Boss Babe
by Molly Osborne
part 1
“That bitch!” Claudia Gorski seethed at the notification on her Clarity phone. Pippa Gladsone, Practically-Perfect-Pippa, had sent a photo of herself holding up a brand-new Coach bag with two tickets for a Caribbean cruise poking out of its front pocket. She explained that this was her prize for finally reaching Gold Status with Pout Cosmetics. Claudia had just received a second notice on her cable bill. She had never been on a cruise. Her purse was from Target, though it was solid black, so no one would know.
“Hey guyz,” read Pippa’s post on Clarity Board, only accessible from a Clarity Phone. “I can’t begin to tell you how much my life has changed for the better since I decided to take control of schedule and my finance$ by joining Pout. I get to be my own boss, which means I set my own hours. I’m spending more time with the kids and hubby, I have lots of extra cash at the end of the month, and I get early access to all of Pout’s amazing products. It's seriously a dream come true.”
Talk about a humble brag minus the humble, Claudia thought, rolling her eyes at each of Pippa’s emojis.
“Today I am so excited to announce that I’ve been invited to join the exclusive ranks of Gold Level with Pout. With my bonus check, I’m going to be able to finally start a college fund for Braxton and Wren. I know, right??? I’m so #grateful. It really goes to show that if you believe in hard work, anything is possible. HMU if you wanna take control of your own life and be a Ebossbabe just like me.”
Claudia groaned and chucked her phone across her spotless bedroom, realizing as it flew through the air that she couldn’t afford a replacement until after the holidays. She lept from her bed just as the phone hit the floor, landing with a silent bounce as the carpet absorbed all of the impact. She carefully inspected the device for any damage. A crack on the screen was like a chip in your nail polish. It said something about who what kind of person you were. It was always better to have naked nails than a ratty manicure.
Claudia wasn’t capable of picking up her phone without scrolling through Clarity Board. Just one new status update trigged enough endorphins to keep her in a cravings cycle for hours. Clarity built primo technology; trend-defining industrial design with some of the slickest software engineers behind the scenes. Everything they made was all in one; they built the hardware, the software, they even had their own search engine: Clarity Search. It integrated user’s personal data to filter results that were exactly what the user wanted on the first try.
It was just so much easier to use Clarity. All of your preferences, likes, dislikes, photos, friends, blocked enemies, everything about you, was flawlessly carried over from device to device, service to service. But best of all, Clarity was freaky-good at guessing what you’d like before you even knew you liked it.
No one outside of Clarity really knew how they did it. You didn’t even have to type in the word “mattress” to find a new mattress. They knew when you needed a new one. A few naysayers had speculated that Clarity was using microphone and the camera to track when things were purchased and and then determined their obsolesce date. Most people, if pressed, would admit that this might be a tad invasive. But they didn’t care. It was too convenient, and it always worked.
Clarity was a luxury brand. Everybody who was anybody used Clarity, everything else was tacky. Claudia, whose family was outgrowing their tiny house and barely made enough to pay their bills on time each month, still managed to find a way to fit the newest Clarity products into her budget. She figured she could keep the world out of her home, but she’d still have to be seen out in the world.
Her husband, Will, had begun to make offhanded comments about spending so much money and maybe thinking about getting a part-time job now that the kids were old enough to go to school. Claudia knew this was impossible; their youngest, Perry, was only in pre-kindergarten, and it let out at noon. What job would let her out at noon? And Kaylee had ballet Tuesdays and Thursdays, right after school at three. Who would drive her there? Besides, Claudia wanted to have another baby. She couldn’t just start a new job now, only to quit in a few months when she was pregnant.
She knew Will was right: they did need the money. She wanted the money. She wished she didn’t have to work for it, that someone she didn’t really love but was related to would die and she could get an inheritance. She wanted to feel like she was contributing more. She wanted to be able to buy the new Clarity tablet, get a manicure, go to brunch, get a hot blowout and not feel guilty because she paid for it with the money she’d earned, not with Will’s wages.
That was how she fell into Pout Cosmetics. Claudia loathed Pippa. Everything Pippa posted on Clarity Board was so sickly-sweet. Nothing bad ever happened to Pippa. Claudia hated that she was going to have to ask her for anything, but it was what she needed to do to take back control of her life. To be her own boss.
Pout specialized in lipstick, and though she sometimes thought the colors looked a little bright, she knew she’d be ace at picking out a complimentary palette. Claudia considered her own style to be classical-chic, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more daring? Try on some of those vivid colors she wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing before. She could already feel Pout making her a stronger woman.
* * *
Claudia and four other moms from the neighborhood, including Pippa, met for coffee at Panera Bread every Wednesday. They used to have bagels, but they were all on keto now. The women had all grown up together in the same suburb but had gone their separate ways for college. They moved back as soon as they could, Claudia never finishing her Communications degree, each marrying boys just a few years older that they had adored in high school.
“Are you serious?” Pippa stammered. She had been trying for months to get the other moms to sign up. But they were already their own bosses. The only one who wasn’t selling anything was Claudia. Amy was already selling an organic dog food; Maya, weight loss shakes; and Kendra... she hadn’t even tried Kendra. Kendra was a wreck. She didn’t fit into the group at all, and yet she haunted the group like a stubborn rash. She was someone’s cousin, maybe?
“I got you a medium-hot white mocha,” Kendra said, setting a paper latte cup down in front of Amy. “That’s what you usually order, right?”
“Oh... thanks. That’s so sweet of you,” Amy said, not looking up from her rose gold Clarity phone. “I’m only drinking clear liquids this week though.”
Kendra had tried selling a number of things, and she was always a massive failure. Custom doormats. Cellulite-erasing body wraps. Scented leggings. It wasn’t that the products were bad, it was just that Kendra was a terrible salesperson: awkward, fumbling, desperate. The girls might buy something from her once, but only because they felt bad for her.
“We’re going to be partners, you and me. My success is your success!” Pippa beamed. Claudia noticed how Pippa always looked so happy on Clarity, but whenever they met in person, she didn’t smile nearly as much. She had quite a few crows’ feet. Her chestnut hair was a bit more dull. She always seemed tired.
“You’re going to love the Pout community. I’ll invite you to all the secret Clarity Book groups,” Pippa said, leading Claudia to her car. She beeped the trunk open on a sedan that was at least ten years old.
“Are you driving Wren’s car?” Claudia asked, referring to Pippa’s teenage daughter.
“No, it's mine... so, I just happen to have a couple contracts with me in the back and—“
“It's just that, well, you posted a picture of that gorgeous black SUV,” Claudia pushed, “and I thought—”
“We returned it!” Pippa snapped. “I’m sorry, what I mean is that we are trying this new zero-debt program and, well... that meant the car payment had to go. That’s just how the program works.” She refused to utter the words “can’t afford.”
“I don’t know...“ Claudia began. She scanned over the agreement, not really understanding what she was signing away.
“Finally, I need a thousand-dollar deposit and I can order your first set of product.”
Claudia balked.
“You’ll make it back in no time. I can’t keep enough of this stuff on hand,” Pippa urged.
“Pippa, I don’t know. Are you sure you’re doing okay financially? I mean, your car—“
“Listen,” Pippa cut in, “it’s just part of the program. It's all about becoming a millionaire before you are fifty. Sacrifice now for prosperity later. Ken Billings, check him out. He’s a Christian financial advisor who has a great podcast. It’s changing my life—“
Claudia tuned out, fixated on the thousand dollars. It was a lot of money that her family didn’t have. It was hard to believe that Pippa felt like she needed to transform her perfect life but, if she needed a change, then Claudia really needed one. She transferred the money to Pippa through Clarity Pay, wondering how long it would be before Will saw it missing from the account. Sometimes you have to spend money to make money, she assured herself. He’ll understand that.
* * *
Will did not understand that. He was furious when he saw the money missing and even more furious when Claudia explained what it was for.
“Aren’t those things some kind of scam? Like a pyramid scheme or something?” he asked.
“No,” Claudia insisted. “Pyramid schemes are illegal. Pout wouldn’t be such a big company if they were illegal. Look,” Claudia took out her phone and opened Clarity Search. She typed in the words, “Is Pout Cosmetics a scam?” A series of search results appeared, mostly from bloggers, debunking that claim.
“Yeah, but that’s because you used Clarity Search. It's just showing you what you want to see.”
“So? That doesn’t mean all these articles are false. Look at all of these different people who said Pout changed their lives.”
“Let’s try looking on my phone and see what comes up,” Will said.
“Please,” Claudia scoffed. “I’m not going to believe anything on that shitbox.”
“Why? Because it isn’t made by Clarity?”
“Yeah, exactly. It's just some crappy knockoff with a knockoff search engine.”
“A search engine that doesn’t have a happy-bubble feature.”
“You told me you wanted me to make money and I’m trying. Why won’t you support me?” Claudia said, slumping into their couch that was beautiful and trendy when they first bought it but now was faded and covered in applesauce stains.
Will paused, then put his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Jeeze, just talk to me next time before you take that much money out. I’ll do everything I can to help you, all right? I’ll even ask the guys at the warehouse if they’ll buy it.”
“It’s lipstick.”
“Well, there’s a lady in Human Resources. Maybe she—”
“It's fine. Thank you,” Claudia said perking back up. She took her phone back out and saw a notification from Pippa, an invitation to the secret Pout consultants’ group. She scanned through the page for what may have been hours. She looked at every promotional selfie. Every rank upgrade announcement followed by thousands of “stars” from fellow Pout consultants. Everyone was so positive. So many heart-eyed emojis. So many blessed hashtags. Claudia had found her tribe.
* * *
Copyright © 2021 by Molly Osborne
