Anyway, back to the letter ...
You need to be here at 8:15 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Please meet with Mr. Greg Shapiro the manager in the mailroom located in the basement. He will dictate what you are to do over the course of the week.
I will stop here too because ... what ... is ... that! Why is the manager of the mailroom overseeing my week? I didn't interview to be his assistant only to wind up a mailroom clerk. At this point I keep reading those two lines over and over again believing I have gone temporarily insane. Finally giving up, I move on.
Head to HR to handle your paperwork. I like my coffee black.
Sincerely,
Mr. Henrik Payne
Vice President, Sales & Marketing at Mimir
That last line: I like my coffee black ... okay? See, this is what I am talking about. Confusing, right? That's what I thought, so I take the elevator back upstairs to the twenty-eighth floor. I march over to Mr. Payne's office door, it’s closed, so I knock.
"Who is it?"
His deep voice rumbles through the door. I choose to be bold, not wait for permission to open the door, and march in demanding that he explain himself.
So I crack open the door just enough to pop my head through and say, "Mr. Payne?" In a voice so weak if I had strep throat he would have had a better chance at hearing me.
"Who are ... Ms. Drake?"
I open the door farther and step just inside, leaving the door ajar in case I need to bolt. So much for my boldness.
"Mr. Payne, I have a question with the letter you left me."
He groans and moves his attention back to his computer, clicking away with his mouse.
"It should be self-explanatory, Ms. Drake. You need to start work tomorrow at 8:15. What about that confuses you? You did just interview for the job did you not?"
My heart is pounding in my ears as I feel a bead of sweat slowly trickle down the side of my face. I am glad Mr. Payne isn't looking at me because now he can't witness a woman melting into a gooey mess of fear. I clear my throat before continuing, willing my voice to sound strong even if my body refuses to cooperate.
"Yes, I interviewed to be your assistant, not a mailroom clerk."
He stills mid type. I watch as his fists clench and he carefully swivels his chair to face me. My mind is screaming at me right now. She's telling me, Why did you poke that hornets' nest with a stick?
"Ms. Drake. I am not in the habit of explaining my orders to anyone, least of all my assistant. But, if you must insist on harassing me I will explain a few things, so you can leave me in peace. I have rules, for myself, and anyone who works for me. The number one rule is know this company from the ground up. In order to understand this business and the people who run it, you will have to get to know them and what they do. So, each week I will have you working in a different department until I feel you understand enough to assist me in helping it function. Are we clear?"
I nod my head as my voice has long since packed her bags and left the building. Traitor!
"Now leave before I regret my decision in hiring you. Oh, and everything in that letter is a part of your duties for this week, even getting my coffee in the morning. I arrive by eight thirty and expect it then. Goodbye, Ms. Drake."
I clear my throat and bribe my voice to return with thoughts of warm tea.
"Thank you, Mr. Payne."
I leave, closing the door behind me. I take two steps and collapse to the ground. My body giving out from the stress of the day with the dueling feelings of joy and fear racking my insides. I sit on the gray carpet looking at the wool pills in the floor trying to gather my thoughts when I hear a different male voice from above.
"Are you all right? Here let me help you."
I look up to see a man who could easily pass for a Nordic god if he wasn't wearing a navy suit with a red tie. It’s as if Thor met Brad Pitt, defied the laws of reality and biology, had a three way with David Beckham which then produced the man reaching down for me. I stare at his hand unable to handle two hot men in suits in one day. Is it a requirement that all the male employees be studly? If so, thank God I got this job!
Regaining my senses I take his hand and come to standing.
"Thank you. I just tripped on the carpet." I lie trying to save face.
The Thor/Pitt/Beckham love sandwich chuckles and gives me the sweetest, heart arresting smile.
"I keep telling my brother to replace the carpets, but it's the one area he is cheap about. Oh, and the coffee here is crap, he's cheap with that too."
"So ... so ... you're Mr. Jacob Mimir's brother?"
He holds out a hand for me to take.
"Yes, Edgar Mimir, at your service m'lady. And I don't think I have had the pleasure of being introduced?"
He takes my hand, and gives a light tip while bowing in jest. I stutter my responses in shock by the day’s events, first the job and the boss attached to the job and now meeting the owner of the company's brother.
"I'm ... I, uh ... I mean I'm Morgana Drake, Mr. Payne's new assistant."