4. Daniel
4
Daniel
Chloe clutches her purse close to her body, wearing a smile.
As stressed out as she looks, her eyes still sparkle as they had when she first showed up at my office this morning.
There’s something about the glint in her eyes as she smiles. Only her eyes are fixed on Michelle and Michelle is grinning back at her. It’s the warmest I’ve seen Michelle with anyone in a long time.
A gust of cool air breezes inside. Chloe tugs her blazer tightly over her body.
“Come in, Chloe,” I say, stepping away from the door.
“I really should be heading home. It’s late.”
“The little lady insists.”
She nods. Michelle ushers her inside, walking a little ahead of her.
“So, you’re an Executive Assistant?” Michelle asks. “Sounds like a cool title. But I bet it’s boring.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, all Dad talks about are a bunch of meetings and numbers. Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”
“Not in the least.” Chloe laughs. “I bet you won’t mind if it came with a whole wardrobe of custom-made outfits and shoes. Or free meals.”
Chloe sits on the brown couch and takes a look around. I naturally follow her eye movements, which now rest on the television screen above the fireplace.
“If they’re anything like the kind I find around Dad’s office, I’ll pass.”
They both seem oblivious to my presence. I clear my throat at Michelle’s comment, but neither of them budge.
“I hear you. We just have to look the part at the office.”
“And other offices?”
“I get to dress the way I want, whether it’s a pink dress or ripped denim with a red blazer.”
Michelle smirks. “Are you sure you work in Dad’s office?”
Chloe looks in my direction with that challenge in her eyes again. “Yep.”
“Why don’t we give Chloe a breather, honey?” I say. “I’m sure she must be pretty exhausted.”
Michelle rolls her eyes and heads to the kitchen.
Chloe clears her throat. She doesn’t lose her smile as she stares at me. Her necklace rests above her chest, the gold pendant gleaming in the light from the living room.
I wrench my eyes away. The last thing I need is work creeping into my personal thoughts, especially with a new Assistant who's barely proven herself.
I open the binder to review her work. To my surprise, she has effectively organized each of the five proposals I plan to present at the next meeting. Not only does she recreate what was ruined, she revamps everything by including added text and visual elements, making the presentations more cohesive and formal. The floor plans are more detailed, the slides have more depth, the notes are more intricate, and the agendas are carefully curated. If I were part of the Nexus team, I wouldn’t know which plan to go with for the convention.
I flip through the different pages, scanning for spelling errors or formatting issues. That’s where most people get it wrong. Even the most experienced eyes often skip over something.
So far, nothing.
“You did all of this today?” I ask.
“Half a day, actually,” she corrects. “Spent most of the time trying to make out the original words hidden underneath the coffee stain.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“About that, I’m sorry, again. It was an accident,” she says. “I can assure you that it won’t happen again.”
“Good.” I close the binder. “I see you changed a lot of things without my guidance or approval.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t look away. “Was that wrong? I suppose I should’ve—”
“Working with minimal supervision. You’re lucky it worked in your favor this time, especially since you’re new and unaware of my style or preferences.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Her smile disappears. I can’t let her get too comfortable. It’s the only thing that went right today.
“Well, some of the slides were too dull. I know your previous assistant helped you with this, but one proposal had a few slides that had basic stock images and no enhancements. I took the liberty to make them unique and engaging, that’s all. I wanted all the proposals to look professional and well thought out.”
Curious, I slide the binder over to her. “Show me which one.”
She flips through to the last proposal and explains what was lacking.
“So, you’re saying it was subpar.”
“Yes. Nexus is a big deal. We don’t want to tank the deal when we’ve already come so far.” She clears her throat. “I mean you. When you’ve already come so far.”
She maintains her composure as she speaks, not batting an eye. I suppress the smirk threatening to appear, keeping my lips pressed tightly together. She stays quiet, observing my facial expression for any sign of acceptance.
“I created those slides. It seems you’re implying that I’m not good at what I do.”
Crickets.
Her eyes burst open with shock. “Oh, not at all.” She pauses as she gathers her thoughts. “I’m here to help you. I’m your sounding board, your eyes and your ears. I only want to make sure I do everything on my part to help you succeed. That means I have to be proactive where and when I can.”
Finally, someone who doesn’t need me to do all the thinking for them.
“Go on,” I say.
“We’re on the same team.”
Team? What does a newbie in the industry know about team?
Michelle is my team. It has been us and only us for the past four years.
“So, you’re teaching me my company values now? Team work, delight our clients, excellence and so on?”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do here,” she rebuts. “It’s stamped at the footer of every email you send—'Operational Excellence.’”
“I guess you actually do pay attention.”
“Yes, I do, and that’s what I deliver—excellence.”
Her expression remains unwavering. There’s no smirk, nothing deceiving in her eyes, no frown. Just pure determination.
“I see.” I clap my hands together and lean forward. “Since you’re committed to excellence, I have a project for you. Do you think you can create a brand new proposal before tomorrow morning’s meeting? I’m looking for something fresh, something that hasn’t already been recycled in this binder.”
“That’s really short notice. It’s already 8:30 P.M., but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Is that a yes or a no, Ms. Summers. I can’t accept an ‘I’ll see’ at this juncture.”
“I’ll have it in your inbox first thing.”
“Good. We’ll see how reliable and dedicated you are.”
She tries to mask her frown, but I catch a glimpse of it. A pang of guilt tightens in my chest. She has been nothing but helpful so far. Still, it’s better not to make her too comfortable too soon. It’s only her first day. A lot can still go wrong.
“Goodnight, Mr. Andrews.”
“Goodnight.”
“You’re leaving already Chloe?” A voice calls from behind.
We both turn to find Michelle walking into the living room, a tablet in her hand.
“You’re not staying for pancakes?” Michelle asks.
“I wish I could,” Chloe says. “But I should be on my way. It’s pretty late and I have a big day at work tomorrow. Plus, I’ve got this very worried friend at home.”
Chloe’s phone rings. She glances at it and smiles. “See, she’s calling already. How about some other time?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
She waves goodbye as she steps inside her Uber. I hold the binder up in my hand and shout, “Remember, tomorrow morning!”
I shut the door behind her and let out a deep breath. I might have been too harsh to call for a replacement earlier in front of Chloe. If she keeps up this level of productivity, aside from her clumsiness, of course, we’ll get along just fine.
“She’s cool,” Michelle says.
I roll my eyes. Michelle has a radar for coolness that apparently skips right over me.
“You think she’s cool?” I ask.
“I know she is. She doesn’t treat me like a toddler. I like her. Don’t you?”
“I don’t get to like her, sweetie. Work should stay at the office.”
Ha! Says the guy who asks his Assistant to deliver work to his home the first day on the job. In my defense, she caused it. Yet, she fixed it better than I could have imagined.
“You gotta think she’s cool, Dad.”
“You don’t give up, do you? Wonder where you get that from,” I laugh, tousling her hair. “Well, if I’m being honest, she’s good at her job, that’s for sure.”