was about to begin; the weekend was just an adjusting period.
On Monday morning I was up at 6 in the morning; we were leaving at 8 so I had just enough time to get in the shower, have my hair done and put on some make up. I decided that I was now someone’s personal assistant so I didn’t have the need to look the part, at least not the “boss,” part. I put on a black pant suit a red shirt and pulled my hair up in a pony tail, red pumps and red purse. I thought that it was the right look for Maynard’s assistant as everyone was going to know me from then on. I was in the kitchen at 7:30 having a glass of OJ and a quick bagel with cream cheese when I heard Patrick going into the kitchen. He gave me a look and went out to the dining room again. I grabbed the tray with the coffee and the paper and went outside.
“Coffee,” I said and he reached his hand out, “Paper,” I said he drank the first cup of coffee in a single sip and nodded. Post coffee Patrick was back.
“Breakfast?” I asked and he looked at his watch and shook his head no.
“Leaving?” I asked again and he nodded.
“See you in the car in 10,” Was all he said and I nodded.
“No breakfast,” I said going into the kitchen.
“Oh honey, it’s going to be a bad day,” said Miranda. I looked at her feeling panicky on the inside she went on. “Breakfast and midnight snacks are his favorite meals, if he is not having breakfast he is in a terrible mood,” I nodded and grabbed two thermoses, filled them with coffee, grabbed my purse and went to greet the boss.
“Here,” I said giving him one of the thermoses.
“What is it?” he asked, still in a horrible mood.
“Coffee,” He immediately drank it in a single sip.
“Thank you,” he said sounding more normal. We rode in silence for a while until he felt ready to speak, “You look nice, by the way,” he said turning to look at me.
I smiled; maybe I was going to be able to scare the bad mood away before getting to the office. We had one hour to figure that out.
“Thank you,” I said sounding cheerful, “do I look the part?”
“Well, what part do you want to look?” he asked raising his eyebrows. See! Right there! I was bringing good mood back. That sounded just like a Justin Timberlake song, right? “Maynard’s assistant,” I said smiling.
“Then you definitely don’t look the part,” I must have had the saddest look on my face because he laughed out loud and went on, “It’sn’t bad, Lucinda. Most of my assistants look like they have been run over by a bus. Their hair is always a mess, no makeup, surely no high heels,” he said looking at my feet and with a smile on his face he said, “You look like someone with an assistant of her own.”
“Is that bad?” I asked still worried.
“Not bad, not good. It’s you; Lucinda and I hired you for you. Although I don’t think you’ll be ‘Maynard’s assistant’ for long,” he shook his head while smiling.
“What?”I was confused.
“People will want to remember your name,” he said and smiled. I didn’t know if I wanted that. I wanted to be Maynard’s assistant; I wanted to blend in so much that I would be someone’s assistant and nothing more.
“Lucinda,” I heard Patrick’s voice; it was barely 11 in the morning and I had already been inside his office six times; had met with Brian in HR, signed 2 contracts, had my picture taken; gave orders to people that were behind on some deadlines and now I was on my way for the seventh time to his office.
“Yes, Patrick?” I asked going in; he had a face that could easily resemble someone that possessed by the devil himself. So much I even took two steps back in case he was about to spit fire at me.
“Close the door,” he said as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. I did as he said. “Sit down,” I did as he said. AGAIN. In the last three days I had learnt something very useful: When Patrick is in a bad mood you just do as he says and
On Monday morning I was up at 6 in the morning; we were leaving at 8 so I had just enough time to get in the shower, have my hair done and put on some make up. I decided that I was now someone’s personal assistant so I didn’t have the need to look the part, at least not the “boss,” part. I put on a black pant suit a red shirt and pulled my hair up in a pony tail, red pumps and red purse. I thought that it was the right look for Maynard’s assistant as everyone was going to know me from then on. I was in the kitchen at 7:30 having a glass of OJ and a quick bagel with cream cheese when I heard Patrick going into the kitchen. He gave me a look and went out to the dining room again. I grabbed the tray with the coffee and the paper and went outside.
“Coffee,” I said and he reached his hand out, “Paper,” I said he drank the first cup of coffee in a single sip and nodded. Post coffee Patrick was back.
“Breakfast?” I asked and he looked at his watch and shook his head no.
“Leaving?” I asked again and he nodded.
“See you in the car in 10,” Was all he said and I nodded.
“No breakfast,” I said going into the kitchen.
“Oh honey, it’s going to be a bad day,” said Miranda. I looked at her feeling panicky on the inside she went on. “Breakfast and midnight snacks are his favorite meals, if he is not having breakfast he is in a terrible mood,” I nodded and grabbed two thermoses, filled them with coffee, grabbed my purse and went to greet the boss.
“Here,” I said giving him one of the thermoses.
“What is it?” he asked, still in a horrible mood.
“Coffee,” He immediately drank it in a single sip.
“Thank you,” he said sounding more normal. We rode in silence for a while until he felt ready to speak, “You look nice, by the way,” he said turning to look at me.
I smiled; maybe I was going to be able to scare the bad mood away before getting to the office. We had one hour to figure that out.
“Thank you,” I said sounding cheerful, “do I look the part?”
“Well, what part do you want to look?” he asked raising his eyebrows. See! Right there! I was bringing good mood back. That sounded just like a Justin Timberlake song, right? “Maynard’s assistant,” I said smiling.
“Then you definitely don’t look the part,” I must have had the saddest look on my face because he laughed out loud and went on, “It’sn’t bad, Lucinda. Most of my assistants look like they have been run over by a bus. Their hair is always a mess, no makeup, surely no high heels,” he said looking at my feet and with a smile on his face he said, “You look like someone with an assistant of her own.”
“Is that bad?” I asked still worried.
“Not bad, not good. It’s you; Lucinda and I hired you for you. Although I don’t think you’ll be ‘Maynard’s assistant’ for long,” he shook his head while smiling.
“What?”I was confused.
“People will want to remember your name,” he said and smiled. I didn’t know if I wanted that. I wanted to be Maynard’s assistant; I wanted to blend in so much that I would be someone’s assistant and nothing more.
“Lucinda,” I heard Patrick’s voice; it was barely 11 in the morning and I had already been inside his office six times; had met with Brian in HR, signed 2 contracts, had my picture taken; gave orders to people that were behind on some deadlines and now I was on my way for the seventh time to his office.
“Yes, Patrick?” I asked going in; he had a face that could easily resemble someone that possessed by the devil himself. So much I even took two steps back in case he was about to spit fire at me.
“Close the door,” he said as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. I did as he said. “Sit down,” I did as he said. AGAIN. In the last three days I had learnt something very useful: When Patrick is in a bad mood you just do as he says and
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