The Chief Investment Officer.
He practically owned the company, alongside his father.
I couldn’t still believe I got the job. I didn’t expect it, I knew I was supposed to be an assistant. But not an executive one to Eric Bolton. My nerves settled in. My hands trembled every now and then whenever I thought about it too much. He was the big boss here, so he had big responsibilities, which meant big office duties for me. I cringed. Hoping I could handle the workload effectively.
I called my mom and dad as soon as I received the news. They were overjoyed and proud, knowing their one and only daughter will make it in the big city on her own, and at a very prestige company too.
Mr. Carson met me downstairs and walked me up to Mr. Bolton’s office. It was a fresh Monday morning, and I was prepared to give my best. I even wore my best work outfit. A brown waisted skirt with a light pink shirt buttoned up to my neck with a dark brown jersey and pumps. I tucked in a pesky strand that escaped my tight bun.
The coffee aroma filled the office floor, buzzing my senses. The fifth floor was the second highest floor in the building. It was open planned and enormous, with cubicles that held personal workspaces for each worker.
The floor was a hive of activity. People chatted away on their telephones, eyes focused on computer screens while seated at their desks, and little arguments over the client budgets, caught my ear, as Mr. Carson and I passed two men in a heated discussion. A few women looked at me as I walked by. Some talking and whispering to each other. Others just scanned me up and down. One short haired woman gave a side smile and a wink.
I frowned and bumped slightly into the back of Mr. Carson as he swung open the long glass office doors.
Mr. Eric Bolton (CIO)
Was written on a platinum plate on the entrance of the door. I sucked in a breath.
“Welcome to your new home away from home.” Mr. Carson joked, as we both entered the office cubicle.
There were two small wooden desks, a computer settled on each. A file cabinet stood, one on the left and one on the right. A small dark red couch was against the wall with a plant pot in the corner. The office space smelled fresh of pine and the dark blue carpet was freshly vacuumed. The four walls had beige panels on it and lead to a large framed black door in front. I presumed that’s where Mr. Bolton’s office was at.
I knew it was just another office. But my mind wondered how it looked like. And how Mr. Bolton looked like too. Was he in there right now?
“This is where you’ll be seated, Miss Harper.” Mr. Carson pointed to the desk on the left.
I nodded and trotted over to my seat, that squeaked. I sat down and placed my file on the table. Equipped with a notepad, pen and diary. I was nervous and I hoped I didn’t show it.
I breathed out softly. Steadying my nerves.
“Who sits over there?” I pointed to the opposite desk.
“Well,-” Mr. Carson began but was interrupted by someone barging in.
“I do.” Said a stern voice.
A dark-skinned smartly dressed woman, with black wavy hair in her mid-forties stood next to Mr. Carson.
He grinned. “Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Walters. She helps Mr. Bolton from time to time, but she’s got a lot on her plate and can’t be helping his assistants full time.”
Mrs. Walters looked at me and nodded. “She the new girl?” She side-glanced him.
He nodded and smiled. “And I have great hope in her.”
I don’t know why, but those words made me more nervous.
I gave a plastered smile.
Mrs. Walters narrowed her eyes at me. “We’ll see. C’mon let me show you what to do around here.” She waved me over. I sprung to my feet and followed her.
“I’ll leave you in capable hands Miss Harper. Good luck!” Mr. Carson said.
Mrs. Walters and I walked about the fifth floor of the office building since that’s where I would spend most of my time. First stop was the kitchen, it was small and only catered for coffees and teas, a huge fridge and microwave was stationed. Mugs and teacups were lined up with assorted coffees and tea bags.
The floor had some office rooms that were scattered to the left side. The place was brightly lit, since the walls had large windows.
After Mrs. Walters showed me the scanning and stationery rooms. We returned to Mr. Bolton’s office.
“Alright. The floors below you’ll find are; marketing, finance and human resource departments. She informed. “Now what your job duties are. And what is required of you.”
Mrs. Walters told me what I had to do on a daily, weekly and monthly basis and gave me a list to keep track. I skimmed over it. My mind buzzed with all the workloads. Which included, spreadsheets. Taking calls. Preparing meetings. Organizing travel and itineraries and monitoring emails for Mr. Bolton, and that were just the few tasks mentioned. My heart raced slightly as my nerves got the better of me.
I breathed in and out slowly, calming myself down.
I can manage this, it’s not so bad, I told myself. I can organize. That was my greatest skill. Now I can put it to use and prove myself.
“Basically, you do whatever the boss tells you to do. You got that?” Mrs. Walters said with a raised eyebrow.
I nodded all the way.
“And one more thing.” She looked at me before she left. “Mr. Bolton is a very particular man; the other personal assistants couldn’t get the hang of it. So it was mostly up to me to do most of his errands. But I would like you to do your job correctly.”
“Yes of course.” I assured, my neck perked up. I grabbed my notepad and pen and listened.
“Mr. Bolton likes certain things and if you can get this right and do your job properly, he’ll probably keep you around.”
I nodded, my fingers ready to write.
“Number 1. He likes latte, and wants it hot every morning when he walks into the office. He also takes his coffee black.”
I gave a nod.
“Number 2. Be here in the office before he does. He’s usually late, but sometimes he comes early for meetings, so you need to be on your toes.”
“Yes.” I said.
“Number 3. Make sure his mini fridge is always stocked with Perrier mineral water and Coke Lite. And last but not least, never and I mean never pass on the message to him to call a disgruntled woman.” She looked at me seriously, with the last point.
I frowned. Bit simply shook my head, as I jotted down all the requests. More like demands, I felt like.
“When will Mr. Bolton return from his meeting?” I said, fiddling with the pen nervously between my fingers.
Mrs. Walters shook her head. “You’ll only see him tomorrow.” She turned and walked out the glass doors, leaving me with my anxious and overwhelmed thoughts.
I scanned my duties list and my notepad outlining what my new employer needed.
I sighed, relieved to be alone in the office now to gather my thoughts.
I was certain I was slightly afraid of facing Mr. Bolton tomorrow.