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The line was silent for a moment, and I started to wonder if the call had dropped.
“Excellent. I will speak with you then,” he finally answered.
“Goodbye, Mr. Brighton.”
“Goodbye, Allison.”
I set the receiver down and tried to ignore the way my hand was shaking.
Chapter Five
By three o’clock, I had managed to regain my composure and was escorted into the design meeting with my shoulders squared, game face on. Bryce walked me to the design department conference and led me inside. A group of people stopped everything the moment I entered the room and it was oddly quiet.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Bryce started as people filed around the table and took their seats. I hung back slightly, my hands clasped in front of me so I wouldn’t start fidgeting. I needed these people to respect me and the only way to get that was to not reveal my inexperience. None of them knew I used to work as a barista and that I’d never coordinated anything more complicated than a birthday party.
Bryce continued, “This is Allison Rand. I know most of you were introduced to her at the meeting yesterday. Mr. Brighton has placed her in charge of his account, to act as an ambassador on his behalf to ensure that his needs are being met and to keep everyone on the same page.”
A few people seemed to be hidin
g their smirks behind their hands, others refused to make eye contact, and a couple gave me steely glares.
“Now as you know, the Plush account is our largest, most profitable account, and Mr. Brighton has very specific needs. Allison is here to help and reduce the friction that has become a problem over the last few weeks as we all work to get this newest campaign ready for fall. Are there any questions?”
He surveyed the room, looking for any sign of life but the group remained silent at his question.
“Excellent. Then I’ll hand things over to Allison.” He nodded in my direction and I smiled back. I held his eye contact for a moment, trying to absorb some of his confidence, before I turned to address the room.
“Thank you, Bryce,” I started. My eyes flashed around the room and my stomach flipped over. I swallowed hard and snuck a glance at the note cards taped to the front page of my legal pad. “The first, uh, thing is that I want you all to know that I am here to help. I’m not here to criticize anyone or their work. I’ve seen the designs that have been submitted to Mr. Brighton, and I think they’re good. But, I think with a few tweaks, they could be great. I’ll be the first to say that I am not a designer and I’m not here to try and become one.”
Somewhere, about halfway through my monologue, the tension seemed to release in the room and everyone loosened up a little bit. The glares present at the beginning softened into expressions of interest and some people even started to take notes as I flipped through the design pages and passed along my feedback as well as the notes from the emails I had been flooded with all day from Mr. Brighton.
At the end of the meeting, I took a deep breath and couldn’t help but smile to myself. Everyone dispersed and some people even thanked me on their way out of the conference room, notebooks full, ready to put action to the ideas I had just presented.
“That was impressive,” Bryce said when we were the last two people in the room. “I honestly don’t think it could have gone better.”
“Thank you. Before today, I would have never imagined myself being able to speak to such a large group about anything, but especially not something like this. I feel like I really made a difference.”
“You were a leader in there, and you gained their respect. I’m sure Mr. Brighton would be very pleased.” He smiled broadly, teasing me.
I rolled my eyes. “I just hope the designs come out right. Then this drama can be over and I can go back to my computer where it’s safe. This was a rush, but not exactly the kind of thing I want to do on a daily basis.”
“Are you sure? You pretty much kicked some corporate ass in there.”
I laughed. “Thank you, but yes, I’m sure.”
***
The only positive thing about working late was that I missed the headache of rush hour traffic. By the time I arrived home, it was already eight o’clock. I was starving, sweaty, and exhausted. I fumbled around in my purse as I dragged myself up the last flight of stairs to my apartment, looking for my keys. I looked up just in time to avoid tripping over a huge box that was placed right in front of my door. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember ordering anything online in the last few days. I stooped over and read the address label.
It was from Plush, Inc.
Of course it was.
“Ugh!” I grunted as I unlocked the door and pushed it into the apartment. My cat, Sam, ran over and instantly started attacking the cardboard with his claws.
“My thoughts exactly,” I said, scratching him behind the ears.
I kicked out of my heels and ripped off my blazer. The downside of wearing long sleeves was that I felt like I was having hot flashes all day. The next thing to go was my pencil skirt and shirt. I threw those on the bed and then stripped off my shape wear and panty hose. Finally free of all the layers, I flopped onto the bed and exhaled—the wear and tear of the day seeping away as I basked in the freedom from my corporate life costume.
