Amara felt her ears buzzing, like someone had stuffed cotton inside them. Her brain refused to interpret the words properly. Secretary? Personal? As in… her?
Mr. Renell's lips kept moving, but all she heard was white noise and the faint ringing of a cartoonish bell… like she'd just been smacked on the head in a slapstick show.
Finally, she found her voice. "This has to be a joke. A really weird one. A sick one, actually. Not funny at all."
"Miss Hayes…"
"No, sorry, hold on." She lifted a hand, palm out. "A secretary? Me? There are actual trained people for that. College graduates. People who know how to handle… phones and meetings and expensive pens. I'm just good at scrubbing coffee stains from carpets."
"Most people would be delighted at the opportunity to move up," he said, and the flat tone suggested he very much wished she were 'most people.'
"Well, congratulations," she muttered, "because I am not most people."
