“Thank you.” I wave to her, grateful for a pleasant New Yorker this morning.
On the way up to the HR floor, I quickly post my picture to Instagram, tagging Westin Enterprises of course and then put my phone back in my purse. HR is on the sixty-first floor, but I’ll be working on the eighty-eighth. Sounds so regal. From working with Linus and Mr. Danvers of course, I already know Westin Enterprises isn’t only invested in real estate but multiple facets of different businesses that fall under the umbrella of the powerful conglomerate that Rath built at a young age. Investing his money consistently has brought him to the point that he has ten different branches of Westin Enterprises as well as a thriving philanthropic sector that Rath spends most of his time focusing on.
The doors part, I tell everyone on the elevator to have a good day, and then I head straight through the glass doors, looking for a Mrs. Pepplebum.
Reception greets me with a smile and I say, “Hello, I’m Charlee Cox, and this is my first day. I’m supposed to report to a Mrs. Pepplebum.”
“Yes, she’s in the conference room preparing for your arrival. Right this way.”
I follow the dear lady through many glass hallways to a conference room with tinted windows. The door swooshes open and I’m announced.
“Mrs. Pepplebum, Miss Cox is here.”
A lady in her mid-fifties, short blonde hair, raises her head and gives me a charming smile. Hand outstretched, she walks around the table and shakes my hand. “What a pleasure. Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to eat?” She motions to some fruit and muffins on the table.
I eye the cut-up pineapple and make myself a plate. “Pineapple is a weakness for me, I can never pass it up.”
“Me either.” Mrs. Pepplebum makes herself a plate as well before taking a seat next to me.
There are a few folders lined up in front of us, but she doesn’t get right to work. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself. I heard you worked for Harold Danvers.”
“Yes, he was such an amazing boss, and then the merger happened so I lost my job. I received a very nice severance package, which has given me some time off. Much-needed time off.”
“Oh, I bet. Where did you go to school?”
“University of Albany. I’m from Schenectady actually. I didn’t travel too far for college so I could live with my parents and save money. After I graduated with a master’s in business, I came to the city and I haven’t looked back.”
“I’m from the Adirondacks. It’s so beautiful up there during the fall, but the winter months, no thank you.”
I laugh and nod. “Yes, I’m grateful we don’t get that much snow here in the city, just crazy cold wind.”
“And that’s why scarves were invented . . . and taxis.”
We both laugh and spend a little bit more time talking, enjoying our pineapple before we get down to work.
Once our plates are pushed to the side, Mrs. Pepplebum says, “Okay, I have your basic employment forms to fill out and then we have the lease agreement for the apartment.”
“Oh, yes, I don’t think I’m going to take the lease. I live in a nice place in Brooklyn.”
Mrs. Pepplebum shakes her head. “That won’t work unfortunately. You’re going to need to live in Manhattan at least.”
“Oh . . . well, I guess I can start looking for a place.”
She laughs. “Not necessary. Mr. Westin owns many apartment buildings in the vicinity. He just had this apartment refurbished, and he said it was for you.” Leaning forward, she says, “If I were you, I’d take it. I saw the inside, it’s spectacular. Beautiful views and rooftop access.”
“Oh my. Okay.” I bite my bottom lip. “I just feel a little bad taking it.”
“Don’t, it’s a perk for working as Mr. Westin’s executive assistant. There’s also a driver assigned to you.” She looks through the paperwork. “Joel is his name. He’ll be at your disposal and before you refuse his services, it’s a requirement to use him when running errands for work.”
I nod. “Mr. Danvers was the same.”
“So, then you’re familiar. Joel is a lovely man. Grew up in the city, knows the ins and outs of every street. But has one of the thickest New York accents I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to meet him.”
For the next hour we go over the rest of the benefits of working with Mr. Westin as well as signing paperwork, and of course an NDA, which I’m very familiar with. It’s not uncommon to sign one when you’re working with someone of such stature. Although, to be so accomplished at Mr. Westin’s age is exceptional and surprising.
Once the paperwork is signed and I gain a copy of everything in different folders—the organization already has me excited—Mrs. Pepplebum, or Renita as she asked me to call her, stands and says, “With everything all set, it’s time you see your new office space.”
What I’ve been waiting for.
“Can’t wait.” I take all the file folders under my arm and follow Renita to the elevator I didn’t come through. She takes a keycard and activates the button. Then she hands me the card and says, “There are three keys to this elevator. Security and Mr. Westin have one and now you. It’s your private elevator, so don’t let anyone else have this key.”
“Understood.” Mr. Danvers had that, so I’m glad Mr. Westin has one as well. “Will guests be allowed up by security each time?”
“Those who security know won’t be announced if Mr. Westin is in the office. He tends to call downstairs and advise if he’s not to be disturbed. However, security will call through to you for business meetings and the like.” Makes sense. He is the CEO after all.
“Do you know if there are any specific tasks Mr. Westin wants me working on?”
“He’ll go over all of that with you. He has you scheduled in about fifteen minutes to meet with him.”
“Oh wow, okay.” I cringe as we ride up the elevator. “Not to be a bother, but are there any notepads upstairs?”
“There’s an iPad at your desk, ready for use, as well as your phone and computer, all personalized for you.”
“Wonderful.” I gnaw on the side of my lip, wondering if there are notepads though, because iPads are great and all, but I like making lists with pen and paper. Nothing to worry about right now.
The elevator dings and the doors part to an empty top floor. I glance around, the space feeling like a ghost town. Dreary lights barely light up the space, blinds cover all the windows, and there isn’t one person in sight as we walk past a conference room and down a long hallway to a desk right outside a grand door.
“Oh, are we on the wrong floor?”
“No, this is the eighty-eighth floor; it’s just you and Mr. Westin up here.”
“Wait, no one else works up here?”
“Nope. Mr. Westin prefers his privacy.”
Oh-kay.
We make our way to the plain black desk where there’s a new phone on top as well as a brand-new Mac desktop still in the box, and the aforementioned iPad. All waiting to be set up.
No pen holder.
No pads of paper.
No pretty nameplate.
No flowers.