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She stood there, eyes flicking wide for a moment and in that breath, I thought I might have had her. But then she just gave a curt nod before turning to my underling.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Daniels. I’ll see you around the office, I’m sure.”
“I certainly do hope so,” the man said nervously, and I could see that he was actively trying to avoid catching my eye before scurrying out. He had nothing to fear from me, of course, the man did good work. But I supposed it was often intimidating for a mid-level manager to be so close to the man who controlled his entire livelihood.
But while Daniels scuttled, the new assistant walked at a standard pace, chin level with the floor and posture efficient as she exited. I watched her go, trying to see the moment she crumbled, but she held herself firm even as she talked to one of my secretaries, leaning slightly over their desk.
In that position it was impossible for my eyes not to flick to her round, thick bottom in that skirt of hers and I felt a strange sort of thrill that I hadn’t in a long time. Shaking my head, I returned back to my desk and pulled up my emails. I had a lot to do and couldn’t afford to waste time on someone I was sure wouldn’t even make it out of the probationary new employee period.
Good help was so hard to find.
Beverly
Grab coffee.
Run back to work.
Grab dry cleaning.
Run back to work.
Take diction.
Take minutes at a meeting.
Grab expensive sushi.
Run back to work.
Drop off dry cleaning.
Run back to work.
I found my days sinking into a frantic yet predictable rhythm that I sank my teeth into with everything I had.
Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t go easy on me because it was my first week, but I never expected him to. In fact, I liked to think that I had prepared myself quite well from all the stories I read online.
First of all, while I always wore sensible shoes, I did keep a pair of business heels in my small desk for meeting and other events where I might need to keep up appearances. I also made sure to have moleskin and bandages on hand for any blisters, abrasions or what have you that wanted to pop up. Not to mention clean socks. I remembered reading one story about an assistant who stepped in a puddle in the middle of one of GSME charity drive and wasn’t given a break to change it for hours.
Of course, that was just the tip of the ice burg. I always made sure I had a bottle of water and at least two power bars on me at all times. Sometimes I would be rushing from arrival at work until I left, and my only break would be in a taxi or elevator. While I was certainly supposed to have a lunch, I often used that time to get ahead on something or review my agenda on my desk.
Thankfully, almost all of my coworkers were kind. There were the usual tech heads that were standoffish and media stars who thought they were better than me, but they were few and far between.
But none of them really mattered, in the end. The only person of real importance to me was my boss.
And boy, he did not make it easy.
“I need you to drop off a package to the person and address listed. No one else. If they try to have you give it to a courier, or another assistant, refuse.” Mr. Fitzgerald said as they quickly walked down the hall to an elevator. Where the package was, I had no idea, but I was sure I’d be able to suss it out before too long.
“Yes, sir,” I replied shortly.
Mr. Fitzgerald had long, long legs and he did not shorten his strides for me. I often found myself having to hurrying along behind him to keep up, so I kept my replies short lest I sound breathless. Because breathless meant weakness, and I didn’t want to show even a single drop of incapability in his presence.
He stopped so suddenly that I almost crashed into his back, killing my momentum and rising up on my toes just in time to make sure I didn’t go careening into him.
“Sir?” he asked, those deep, chocolate eyes staring me down. “I don’t recall asking you to call me that.”
Crap. Had I already gotten in trouble? Or was this another test? I always felt like he was testing me, trying to find a weakness so he could get rid of me like all the others.
Well, I had never failed a test before and I certainly wasn’t going to now.
“Mr. Fitzgerald is five syllables long while Sir is only one. Considering how often we communicate, I thought it would waste less time to use the shorter honorific.” I paused for just a beat, deciding just how I wanted to play this. While I was a straight A student and determined to be the perfect employee, I also wanted him to know that he didn’t intimidate me. I’d been through far worse with far meaner people who held much more power over my head. “Sir,” I finished defiantly, tilting my chin up ever so slightly.
