I had a meeting with the vice president first thing. His assistant had slipped it into my diary two days ago without explanation. It sucked being the bottom feeder who apparently didn’t even deserve any hints as to whether it was a hire or fire moment.
If I wasn’t offered a job, I might be stuck back at home, taking pity shifts as a medical receptionist at my parents’ practice, as though nothing had changed since I was 16 years old. As though my entire sporting career had never existed. Sometimes I thought it might be better if it never had.
Needless to say, I was not inspired, not any more, and I might very soon also be unemployed.
Usually, I waved to the receptionist and glanced hopefully at the trophy wall, but that day I slunk past with little more than a mumble and headed to my desk in the open-plan office. I just had time to knock back an espresso – a skill I’d mastered over months spent in Italy and France during the racing season – before I headed to the VP’s office to hear my fate.
Bill Weekes, Executive Vice President and Head of Account Management, was too big a fish to be my direct supervisor, but he held the purse strings for my department and I suspected he had the sadistic streak required to give tiny cogs in his machine sleepless nights, waiting in suspense.
‘Leesa!’ he boomed unnecessarily, as though my appearance in response to his summons was a surprise. He dragged out the ‘ee’ in my name, even though I pronounced it like ‘Lisa’. It was still a mystery to me why my parents had saddled me with the unusual spelling – a long-winded explanation instead of a first name, as though they wanted me to be special, but ended up with simply ‘complicated’. ‘Come in, come in. Sit down. Would you like anything? Coffee? I can get Julie to—’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Perhaps I shouldn’t have interrupted him, this big cock in the marketing henhouse – no pun intended – but I didn’t want to hear him pimp out Julie’s coffee-making services. I met his gaze expectantly, which I possibly also shouldn’t have done.
‘Right then, well, you must be wondering what this meeting is about.’
I held in my sarcastic response with my last hopes that this was a ‘hire me’ moment and not the opposite.
‘You understand, Leesa, salaries are our biggest expense.’
Not my shitty wage, but okay. My chest felt hollow and my head pounded. I understood. Food and housing for me – independence, vindication, purpose – was an expense for him. The all-powerful bottom line was getting ready to slice me off, even though I’d had nothing but good feedback over the past four months.
‘We can’t hire every intern.’
‘I understand.’
He eyed me, as though I’d said something wrong, as though dying inside wasn’t allowed in his office. The poor cleaner would have to wipe me off the floor.
‘I thought you had a lot of promise.’
Oh crap, now I had to listen tohisdisappointment? I was already panicking about how to tell my parents, who had their own trophy wall for their only child: my school certificates – framed and hanging alongside their medical degrees in Polish – andonecycling trophy, the only one they’d deemed an equivalent achievement to my studies, the stylised wave from last year’s Great Ocean Road Race.
He wasn’t the first person to tell me I wasn’t reaching my potential.
I struggled to tune back in as he continued speaking. ‘It’s a shame, since I would have a project for you, except you’re sure to refuse it.’
‘What?’ I breathed out through pursed lips to slow down my brain. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. I’m interested – in anything.’
‘That’s not what you said when you started here.’
I could barely remember what I’d had for breakfast in this panic state, let alone what I’d said four months ago.
‘I wanted to send Morgan, but the event is in July and, as you know—’
‘They’re getting married,’ I finished for him.
‘I’m having real trouble finding the right person. Content creation at an important event in Europe in July, weeks away from home in a hotel – it’s a hardship assignment.’
I couldn’t quite stifle my snort. It sounded like a dream – actual responsibility, performing the work I’d studied for ten years to do. And travel – I didn’t even care where. With my non-existent vacation time I’d travelled precisely nowhere since I moved to LA. Plus, the hardship hotel would solve the pressing practical problem of the end of my cheap sublet.
‘I’m sure I can do it,’ I blurted out.
Bill continued speaking, as though he hadn’t heard me. ‘It’s a hardship for anyone with a family or a partner anyway. You don’t have commitments, do you?’
I hated to think of the colour of my face as I shook my head. The whole office must know my social life had been non-existent for… even longer than they thought, actually.
‘None at all. I’m completely free in July – June and August too.’And I really need a job.
‘But, alas, I completely respect your wishes, so I can’t ask you to take on this project. It would have been excellent experience for you – working with a major talent in the sport.’
