Dirty Laundry Secret: Manhunt At A Conference.
I hope Hector will be ok handling the shop alone today. That poor kid is still shaken up from last month when he thought a client left a brick of cocaine in their suit pocket.
Maybe I should check in?
It’s not like I’m doing anything important at the moment anyways… I’ll paint the picture for you:
Dull, beige walls that are slightly decorated with muted patterned curtains that barely let the sun in. Fifty or so mid-century-looking chairs that were probably meant to look chic, but somehow managed to do the opposite. And a giant white projector that showcases people’s presentations with numbers and statistics about the laundry and dry cleaning industry – figures that no one in the world would care about except for, well, everyone who’s here and, of course, me.
If you’re wondering why I’m here, it’s because – despite what I just described – I love this sh–t. I’m nerding out – despite being aesthetically deprived – because I am one of keynote speakers today, and the presenters told me that they have a special introduction for me. I’m just waiting for my turn.
Oops, sorry. I probably lost you there. Let’s do something more entertaining, aka check in with Hector.
“Hey Hector, how’s everything at the store?” I texted.
Two seconds later, “Good! Almost too good for 12:30pm on a Tuesday… [nervous emoji 😅]”
I laughed, this kid will never not be worried, “You’re fine! You got it!”
“I hope…”
“Let’s just hope nothing crazy happ-”
The ground suddenly shook. It felt almost like a volcano was going to erupt, but I’m in the United States in the middle of nowhere of the potato state, so that can’t be the case. But the shaking felt like it was getting closer.
“HALT! POLICE”
Half of us screamed and the other half jumped out of their seats ready to bolt — me being the latter. A group of cops emerged from the side of the room that was blocked off. Everyone wanted to escape, but we all felt frozen.
Why the hell are there police at a laundry and dry cleaning conference?
“Ladies and gentlemen, please stay where you are. We’re on a manhunt.”
“A-A manhunt?” one of the male attendees questioned (fact: I’m the only woman here).
“Yes,” the police officer dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Him. We do not know his name, but he is a wealthy investor in your industry… I’m told.”
A woman emerged from the middle of the police circle. She looked annoyed and uninterested — almost like someone who got caught and didn’t want to be caught. She didn’t make any eye contact; she just had an annoyed pout.
(New fact: I am not the only woman here).
“Please no one leave. Instead, try to carry on as normal. It may draw him out,” the officer looked at the lead presenter and both of them nodded their heads. The group of cops and the woman exited the room, slowly but also hastily.
I better not be —
“Molly! Everyone please welcome the soon-to-be face of the [clears throat] industry… Molly!”
The clapping was so weak it made me feel like the last kid being chosen to a dodgeball team in gym class.
I reluctantly got up and forced a smile on my face even though all I could think of was the police tackling that Santa-looking investor and handcuffing him. I’m sure I’m not the only one.
But I am the only one in front of these 50-or-so people and I somehow have stood here long enough for it to be awkward that I didn’t say anything, “When I look at the industry, I see nothing but a—”
“STOP!” I heard, muffled. I held the mic to my mouth, about to say the rest of my rehearsed spiel, but, of course, the small opening from the depressing window in front of me just gifted me front row seats to the police handcuffing Santa-looking investor man… with no pants.
“Molly?”
“Oh um sorry,” I faked clearing my throat. “I see nothing but a $14 billion opportunity…”
I went on with my speech, but all I could think of was: I have to text Hector.
25 MINUTES LATER
I deleted what I was previously texting, “You won’t believe what just happened…”
“It never ends, does it?!”