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Petra DeKant had said that she would call me over the weekend to tell me exactly when I should show up to my new job. I waited by the phone but no ring.

Finally on Monday I called myself. "Can I tell Ms. DeKant what this is in regard to?" Jules said.










"It's about the Junior Designer position," I said. "If you're looking for a job you'll have to contact our Human Resources department," Jules said rather bruskly. "Ms DeKant is--"

"No," I interrupted. "I'm the Junior Designer. I'm Phoebe, remember?" He didn't, but he said that he would pass the message along to Petra.

Hmmm.

Another couple of days passed and so I called again. Same crap with Jules not letting me through to Petra. But then I had an aneurism, or a solipsism, or whatever you call it when your brain farts out an unpleasant thought:

Maybe Jules, lowly indentured phony Eurotrash serf that he is, had hoped he would be the one to get the Junior Designer position. Maybe he's not sending my messages through to Petra because he wants to take the job for himself!

As they say in the cartoons, I better do something and quick!