full body shudder, I say, “Gross. Yuck. NEVER EVER EVER. Next idea.”
“I’d do him. He might be a narrow-minded asshole, but he's got that whole McDreamy vibe going on. Besides, I don't mean you should actually sleep with him. Just make him think it's a possibility.”
“You just set feminism back by fifty years.”
Allie sighs. “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Like prostituting myself?”
“No, just make him think you’re willing to prostitute yourself.”
The truth is—and I would never say this out loud—Ty Sterling is undeniably hot. He absolutely looks like McDreamy from season eight of Grey’s Anatomy. And if I thought I had any chance at seducing him to save our jobs, I'm not even ashamed to admit I would consider it. Does that make me a bad feminist? 100% yes, but then maybe I’d rather be a bad feminist with a job and a house than a good one who's homeless and broke. But, just no. No. Way. Never. A wave of desperation hits me again for the thousandth time today. “There’s got to be some other way. Let’s think.”
Allie clicks her tongue a few times, which is her thinking sound. “All right, so this is a definite opportunity. You’re going to have access to the guy day and night for almost a week. Actual in-person, face-to-face time, which is so much better than if we were just trying to set up a meeting with him.”
“Right. Okay, that’s good. An opportunity. That feels better,” I say, getting up and opening my underwear drawer. I pick out three pairs of seamless grannies, two boyfriend shorts, and, after a moment’s hesitation, one thong.
“Mind you, the competition is going to be fierce. There will probably be dozens of other people there all vying for his time. And you know those Yeti quacks are going to send some hottie with totally toned legs from all that hiking in the woods.”
Side note: we hate the Yeti team the most on account of their name sounding almost exactly like ours. We’re the SETI Research Institute, and, in an attempt to give themselves some street cred, they named themselves the Yeti Research Institute, which is an insult to both research and institutes everywhere.
"True, I bet they send Miss Canada."
Karen Taylor, the face of the Yeti team, is a former Miss Canada, so not only is she beautiful, she’s also annoyingly congenial, hailing from the nicest country in the world. I want to hate her, but there is literally no way to do so because she’s just the sweetest, most sincere person on the planet.
“Allie, I can’t compete with that," I say, tossing the thong back in the drawer and grabbing another pair of grannies. I shake my head at myself. “Not that I want to compete in that way. But, you know, trying to get his attention long enough to convince him.”
