11.4 Starbucks and new job?

Celeste smirked a little. “Yeah, that does sound like something I’d do. But I don’t really want to move down there yet – maybe in a few years, but all of our friends are still up here. And I don’t really know anyone down there.”
Jeanne rolled her eyes, “No matter what I suggest, you don’t even consider it. I’m done suggesting. Leech off your parents some more, I don’t care. As long as you pay your half of the rent, I’m done suggesting. You could flip burgers, for all it’ll matter to me from now on.” Jeanne flopped into the desk chair, and moved her mouse to turn off her computer’s sleep mode.
Celeste took the hint, and dropped the subject. She lay on Jeanne’s bed for a little while more, and then she forced herself to her feet, and trudged to the door into the living room. As she was leaving, she turned around and said, “I don’t mean to criticize or not consider all your ideas. Maybe I’m just being a baby, but I always thought that graduating and being an adult would be – something more than this. Something better, maybe, or easier anyway.”
Jeanne turned around and smiled a little, “Remember telling your parents that you couldn’t wait to be all grown up, so you could eat candy before dinner, and stay up late at night, and buy as many clothes as you wanted?”
Celeste laughed, “What small trade-offs for having to work, and pay rent, and bills!”

The next morning, Celeste put on her best black slacks, and a tailored blouse. Conservative makeup and straightened hair finished the look. She pasted a fakish pleasant smile onto her face, and set out job hunting.
Starbucks was filling up by the time she got there. She finally snagged a table near a power outlet, and powered up her laptop.
As the computer was booting, she turned to the guy sitting at the table next to her. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, with the appealingly studious look that distinguished most of the male graduate students from the normal twenty-something participants in the rat race. “Excuse me?”
He turned toward her, self-consiously flattening his hair down with one hand, and straightened his glasses with the other.
“Are you going to be here for a minute? I just got this table, but I haven’t gotten my coffee yet, and I don’t want to leave my computer here without someone keeping an eye on it.”
“Oh. Erhm, sure, no problem.” He continued to pat down his hair.
“Would you like anything?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” His smile looked half pained, half confused.
She gave him her brightest smile. “Ok, I’ll be back in just a minute.”
While she waited in line to get her non-fat, double strength mint mochaccino, she watched the grad student who was watching her computer. He seemed to have actually taken her seriously about watching the computer. She meant, keep half an eye on it to make sure that no one walked off with it. And really, what was the point of asking a perfect stranger to watch your computer anyway? It was as likely that he would walk off with it, as defend it from someone else taking it, should it come to that. But this guy, he apprarently took her seriously. He wasn’t quite staring at the computer to make sure it didn’t sprout legs and take off running, but he definitely paying more attention to it still being there than most people would have.
Finally hearing her name called by the barista broke her out of her trance. She picked up her order, and wound her way around backpacks, outstretched legs, power cords, back to her table.
“Here,” she said. She put a cappuccino down on the grad-student’s table, along with a croissant. “It was nice of you to watch my computer for me, and it didn’t look like you had any coffee left. Plus, I enjoy having coffee more with someone else than by myself searching for jobs.”
“Oh. Well. Ehrm, thanks,” he blushed a little. Apparently spurred on by the offer to exchange chit-chat for coffee, he said, “Well, what are you looking for a job doing?”
“Anything,” she shrugged. “I majored in Art History and minored in Eastern Philosophy. There aren’t a whole lot of jobs open relating to either.”
He laughed, “Have you given any thought to waitressing?”
He has a good laugh, she thought. She smiled, and said, “Ouch. Not only am I getting it from friends and family, but now from a perfect stranger that I just bought coffee for. Man oh man, that’s cruel.”
“Ok, really, though. Are you really interested in having a job period, rather than having a job in art history or – what was the other one? Comparative religion?”
“Um, no. Eastern philosophy, actually. The second most useless major. And yes, at this point I’m more interested in a paycheck than in dissertations on Monet and Confucious.”
“I assume you did some research papers during college – maybe in the philosophy classes? I can’t imagine doing a reseach paper in art history.” At her nod, he continued. “I’m a grad student at Northeastern – I’m working with one of my professors on the book that he’s writing. It’s about—“ he visibly gathered himself together. “Well, basically, it’s an analysis of the original intent of the founding documents of the United States – the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, really even as far back as the Magna Carta – in relation to our current imperialistic-ethnocentrism.”
She nodded, “Ok, I think I follow. I took a Poli-Sci class during college, so the idea isn’t entirely unfamiliar.”
“Well, anyways, the professor that I’m working with is looking for a research assistant. Basically someone to read through some of the books that haven’t been indexed very well, and essentially create an index for them. In relation to the topics that he’s focusing on, of course.”
Her eyes lit up. “That sounds right up my alley. I really loved researching for papers, learning new things and organizing information. Can I give you a copy of my resume to submit to your professor for me?”
“No need – just come to the library at NU tonight at six, and we’ll give you a trial by fire. The pay’s only eleven an hour, so it’s not a whole lot, but if you like it and we like you, you’ll get health benefits out of it, and the university-employee discount on classes and stuff.” He shrugged. “It’s not great pay, but it’s an interesting subject, my professor’s great, and catalogueing the information and indexing the books is mindlessly relaxing at worst, outright stimulating at best. Plus, you can work anywhere you want to, with most of the books. Either the library, or Starbucks, or your house, or… well, more or less anywhere. There are a few in the archives that you can’t touch with your bare hands, but we won’t need those for a while. Well – what do you think? Will you come tonight?”
She looked incredulous. “Are you kidding? Of course I’ll come. This is the best opportunity I’ve had.”