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I chuckle softly as we continue on. She takes me into the employee lounge, which is an enormous room filled with tables. It's got large flat-screen TVs on the walls, and vending machines filled with various drinks and pre-packaged foods. But the place looks more like a fully-functioning cafeteria than a simple employee lounge. There's a fully-staffed coffee bar and a food counter with a variety of hot foods.
In the back of the huge room are a couple of pool tables, ping pong tables, and video games. It's almost like, a college lounge or something. There are a few people scattered around, some engaged in quiet conversations over coffee, others hunched over their laptops, banging away furiously at the keys.
“This is where we all go to unplug every now and then,” Lara tells me. “Mr. Steel believes that we should be free to work where it's most comfortable for us, be it in our office, or down here in the lounge. He feels that sometimes we just need to get away from those four walls.”
“Wow, he seems like a very – lenient – boss.”
Lara laughs softly. “He expects a lot from us. He expects us to be the best at what we do and like I told you when we interviewed – he can be very demanding and challenging at times,” she explains. “But, like I also told you, he's one of the most generous bosses you'll find. He gives a ton back to us.”
As I look around the lounge, I think back to my last job. I think about the people who worked there – they were bitter, angry, and wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of a place that gave you perks like letting you get out of your office and work in the lounge. I know some people I used to work with who'd probably park themselves in front of that food bar and gorge themselves on the food, all while doing absolutely no actual work.
Lara's giving me a sideways glance and the expression on her face makes it seem like she's reading my mind.
“At Frontline, we believe in a strong, vibrant morale in the company. We believe that happy employees will always strive to work hard and do their best,” she explains. “That's why Mr. Steel is so generous, and we have facilities like this. It's his way of showing appreciation for the hard work we all do and giving back to us. It's kind of hard to take advantage of such a great situation, don't you think?”
Okay, maybe she actually can read my mind. Yeah, that's not creepy or anything.
“Yeah. Absolutely,” is all I can think to say.
It's such a night and day contrast from any other place I've worked that I'm astounded by it. This company – this Mr. Steel in particular – seems to value his employees. It's something I'm not used to, didn't expect, and am trying to absorb.
“Come on,” Lara gives me a smile.
We walk the other floors of the building as she introduces me to a few people and explains the roles of the various departments. Some of it's interesting. Some bores me to tears. The one thing I can say is consistent throughout the entire building is that the people working there seem genuinely happy.
It's impressive and tells me a little bit about the man I'll be reporting to. I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with the idea of being his personal assistant yet, though. I've done clerical work and administrative assistant work, but I've never been somebody's personal assistant. I've heard plenty of horror stories about it, which is making me – apprehensive.
I mean, sure, his employees all seem happy and content. That should speak well to his character. But making some random person in his coding department happy to work there – somebody he's probably never met and doesn't know – is a lot different than having to be in constant contact with him. Lara herself told me he can be challenging and difficult, which speaks to another side of his character – one that the faceless, anonymous employees don't see.
A side of his character I'll be exposed to day in and day out.
“Okay, we've seen all the high points, so let's head back down to the HR offices,” Lara chirps.
I give her a smile and follow her back down to the offices. She leads me to a conference room, rather than her own office this time and waiting for me is a folder filled with paperwork. I look at it with wide eyes. I've had to sign work documents before, but not a folder's worth of them.
I sit down in the chair and flip the folder open, scanning the first few pages. Lara checks her phone and keys something into her tablet.
“The basics are all in there, along with a few standard NDAs. You'll also find the offer sheet for the position. I encourage you to read everything through very carefully,” she explains. “I have to step out for a bit, so take your time and I'll come back and check on you. In the meantime, if you have any questions, take them to my assistant, Rachel. She'll either be able to answer them directly or find the person who can.”
I give her a nod and a rueful smile. “Great,” I reply. “Thank you.”
Lara nods and leaves the conference room, the door swinging silently shut behind her. I stare through the plate glass windows that make up the wall to my left and see a few of the employees hovering around their cubicles, staring in at me. I've never felt more like a zoo exhibit in all my life.
Turning back to the folder, I skim the pages, noting where each of the red flags I'll need to sign are located. I'm not officially an employee – not until I sign on all of the dotted lines. I pick up the pen and tap it against the table, my mind whirling and careening with thoughts. At the forefront of my mind is what Olivia and I talked about – me selling the condo and living in her guest house until I finished school. There are a lot of reasons I should, and few reasons I shouldn't do it. But those few reasons are strong and leave me feeling more confused than anything.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. I silently list out all of the pros and cons I've come up with for taking Olivia up on her deal. I still get stuck on the condo being the last bit of my dad I have left. Yeah, it's walls, concrete, and glass. It's not him, and I probably shouldn't feel this sentimental about it. It's silly. I wonder if she's right and that holding onto it could be preventing me from achieving my dreams.
I flip to the tab marked “Offer Sheet” and feel my eyes practically pop out of my head. This has to be a mistake. A typo or something. I do the math quickly and realize that the offer on the sheet in front of me is about fifteen percent higher than the listed salary from the original job posting. Yeah, somebody had to have screwed up putting this folder together. It'd be nice to think otherwise, but I'm going to have to bring this to somebody's attention.
The door to the conference room opens and I look up, expecting to see Ms. Reynolds coming in. When I see who's actually stepping through the door, my heart pretty much stops in my chest. My mouth goes dry as I look at him. A specter from my past. He stands just inside the doorway, a wide, bright smile on his face.
“I trust the offer sheet is to your satisfaction?”
And just like that, I'm transported back in time.
* * * * *
“Are you following me?”
