I make my way to Pete’s office. It’s smaller than Gavin’s, but quite nicely decorated. It’s ergonomic like Gavin’s, but has a softer edge. Maybe he inherited the space from some female executive.
Pete is dark-haired and bright-eyed. He doesn’t seem that much older than me, but he’s already a level higher. I’m sure Sally’s right about him being smart. Gavin didn’t build OWM and its sterling reputation by employing fools.
“Hi. I’m Pascal Snyder. I heard you’re expecting me?”
He looks up from his laptop. “Hi.” He stands and walks around his desk, extending a hand. “Pete Monroe. Nice to meet you.” He eyes my purse and the coffee tumbler. “Have you been to your office yet?”
I shake my head with a small smile, slightly embarrassed that it never even occurred to me in my excitement. “I don’t even know where it is.”
“Tsk. Sally should’ve shown you.” He sighs. “She can be absent-minded at times. Anyway, it’s two doors down. We don’t do cubicles at OWM.”
“I noticed.” I haven’t seen any, except for the ones for admins and receptionists.
“But since Sally knows you’re here, IT’s going to bring your laptop in the next ten minutes, and when they do, I want you to work on the documents and projections I sent to your work email this morning, along with some models.”
Excitement suffuses me. Hitting the ground running is exactly what I need and want. “Sure.”
“As for the welcome lunch, it needs to be next week or something. Hilary will let us know. Gavin wants to come, and that means some schedule juggling.”
“Oh.” That surprises me. Dad never attended those welcome events at SFG. “Are there a lot of new hires?”
“Nope. Just you and someone else we need to make a decision on. Gavin doesn’t come all the time, but you’re his hire, so…” He shrugs with a smile.
The hint of humor in his eyes lessens my anxiety. I thought for a second maybe Pete resented that he wasn’t part of the interview process, since he’s the one who has to work with me.
“If you need help with your assignment, feel free to ask. We have a vested interest in your success. After all, it’s also our success.”
I smile warmly, glad to hear that he cares that I do well here. It might just be something he says to every new hire, but it’s nicer than my dad’s dismissiveness. “Thanks.”
I go to the empty office Pete shows me. It’s pretty basic—white walls, a few shelves and a desk—but I don’t care. I take my seat. The chair is to die for, molding to my back and butt to give me the ultimate comfort and support. I run a hand along the edge of my desk, thrills tingling up my arm. Wow. I feel like I could soar into space right now.
As soon as I put my purse away in a desk drawer, the IT guy Pete mentioned shows up and gives me my laptop, corporate ID and password.
Only four emails pop up on my inbox, which is…surprising. Most companies have hundreds of emails flying back and forth—in a huge list for everyone, then sub-lists segmented by interest, region, industry and whatever subcommittees you’re on. I’m actually glad. I disliked wasting so much time sorting through them to find the ones that I actually needed.
Since Pete’s assignment is waiting for me, I start on that immediately, determined to do a good job. The first impression is critical. I don’t want Gavin or Pete to think I’m a mistake.
Lots of numbers, complex models. Whoever worked on them thought of almost everything. But…
I drum my fingers as the models dump out numbers and projections. I don’t really like the recommendations. They all indicate buy, but my gut says sell. It’s the qualitative data that make me uncertain.
Do you really want to challenge the models Pete is giving you on your first day?
Obviously not if they’re fine, but…they aren’t. I don’t want to put my name on a memo with something I don’t believe in.
On the other hand, what if Pete’s the one who actually made the models? Will his ego be able to handle a challenge? Especially one from a woman?
Ugh. This is so complicated. I hope it isn’t some kind of test.
In the end, I decide that all I can do is say what I think. I type up a memo, listing both the model-based recommendations and my own feelings about them. Then I email it to Pete and lean back in my seat, anxiety coiling like a snake in my gut.
It’s already a little after one. I got so wrapped up in the work that I didn’t realize how much time was passing. I run to a shop a block away from the office and grab a quick sandwich and chips. I’m not really hungry, but if I don’t eat, my blood sugar is going to crash.
Back at my desk, I’m finishing the food and wadding up the waxy paper when Pete knocks on my door.
“Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”
Shit. Is he already done reading my memo? Gotta stay cool. He might’ve not totally hated it. “Sure.” I toss the paper ball into the wastebasket and take a quick sip of coffee. “What’s up?”