At seventeen, Marce landed her first job as a receptionist at David’s Holdings in Glebe, Sydney. It was a front-row seat to corporate life: she spent an hour on hair and makeup each morning, fielded client visits through large glass doors and felt she’d found her place. Diet pills kept her slim and wired, which mattered more then—overweight girls rarely got such visibility. She built quick bonds with payroll workers who brought her tea and treats, and flirty warehouse guys who delivered stock just to see her smile. Sue, twenty-seven, rough-edged and free-spirited, became Marce’s mentor and nightlife partner. Jackie, the raspy-voiced payroll manager in her fifties, took Marce under her wing, offering career advice and urging independence over marriage or children. When David’s Holdings shifted its head office an hour west into an industrial zone, Marce traded her short walk for a daily commute. She jumped to payroll to stay close to Sue and Jackie, convinced she’d climb the ranks alongside them. Outside work, Marce’s social life revolved around Sue’s and Jackie’s homes. Pub nights gave way to dinner at Sue’s, where Marce first saw adult autonomy in action. Weekends at Jackie’s featured barbecues and laughter, forging a second family she trusted more than her own. The annual Christmas house party at Sue’s—complete with Van Halen, bongs, brownies and Marce’s amphetamine-fueled endurance—became a rite of passage, sealing her place in that tight-knit circle.