The tough part was the over-ten-hour drive between Calgary and Vancouver while trying to keep my ever rambunctious and physically active daughter Lennon entertained, fed, and focused on anything other than the words,are we there yet?It’s been ages.My daughter seems to think anything that takes longer than five minutes is ages.
“Thank you, Trevor.The move was not without its complications, but I’m so excited to finally be here.It’s seriously a dream come true.”
And that is not an understatement.Getting a job with the Vikings organization is something I still can’t believe happened.
With a sweep of his arm, Trevor gestures for me to enter and take a seat in his office.I step inside and sit across from him at a small conference table.“Let’s get all the paperwork out of the way so we can do a tour of the admin offices, introduce you to everyone, and show you the team facility.Then I get to put you to work.”
Inhaling deeply, I exhale the anxiety that’s been building since I accepted the offer with the Vikings last month.As Trevor fiddles with some paperwork, I take in his office decor.It’s exactly like I expected it to be—decorated with pennants, photos, encased jerseys, and various other hockey memorabilia from both his stint as a pro hockey player and his current position as part of Vikings management.
Trevor Wilkes was a known entity to me long before I first interviewed with him.In fact, one of my brothers—I think it was Zack—had Trevor’s poster, the one from his Toronto-playing era, tacked up to his wall for years.
But never in a million years would I have ever expected I would someday be working for him.
I keep wanting to pinch myself in case it’s all a dream.It all happened in such a rush; I barely had time to consider the endgame.Or the potential drawbacks of accepting this position with the Vikings and moving to Vancouver.
This is my first real job using my college major as a junior analyst.It’s also the first time I’ve lived away from my family and my childhood home, not including my short stint in a college dorm in Montana five years ago.This whole situation has me adulting so hard it makes me want to vomit.
But I put those worries aside and focus on the reality of what this will mean for my career.When I finished my degree in sports analytics and management, my goal was to someday be in Trevor’s position.I’ve been around sports all my life.My dad and younger brothers played hockey, and I originally went to university on a volleyball scholarship.Sports is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be in.
And someday, I’m going to work my way to the top of this organization.
But first things first.Which right now means onboarding and completing my new employee paperwork.
Trevor pulls out a stack of papers, and the movement bumps the pen next to him, sending it rolling off the table.
“I’ll get it,” I say, leaning down to pick up the pen and then wincing when I see the shoes I wore today.I wanted to look professional and make a good first impression.So instead of comfortable flats or sneakers, I chose heels that matched my pencil skirt and blazer.
Now I feel slightly ridiculous.This is a sports organization, after all; employees are dressed informally everywhere I look.Even Trevor is in track pants and a long-sleeved pullover that sports a Viking emblem.
Trevor sets the manila envelope labeledHalle A.MacAlisteraside and places the papers and other items on the table between us.I place the Vikings logo pen in front of me, expecting I’ll be putting it to use in a moment.
“You’ll find all the standard new employee documents to get you set up with payroll and our security and IT systems.I have you scheduled to meet with a member of the Benefits team this afternoon after lunch, and you’ll get a picture taken for your permanent badge.But for now, you’ll have an access card to get you inside the building and all the facilities.”
On top of the paperwork is a cream-colored fob the size of a credit card, a lanyard with the Vikings team logo attached to it.My stomach shimmies with excitement, like a Bollywood dancer in the movies I’ve watched.I’ve officially become an employee of the Vancouver Vikings.
A professional hockey team.
The very same team Dane Axelrod plays on.
It’s the only drawback of my otherwise perfect dream job.
I swallow down the lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat and remind myself that the likelihood of running into him is slim.So.Very.Slim.
In fact, he’ll likely never know I even work here.The reports I run will be funneled through the coaching staff, the only identifiers being my first initial and last name.
In my new role, I’m a junior analyst and data engineer for the hockey operations department, which will keep me buried in the databases, pulling and crunching numbers and analyzing player stats.I’ll most likely be confined to a cubicle in the team offices—far,faraway from where the players practice or the locker rooms and meeting areas dedicated to the team activities.
Trevor explained to me during my second interview that I would rarely, if ever, be asked to attend a game in a formal function.That’s left to our video guy, Sanjay.He explained that I would be cross-trained to assist if the need ever arose, but otherwise, my butt is planted at a desk, hidden away from comings and goings of the players and coaches.
The likelihood of me coming face-to-face with my daughter’s biological father in my new job with the team is statistically improbable.
Or close to it, anyhow.
“Why don’t you get started on these,” Trevor says, tapping the paper-clipped stack just as his desk phone rings and his mobile chirps with an incoming text notification.He glances down at his cell and then pushes up from his chair, leaning across the desk to grab the ringing phone, his index finger up in the air.“Sorry for the interruption.Hold on for just a second.”
While I wait, I slip the lanyard over my head and flip it around to lay flat against my chest, marveling at how professional it makes me feel.My first-day nerves have settled a little bit now that I’ve spoken with Trevor, who has put me at ease in a way I hadn’t expected.He’s such a kind man.If I had to guess, knowing he played hockey more than twenty years ago, I’d put him around the age of my dad.
“Wilkes here,” he says in a pleasant tone.I try to busy myself and remain occupied with something other than eavesdropping in on his conversation.
