The Big Idea

"Yes, your voice echoes in my head when I'm trying to sleep. Thanks, anyway," she offered with a glum, rainy day expression. Her small metal desk was near the back of the drab, gray plastic cubical. The leg of her desk was missing the rubber tip, and it wobbled just enough to be noticeable. It was the kind of desk that had probably been bolted to the floor in a captain's office on some aircraft carrier. Other accoutrements of her office included a filing cabinet, an old but workable computer, and a used business-type phone with way too many memory options.

Mindy pushed away from her desk and bent over to adjust one of her shoes; shoes she wished she had not worn that day. Her permed brown hair was tied back, but a jumble of curls crowded her forehead. It was not a good day and every little ripple seemed to amplify the fact.

"Glad I leave some kind of an impression," Eric said as he turned his attention back to the reading material he had been absorbed in when she hung up the phone.

Mindy Holm worked as an Information Specialist. She was in charge of keeping the media happy. The somewhat entry-level assignment was not without its perks, however. Being an aspiring writer and reporter, it did not hurt to be in constant contact with the top editors of nearly every major newspaper and news organization in Washington D.C., New York, and Los Angeles. So far though, her contacts had not panned out to her satisfaction. Still, she performed her duties without fail and remained loyal to the job at hand. She never solicited outside writing assignments from government officials and, if she were ever to be offered anything, she would promptly clear it through the proper channels.