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I pick up my permanent security badge, featuring the hideous picture of me from yesterday. Fabulous! We are off to a great start. Sarcasm included.
The building is much livelier this time of day, with people in hurry-mode. I look down to examine my attire. Navy high waist skirt, check. White patterned top, check. Green slingbacks, check. My brown hair is in a cute half-up sleek bun. Not too shabby, for a country girl.
This time, I share the elevator with at least eight other people. No one is touching me, but for some reason I feel like I'm on a New Delhi train. My social discomfort glows bright in these sort of situations, as I tightly grip the folder in my hands. I wonder if anyone in here has a sixth sense which enables them to identify my special brand of awkward? Hopefully not.
By the time I reach the 23 floor, I'm the only one still in the elevator. The doors slide open to a glowing Lizzy waving at me from the front desk.
She's dressed like the president of a Lilly Pulitzer fan club, blanketed in bright pastel. I wouldn't be surprised if they gave her a free glass of lemonade with that dress. It looks just like her, sweet and bubbly. She would be the perfect person to open some sort of high class Cracker Barrel.
"Good mornin' sunshine! Look at you! Hi, pretty as a picture. And you're fifteen minutes early," Lizzy praised. "You've even beat scary boss man here."
I awkwardly shrugged, "Didn't want to be late for my first day on the job. Oh, and here's my paperwork stuff." I handed her the folder, walked around to the other side of the desk, and set down my bag.
Lizzy already had a second chair set up so I could sit with her behind the long, tall desk. She gestured for me to sit and showed me how to 'clock in' on the computer. My username was easy, EmelineAdkins, and she let me reset the password to my choosing. (Iluvkittens4life!) Don't make fun, I guarantee your passwords are equally as dumb. And come on, kittens are adorable! Too bad, I'm deathly allergic.
*sad sigh*
"Oh my, Little Brennan is kickin' up a storm this morning," Lizzy announces, grabbing her adorable baby bump.
"That's a cute name," I tell her.
"Thanks!" she says, and then asks, "Would you like to feel?"
Before I can agree or deny, Lizzy has my hand pushed against the side of her belly. She obviously does not share my issues with personal space. I imagine her openly welcoming hospital interns into the birthing room 'to witness the miracle that is child birth'. I envy that level of comfort. Must be nice...
Oh weird, something definitely just poked my hand. "Weird, something definitely just poked my hand," I say, repeating my internal monologue. "I'm not used to high-fiving someone while they're in utero. It's actually pretty neat."
"Yep, it's one of my favorite parts about being pregnant. That is, until little Brennan decides to kick me in the ribs."
Lizzy and I small talk while she shows me around. There are only two offices on this floor, one being Mr. Branault's, and the other belongs to an internet security guy.(I'm guessing he's elevator guy #3 from yesterday) She also shows me a tiny break room, and a unisex bathroom. The rest of the floor houses an air-conditioned computer server room with state-of-the-art noise canceling.
Lizzy goes over some of the daily tasks I'll be doing. Writing emails. Answering phones, but almost always taking a message. Apparently, anyone important has Mr. Branault's personal number. There is an interconnected office instant message system that everyone uses to communicate. It's pretty much just texting using your computer and we connect it to my phone too. Lizzy says that my new boss will mostly use that to communicate with me, which makes me feel better, because (a) talking to new people, no thank you. And (b) talking to attractive, male, new boss people, double no thank you.
"So, how did things go with Mr. Branault yesterday?" I curiously ask Lizzy. "You think he'll kick me out before I even start?"
"Don't you even worry about him. He's all bark and no bite darlin'. I told him that he would get used to you, just like he got used to me," she said, giving me some comfort. "When I first came here, his father was the one who hired me. Charles tried making a fuss, claiming he couldn't understand half of what I said. But I needed this job so I stuck it out, and now we get along great. That's why I hired you Emeline. You strike me as the sorta girl who, if the bull bucks her off, she kicks it in the hiney and hops right back in the saddle."
"Uh...yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it." Now, I may be from Georgia, but Lizzy makes Merle Haggard look like a city slicker. "Well, thank you again for the opportunity to work here."
"Don't mention it! You're the one doin' me a favor." She pointed to her belly, using both index fingers, and smiled brightly. "Remember, about to pop over here."
I returned her smile, and then jumped a little when I heard the ding of the elevator and the doors sliding open.
Tailored navy pinstripe suit with a red pocket square, check. Crisp white shirt without a tie, check. Handmade Italian leather shoes, check.
Handsome scowling face, check. Me drooling all over myself like a Saint Bernard, sadly check.
"Good mornin' Charles!" Lizzy greeted. And I'm not sure if his scowl is due to my presence, not being a morning person, or just being a mean person in general. (Perhaps it's all three. Yay!)
"Morning Elizabeth," he mumbled, and grabbed a stack of mail from Lizzy's outstretched fingers. "Good morning Emeline."
I was momentarily stunned that he actually acknowledged my existence, but managed to get out a weak, "Good morning, Sir."
And once Mr. Branault disappeared down the hallway, Lizzy turned to me, "See! That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
It was better than I expected, but he still made me more uncomfortable than a feral cat attending the Westminster Dog Show.
"Yeah, that wasn't too bad," I agreed.
The rest of the morning flew by in a blur of training. Lizzy is a fast talker, but I forced myself to catch everything she was telling me, and I even took notes on my phone. When lunchtime rolled around Lizzy offered to take me to the cafeteria, I politely declined telling her I brought my own lunch. She promised to 'be back up in two shakes of a lamb's tail'.
I sat at the tiny break room table, relishing my leftover burger and the fact I wasn't crammed into a cafeteria with tons of strangers as I attempted small talk.
"Where's the burger from?" a low voice asks from behind me. I turn to see Mr. Branault making a coffee from the fancy machine that even my barista eyes don't recognize. I'm mentally reminding myself not to behave like a weirdo, as if that will help.
For me, acting cool is like painting beautiful artwork. I know what's used, I can see how it's done, even recognize the talent, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to recreate it.
"Um...it's from 'Branded', a burger place on Broome Street. They mostly sell burgers and fries," I say, like some redundant nitwit. Because what else would a burger place sell, Emmy? Duh!
"Riiight," he drawls, adding to my embarrassment. "So, Emeline..."
"You can call me Emmy," I interrupt. (Great, now he thinks you're dumb and rude)
"I like the sound of Emmy better," Mr. Branault says. "Emeline makes you sound like a character from 'little house on the prairie'."
I should probably be insulted by his observation, but instead, am compelled to laugh because I couldn't agree more. Emeline is totally a 'little house on the prairie' name. I'm just disappointed that I didn't think of it first.
"That it does," I agree.
He turns to fix his coffee, and I take note in case I have to make him one in the future. Two creams, no sugar, check.
"So, Emmy, did you apply for this job as a stepping stone into the finance world?" he sincerely asked, and I let out a gross sounding snort. (How come we never know when a snort sound will be coming from our body? You can be snortless for, like two years, and then boom! Worst time to snort in history)
"I'll take that as a no?" he said, and I wanted to crawl under the tiny bistro table.
"Yeah...um...yes it was a no. Definitely not a finance girl," I stumble.
"Well, don't get too comfortable. Lizzy will be back after her maternity leave," Mr. Branault says without pretense.
Tell me how you really feel, why don't ya...
"Um...okay," I weakly begin, closing my to-go box. "I guess I can appreciate your honesty."
He stares at me strangely for a moment, squinting his beautiful blue eyes, and says, "Interesting." Then, he leaves the break room.
He leaves the break room!
Not explaining what he meant by 'interesting.' You can't do that to a person who is constantly over analyzing their every move! Interesting how? Good? Bad? Interesting, as in, you have food on your face and clearly don't know about it? They say curiosity killed the cat, well, I believe it. Because, I would do some crazy dumb things to find out what that 'interesting' meant.
I head to the bathroom before going back to my new desk. I scrutinized my appearance in the mirror, unfortunately, no food on my face. No closer to solving this mystery. Where is Sherlock and Watson when you need them?
Lizzy returns, still all smiles, but looking a tad tired. She confirms my suspicion, saying, "Do you know how exhaustin' it is to grow a tiny human for nine months and not have coffee to help you get through it?"
"I can't even imagine," I say, and I truly can't. Coffee is one of the only reasons I get out of bed each morning. Coffee and having an embarrassingly weak bladder.
"Well, only four more hours to go," Lizzy encourages.
The afternoon flies by just like the morning. I tried to do the bulk of the work and just let Lizzy tell me if I did something wrong. Between typing emails, forwarding documents, and fielding phone calls, I'm too busy to notice that it hit five o'clock.
Day 1, success.
Lizzy and I were developing a nice little friendship. I admired her happy, carefree attitude. And she seemed happy to have another female around.
I also met Bao, the computer security guy, whose office is on our floor. And he looked young enough to be my child. Insanely nice and randomly gave me a snickers bar. Needless to say, move over Becca, Bao's becoming my new best friend.
While Lizzy was peeing for the eighteenth time today, I sent Mr. Branault a message letting him know I was heading out in case he needed anything else.
EmelineAdkins: need anything else? I'm about to head out...
CharlesBranault: No
EmelineAdkins: okay, have a good night
CharlesBranault: same
Not exactly warm and friendly, and not quite Cruella de Vil. I'll take what I can get.
One day down, not sure how many to go...
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How did you like Emmy's first day on the job?
Let me know!
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