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A tall reception desk sits across from the elevator doors in the lobby. An older woman with a bob haircut is perched on the other side of it. Her inviting smile beckons me forward.
“I just got here. I have to go. I’ll call you later,” I tell her.
“Break a leg!” she says before hanging up.
I cut through the distance between me and the receptionist and head for the front desk to check in for my appointment.
“Hello, Juliet Di Costa. I have a nine am with Marjorie Carlton,” I tell her.
She glances down at a clipboard on her desk.
I don’t mean to but my eyes follow her line of site and I see the other four companies that made it to the shortlist, right below mine, in order of appointment time.
I swallow hard at the gravity of knowing that all of my competitors are companies that have been around many more years than me and have far bigger budgets than I do.
The bit of confidence from Shawnie’s pep talk has all but dissolved into thin air.
“Welcome,” she smiles. “I have you down, Ms. Di Costa. There’s coffee and sparkling water in the lobby. Help yourself. Penelope Roberts will be out to get you when they’re ready,” she offers.
I walk over to the well-stocked table that has a single-serve coffee machine and every creamer flavor imaginable available for consumption.
A small fridge with a glass door sits under the machine with three rows full of sparkling water flavors and bottled water.
Although coffee sounds amazing right now, I’ve already had three cups today, and one more might make me too jittery for my presentation.
I bend down to open the fridge, pulling out a single bottle of water and then I close the fridge door.
“Juliet Di Costa, Elite Event Planning?” A woman a little younger than me with long blonde beach waved hair says, smiling from the opening of the hallway.
“That’s me,” I say, raising my hand quickly.
I head for the woman in the hallway.
“Good morning. I’m Penelope Roberts and I will be sitting in on your presentation today,” she informs with her pearly white smile and bright blue eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “Thank you for having me.”
“The pleasure is ours. Follow me down the hall and we’ll get started,” she says, turning and giving her back to me as she starts walking.
I do as she says, following closely behind as I take it all the large memorabilia boxes attached to the walls. Each displaying pictures and old equipment, showcasing the Hawkeyes history over the many years.
“I’m the Administrative Assistant for the GM and I will be acting as one-third of the panel in today’s interview,” she says over her shoulder as we continue does the hallway. “Autumn Daughtry, our PR guru who handles a lot of our charity functions and team appearances with be our second on the panel, and of course, Marjorie Carlton, the owner’s wife will be the third and largest deciding factor on our panel today.”
She stops and then offers out her hand to signal us to enter the conference room where a table is already set out and two women are already seated.
They both stand as we enter. The youngest of the two, with medium-length light brown hair and a friendly smile greets us first.
I walk up to the conference table and reach out to shake her hand that she’s extended to me across the narrow table.
“I’m Autumn Daughtery, it’s very nice to meet you,” she says, as we shake.
Then the older woman stands and does the same, offering her hand across the table. Her smile is warm but her handshake says she means business.
I like her already.
“I’m Marjorie Carlton. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on short notice.”
“Absolutely! I wouldn’t have missed it. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you giving me an opportunity.”
