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How I wanted to be seen.
Yes, sure, I love a good weekend with great people and loud music, but the real treat is the peace and quiet of my own four walls that I call home, curled up on the couch with a tub of vanilla ice cream and my best friend nearby.
Early on, I learned that appearance is everything in our circles, so my true self stays hidden most of the time, and only very few people know about its existence.
The insecurities I was trying to push away started flooding in uninvited. And I have plenty, I simply know how to hide them all too well.
He made sure I knew my place for two years straight, and I am still recovering from his influence. So, for now, my motto is fake it, till you make it.
And by He, I mean my bastard of an ex, whom I was head over heels for and basically worshiped the ground he walked on. That also means I took every word like a sponge soaking up water. I believed every damn letter.
The joke’s on me.
But life moves on and I am ready for a new chapter, a new fight.
Anyhow, I check myself out one last time, put my shiny armor on, and head out.
The Fashion Linc offices are at the One World Trade Center, and I take a cab to get there.
I own a car but prefer to avoid driving it in New York. I’d like to keep breathing and living with all my limbs intact; thank you very much. It’s enough to watch Kate straddle that iron horse of hers every morning and spend the whole day in silent prayers that she comes home alive.
Yes, my shy little friend owns a bike and is overall not so shy anymore. How the roles got reversed…
We pull up to the front door, and suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of hot nerves. They shake me from top to bottom, and I barely hold on to keep myself steady.
Whoa, girlfriend, come down!
You can do this. It’s just an internship. Nothing complicated about it. No high-profile clients or top management to deal with.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Here we go.
***
As soon as I walked in through the front door, excitement mingled with those nerves, and I walked over to the elevator on shaky legs. But when the doors opened, and I came face to face with my dream office, dream job, and team, there wasn’t a trace of those nerves left.
I was greeted by a lovely woman, Julie, the employee coordinator here, as well as the assistant manager of the creative team. She is close to her forties with dark brown hair and greeneyes. Her regal posture that says, “I’m nice but don’t fuck with me.”
I like her already.
“Welcome to Fashion Linc,” she says and extends her hand toward me. I take it and shake it in return with a smile.
“Thank you, I am so excited.”
“Great, let’s start with a complete tour, and then I’ll show you your workspace, and we will go over your duties here.”
She directs me to the left and starts pointing out different rooms on the sides. The walls are made of glass, but some are covered with shades to keep wondering eyes away. The whole space is stylish but not chic at all. It’s actually pretty masculine looking.
“This is the break room, copy room, and storage room. From there on, it’s the offices of managers and creative teams.” She points toward the long hallway lined with dark wood doors. Some of them have secretaries seated in front of their desks, and some don’t.
In the middle of the whole setup are those grey, dreaded cubicles. I already imagine how I will decorate it to make the space more alive.
Julie explains that HR and the tech teams are one floor below us, and above, we have the executive offices where the CEO, CFO, COO, and so on. Also, the big conference room is located there, and that is the only place our boss—Mr. Landon Locke—holds all the meetings. Because coming down to us mortals is beneath him.
Can’t say I am sad about that. I don’t know much about the man, but just his name screams arrogance and intimidation.
I’ve had enough intimidating and arrogant men to last a lifetime already.
