1 - Paris
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” - Maya Angelou.
❀ Five months ago
I’ve been an accounting manager for something over a year now.
Started my career with an internship as an assistant accountant at the bottom and surely made my way up to financial consultant, providing the figures that the management of a business needed to make the right decisions.
Business is a man-driven world but I’ve made myself stand out and my opinion matter. I can proudly say that I’ve built out a successful career from scratch and worked my butt off to be where I am today.
From being the shy girl working behind the screens, making sure debit equals credit, to the woman I am today, who has a fully booked agenda with company CEOs who want a more proficient working accounting department.
If I can make them a coveted place in my calendar I’m royally paid for my services. I’ve traveled a lot this last year, taking me where I’m right now today: Paris.
This trip was not sponsored by one of my clients, but I’ve taken the weekend off to attend a seminar this Friday in Paris on managerial topics like company structure, use of ERP programs, and Database Management Systems.
Technology changes every day, and fast. You have to be up to date on the new programs and their functions. So that I can make a good decision on which one to use at different companies.
It is important in my field of expertise to keep moving and attend these types of events all over the world. The more accurate my information is the better I can be of service to my clients.
I was sitting at the bar of my hotel, drinking a gin & tonic to unwind from the long seminar I was in Paris for. I decided to take a hotel room for the duration and I would be checking out Sunday before noon.
I crossed my leg over my knee and scrolled through my phone checking my emails and updating my LinkedIn that I’ve attended this week’s conference. You needed to keep up with the times and Social Media was an important tool to be relevant.
The girls were missing me this weekend. Normally we would be dancing at a club and having a good time when I wasn’t traveling, but I had to leave. I was reading the texts in the group chat and they were at the pub already.
Missing you :( - Tess
Next weekend you better move your ass out of your apartment or I’ll drag you out myself! - Sarah
I missed them too. The downside of being successful was my absent presence. I would often miss birthdays and festivities. It hurt like hell to miss out but I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for my determination and result-driven nature.
In the same way, I had no time for romance in my life. I had been working non-stop since finishing college and I worked my way up, pushing forward to reach my goals.
I was finishing up my beverage, taking a ten out of my purse, and slipping it over the counter to pay when I saw a man walking into the almost empty bar. He wore a grey button-up shirt over his black slacks and the sleeves were rolled up, showing his defined forearms.
I’m a busy woman, not blind. When a good-looking specimen walks into my line of vision I will certainly look and this was a pretty damn fine one indeed.
Sporting a five o’clock shadow with a defined jaw that moved as he talked on the phone. His hand raked through his messy hair, which was cut taper fade on the sides, in annoyance.
It didn’t look like he was having a good conversation. I saw from his body language that he was displeased, he moved his fingers across the fine path of hair on his jawline and sighed as he sat down some stools down from me. He put his phone down and hung up on the call. I think I heard the other person still speaking before he hit the ‘end call’ button.
“Donnez-moi un bon whisky, s’il vous plaît” he said flagging down the bartender. (Give me a good whiskey, please.)
He had a slight English accent but at least he tried to speak the language. I found that an admirable quality, it was something that I tried to do as well if I could. It respected the country you traveled to and you bonded with the locals trying to learn more about their culture.
“Vous passez une mauvaise journée ?” I heard myself asking the good-looking stranger. (Having a bad day?)
He looked up puzzled, acknowledging my presence just now. His steel-blue eyes connected with my own and I held a breath as he took me in.
“Oui, mon agent m’envoie à nouveau dans un autre lieu,” he responded with a heavy sigh. (Yeah, my agent is sending me to another place again.)
The bartender brought him his scotch and deciding to stay a bit longer than intended I pointed at my drink to give me another round. The lean server locked eyes with me and gave me a lopsided grin.
“Vous n’aimez pas voyager ?” (not fond of travelling?)
“Cela ne me déplaît pas. C’est juste que j’ai été longtemps sur la route et que je veux juste rentrer chez moi pendant un certain temps.” He twirled the amber liquid around in his tumbler in thought before taking a sip. (It doesn’t displease me. it’s just that I’ve been a long time on the road and just want to go home for a while.)
“Je comprends. Je ne suis pas à la maison ce week-end et je suis en train de manquer quelque chose.” (I understand. I’m not home this weekend and I’m missing out.)
“D’où êtes-Vous ?” He asked, interested. (Where are you from?)
“Les États-Unis,” I responded. (The United States)
His eyes went wide before realization dawned on his features. He then started laughing, an enticing sound that drew goosebumps on my skin, and smacked his face with his hand.
“Really?” He chuckled. “And I’ve been doing my best to speak in French this whole time?” He said in a British accent.