"Davidson,.Mary.Janice.-.Betsy.3.-.Undead.and.Unemployed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

the day I died, and for another, they all still thought I was six feet under.
Plus, a job during daylight hours just wasn't going to work anymore.
I wasn't starving or homeless, at least. My best friend, Jessica, owned my house
and wouldn't let me pay rent, and she had her team of super accountants pay the
other bills despite my strenuous objections. I sure didn't need to grocery shop
for much except teabags and milk and stuff. Plus, my car was paid off. So my
monthly expenses were actually pretty low. Even so, I couldn't live off
Jessica's charity forever.
So here I was, on the steps of the Minnesota Re-Employment Center. They had
evening hours every ThursdayЧthank goodness!
I walked through the doors, shivering as I was greeted by a blast of
air-conditioning. Another thing about being dead that nobody warned me about was
that I was cold pretty much all the time. Minneapolis was having a severe heat
wave, and I was the only one not hating it.
"Hi," I said to the receptionist. She was wearing a stiff gray suit and needed
her roots done. I couldn't see her shoes, which was probably just as well. "I
came to the unemployment center toЧ"
"I'm sorry, miss, that's RE-Employment. Unemployment centers are an anachronism.
We're a responsive twenty-first-century re-employment one-stop center."
"Right. Um, anyway, I'm here to see one of the counselors."
For my audacity, I spent the next twenty minutes filling out paperwork. Finally,
my name was called, and I was sitting in front of a counselor.
He was a pleasant-looking older fellow with dark hair, a gray-flecked beard, and
chocolate brown eyes, and I was relieved to see the wedding ring as well as the
photo of his pretty wife and de rigeur adorable kids. I fervently hoped he had a
happy marriage, so he wouldn't make a fool of himself once my undead charisma
smacked him in the face.
"Hi, I'm Dan Mitchell." We shook hands, and I saw his eyebrows go up in surprise
when he clasped my clammy palm. "Elizabeth Taylor, right?"
"That's me."
"Are your eyes all right?"
I was wearing my sunglasses for two reasons. One, the fluorescent light hurt
like a bitch. Two, men didn't fall under my spell if they couldn't see my eyes.
The last thing I needed was a slobbering state employee humping my leg.
"I was at the eye doctor's earlier," I lied. "He put those drop things in."
"Yeah, been there. Elizabeth TaylorЧjust like the movie star!" he enthused,
obviously having no idea people had been drawing that conclusion since the day
I'd been born.
"Betsy."
"Betsy, then." He was flipping through the reams of paperwork I'd handed him.
"Everything looks rightЕ"
"I hope so. I'm here for UnemploymentЧ"
"We're the RE-Employment Center," Mitchell said absently, still flipping.
"Right, right. Anyway, I need a new job, and while I'm looking, I'd like
Unemployment Insurance. In fact, I have a questЧ"
Mitchell looked vaguely alarmed. "UmЕ I need to stop you right there. We can't
do that here."
I blinked. Not that he could tell behind the Foster Grants I was wearing. "Come
again?"
"We're a re-employment office. That's what we do."