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The outfit was honestly the most stressful part of getting ready, which is why I chose it ahead of time. I've never had money to spend on clothes, so finding professionally acceptable attire in my wardrobe was somewhat of a challenge. Needless to say, I think I've managed the task by pairing a pair of black dickies with a white button-down and grey cardigan. On the other hand, my shoes may or may not fit the bill. They are a pair of red flats. Isn't a pop of color a thing nowadays?
The entire week will be spent in training, so my outfits don't have to fit my role just yet, which will be more laid back considering the type of work I'll be doing. For training, I figured I needed to shoot for business casual. I never wear very much make-up, usually just eye mascara and eye shadow when I'm really trying. I hate foundation. I've always felt like I have a layer of cake on my face when I wear it. Since my hair is super thick, I'm going to straighten it this morning, making getting ready for the remainder of the week a breeze. If I straighten my hair today, it should hold for at least four days. I was blessed in the hair department for sure. Now, height, that's another story.
There have been days that I prayed for another two inches of growth, but seeing as I'm eighteen, I don't think that will happen. I'll just have to find a way to make peace with the five-foot-three-inch stature I've been given. Before heading out of my room, I grab my purse, keys, and notebook before swiping on some light pink lip gloss.
My mom and I plan on carpooling eventually to save on gas money, but we probably won't start that until next week. Since I have training this week, our schedules don't align. I will be getting in earlier and leaving earlier than her. I'm not too upset about not having to hound her every morning about staying on track so we're not late.
Pullingintotheparkinglot of Reds, I take note of the time on the clock. It's 6:45 am. I still have fifteen minutes before training starts, but I'm nothing if not punctual, so I decide to head in. I don't want to be the last person to arrive, and if I'm the first, I'll get my choice of seating. I'm nervous, even though it's not like I've never been here and don't know anyone. The only people I don't know will be the ones in training with me.
The front of Reds looks like any typical office complex, with blacked-out windows lining the exterior of the red brick building. A person would be none the wiser that attached to the back of the complex is a complete manufacturing operation.
As you walk into the main lobby, the receptionist Anette who has been there for decades, greets you. She has a thick southern draw and emulates warmth should she deem you worthy. You don't want to cross her. I've heard she can be treacherous should you get on her wrong side.
While I feel like I'm on her good side. I never let my guard down. From a young age, I learned people will tell you what they think you want to hear regardless of its merit, and depending on how old you are, they're not concerned with the integrity of the word. People are rarely faithful to their word unless they believe you have something to offer them in return.
"Good morning, Ms. Anette. How are you doing this morning?" She is not someone that manners are lost upon. On the contrary, she expects to be greeted and takes it personally should you try to engage without first a proper hello.
"Good morning, Gianna. Are you finally here to stay with us the entire day? I know you were hoping to be brought on full-time, and seeing as how you're here bright and early, I'm assuming that means you are here for training."
Shifting my weight from foot to foot and twisting my fingers tightly around my phone, full of nervous energy, I murmur, "Yes, it looks like they like me more than I thought. I'm only here for the summer, but hopefully, they'll see my dedication and ability to get tasks done in a timely manner as an asset and keep me forever." Then, with a smirk and a faint chuckle, she retorts, "That's just the attitude you need my dear, to survive in the shark tank. Good luck. I'll buzz you back."
No one can enter the offices or plant without first going through security. Two years ago, my mother told me that one of the owner's friends/board members turned adversary was released from federal prison. He was embezzling money from the company and using fear tactics to hush other members who had caught on to his dirty deeds.
Apparently, he would have them over on a one-on-one basis, talk business, and schmooze them while making a big deal of his gun collection. He was making his intentions clear. If they didn't fall in line, they would be taken care of in other ways.
Once caught, he was sent to federal prison. Turns out not only was he threatening people's lives he was taking their money under the guise of investments and skipping out on taxes. He spent six years in federal prison, and the weekend he was released, he sat down in church right behind Augustus as if he had never missed a day. That next week Augustus Branson the owner of Reds had security installed at every location.
Making my way down the hall to the front conference room where the training will be held for the week, I can’t help but feel like the moment is surreal. I Gianna Moretti worked my but off and now I have a real job and opportunity to show for it.
As expected, I'm the first person to make it in. Phyllis is in the back of the conference room sorting out materials.
Phyllis is an older woman, probably in her sixties with short grey hair, a squatty body, and dresses like my grandma. I've only met her one other time, and she seems to be as lovely as a grandma would be, and honestly, if you work in HR, that's an excellent trait to have.
"Good morning, Phyllis. I know I'm early, but I figured I could get a good seat."
"No worries, Gianna, you're not that early, and I'm sure it will be an interesting week given who our new hires are. So, you may as well get in early to clear your head before the drama begins."
Before I can question her more on whom she's referring to or why they would hire someone they thought would cause issues, other new hires begin to file in. I take a seat up front. It's closest to the door and brings me comfort for some reason. I don't like to feel like I'm trapped.
Nearing seven o'clock, I look around at the people in my group, sizing them up. There are five guys and me. Typically, this room is arranged in one big rectangle so that people can collaborate face to face, but the rectangle has been broken up into tables of two. Each table faces the entry door and the projector is set up for viewing on the wall beside it.
No one has sat by me, and that's fine. Of course, I am the youngest person in the class. The closest person to my age is probably thirty. Phyllis makes her way to the front of the room, getting ready for introductions.
"Good morning. I'm glad to see you are all on time and settling in. My name is Phyllis, and I am the HR Training Manager. Today we will take a few minutes to go around the room and introduce ourselves, and then we will dive into corporate policies and procedures as well as workplace violence and harass—"
Before she can finish the sentence, another man walks through the door, somewhat disheveled. He doesn't acknowledge Phyllis and walks straight to the back of the room to take his seat. A thought occurs to me then, maybe this is the person Phyllis was referring to this morning that would cause drama. It would be all too serendipitous that this guy walks in when she mentions workplace violence and harassment. Talk about omens.
Phyllis tries to appear unaffected by the interruption and clears her throat to pick up where she left off, not even addressing the newcomer.
"As I said, we will discuss violence in the workplace and sexual harassment, and then we will probably break for lunch. The timeline is somewhat lax so that we have time for questions and discussions should the need for clarification arise."
All I know is that less than two minutes ago, I was perfectly content, relaxed, and ready to kick some training ass, but now it feels like a heavy fog has settled in the room, and the air is thick with tension. Not only is it hard to breathe, but the hairs on the back of my neck are starting to prick up as if I'm being watched. How can one person change the dynamic of an entire group with just their presence alone?
August
Four
Ihavetheworsthangover known to man, and now I must sit in training like I'm not the fucking guy that will be taking over the company. Seriously this is not only a misuse of resources, but it’s also degrading. If my dad wants me to show interest in this place, this is not the way to do it. Sitting through boring-ass corporate policies that don't even apply to me is a complete waste.
