***just a heads up, cause it might be triggering for some***
okay, so i work at a rent-a-car company (administrative job), but i studied and have a diploma in animation. we had a conversation with one of my colleagues where i mentioned this and she went:
‘and look where you ended up!’
and i was like: ‘okay, don’t mind me, i’ll just slit my wrist with a pen.’
i have been considering quitting my job (for several different reasons), but it has been so difficult. i feel so ashamed for selling myself and my time for a company like this, but especially since i have a puppy, i find it stressful to quit a safe and secure, monthy salary.
Hi!! Idk if you're taking requests right now cuz I know you have a lot of song fics still (take your time, each one is a blessing), but if there's any room in your brain could we have a Dewey or Beej encouraging a reader who's interviewing for a job and is nervous about starting the new job/leaving their old job? No worries if the answer is no! I really enjoy your writing, regardless if you take the request or not. Thank you and you're doing amazing!! 💕
I hope it’s not too late for this! I’ve been pretty deep in Dewey-Land, so I used him for this and I’m kinda glad I did. He’s such a soft boi, I love him, and I’m excited to have a non-songfic request for him! I think this is my first one 🤗
(Also, it’s pretty safe to assume that most of what I post is barely edited. I’m so sorry.)
Words: ~1,135
It had been ages since your last interview. At least, it felt that way. That was one of the reasons you were doing this – your job had taken decades away from you in the small handful of years you had had it. It was time to move on.
Fortunately, the years in your current soul-sucking occupation had given you a fair amount of experience to add to your resumé. You knew that you were a good candidate, and that your future boss, whoever they were, needed to be someone who recognized that. If your interviewers today were unable to recognize your talent and qualifications, they were not the employers for you. That wasn’t the problem.
“Hey, you’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Even as you asked, you felt the tension in your jaw.
Without telling you, Dewey reached over and set his hand atop your knee to still the bouncing of your leg. You glanced at him sheepishly. “Relax,” he told you.
“Sorry,” you muttered, returning to your toast. “I’m just nervous.”
“Why, though? You sounded so confident last night.”
That was true. With your good luck pajama set on (it was purple and white and, in Dewey’s words, ‘adorable’), your hair completely out of your face, and your alarms thoroughly checked, you had settled into bed last night confident that you knew how to talk to people and, more importantly, how to come across as competent and resourceful.
It was only once you had sat down to breakfast that you realized these had been barefaced lies.
Now your hair was styled and shiny and tickling your forehead in a more maddening way than you had ever thought possible. Your suit was uncomfortable and seemed both excessive and inadequate for the interview. You had managed to get out of bed on time, primarily because you had hardly slept. Ten minutes before your first alarm was meant to ring, Dewey – without opening his eyes – had asked if you were ready to get up, or if you wanted to keep tossing and turning. You were apologetic, but relieved that you finally had an excuse to get out of bed.
Though you were now dressed and ready to go, you felt poorly rested and uncomfortable. How were you supposed to interview like this?
“I felt confident last night,” you told your partner. “Now I kinda feel like three shots, a beer, and two hours of sleep.”
Dewey sucked a breath in through his teeth. “That bad, huh?” You gave him a confirming grimace. “That sounds like my first day of teaching, and I already had the job.”
“Well–”
“So, whadda you think the problem is?” Dewey asked stiffly, cutting you off. He didn’t need reminding that he had been a mess last year. Frankly, he was still a bit of a mess, but now he was your mess. “Do you think you won’t get the job today?”
You held your toast, tapping it with your fingertips, but not eating it. “I don’t know. Mostly, I think I’m just nervous about quitting.”
“Why? You’ve been wanting to leave for months.”
“I don’t know, rose-tinted goggles?” Dewey frowned, his mouth full of scrambled eggs. “Like, I wanna leave, but I’m also scared to talk to my boss, which is making me think that maybe she’s not so bad so I can justify to myself why I should just stay, even though I know I shouldn’t…” You let the sentence hang, not wanting to start rambling. “Disrupting the status quo sucks.” You gave up on your toast and took a swig of your juice.
Dewey was clearly trying to think of something to say. Ever since you had officially started dating, you had noticed that Dewey understood you in a way that none of your previous partners had. He usually knew what you were feeling and what you were thinking. He could often finish your sentences, though he only did it when he was excited. He always knew how to make you laugh, even when that was the only thing he could do to make you feel better. You could tell that, this morning, he was at a bit of a loss.
“You said that you know you should leave, though, right?” he asked slowly.
“Well, yeah, but the job itself isn’t actually that bad.”
“But you don’t wanna do it anymore?”
You twisted your mouth to the side, but answered honestly. “No, I don’t.”
“So, you wanna do something new, that totally makes sense.”
“But how do I tell my boss that?” you asked, your fingers twisting together under the table. Mostly, you were trying to keep yourself from moving Dewey’s hand from your knee so you could go back to bouncing your leg.
“Babe, just tell her the truth.” There was a small smile on Dewey’s lips, as if he were stating the obvious. Objectively, you knew he probably was. But telling your boss outright that you didn’t want to work for her anymore felt like telling a volcano that there was this really lovely bakery down the block that you very much enjoyed, so could it please not explode until you had had enough croissants? “You wanna use some of your mad skills that you haven’t been able to use, and you found somewhere else that you can do that.”
“But what if I don’t get the job?” you asked in a small voice.
“Then we keep looking until you find one.”
You frowned. “‘We?’”
Dewey’s smile both grew and softened, and you felt his thumb stroking your knee. You laid a hand atop his and squeezed. He squeezed your knee in turn. “I got your back, babe. No matter what. You know that.” He gave your knee a playful shove before removing his hand and resting it on the table, now holding yours. “Even if you get laughed out of your interview by an even worse manager than the one you have now.”
“My boss isn’t that bad, she–” Dewey gave you a look over the top of his glass. “…she’s just tense,” you grumbled, noting that for the first time since last night, you actually felt settled. “Anyway, I should get going. I think I’m a lot less likely to be laughed out of the interview if I actually show up on time.”
“Eh, being on time is overrated.”
You smiled and shook your head. “Okay, Dew.” You stood and carried your plate to the sink. When you returned to the table to grab your things, you leaned over and gave Dewey a short kiss. “I’ll see you later.”
No sooner had you turned your back than Dewey slapped your ass. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Dew!” you admonished, still heading for the door. Dewey’s half-snigger, half-cackle followed you out of the apartment.
