Outlook opened up now, and asked me again to create a password, so I picked the same thing. P3ac3 . Even though it wasn’t exactly the word ‘peace’ any more, typing it gave me some sense of satisfaction. It would become my daily mantra, typing that in to access my work files. Might even help keep me calm in what appeared to me, so far, like it was probably one of the most stressful jobs in America.
I saw that I had three new emails, so I clicked on my inbox. The first was welcoming me to Microsoft Office, pointing me towards the help pages, should I need them. The second was welcoming me to Global Media, giving me information about my telephone number, who I should contact to get my contract sorted, and that sort of thing. The third email, I saw, with a sudden jolt in my stomach, was from Redmond Cooper.
Rose,
As I said in our meeting on Friday, I will be taking an interest in your career from now on. Come to my office in a day or two, and let me know how you’re getting on. I want to be involved.
Have a good day.
Mr. Cooper
CEO at Global Media Inc.
P.S. Tegan will give you a large file today. Make sure you start working on it. You will be given your first shorthand test in two weeks’ time.
I re-read the email in amazement. A shorthand test in two weeks ? How was I ever going to stand a chance of passing that?
Why on earth was this guy so interested in me, and in my career? I’d only ever written two pieces of copy in my life. One for a greengrocer’s company, and the other for a second-hand furniture store. He couldn’t have seen a spark of genius in me just from that… Could he? Of course not.
I closed the email, getting the strange feeling that maybe Tegan ought not to see a message like that. And then, for the next half hour, I sat biting my nails, stomach churning.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Good Conscience vs. Bad Conscience
The next few days passed by in a blur. Tegan introduced me to about fifty people, showed me the three photocopier rooms, the correct printer station (out of a possible sixty-two stations, apparently), the four cafés, the meditation room, and the gym. This place was as much a leisure complex as it was a workplace! And yet I’d never been in such an industrious place. People had their coffee breaks at their desk. They scheduled their meetings over lunch. They arrived half an hour early and left two hours late.
By Friday afternoon, after a whirlwind of introductions, I was exhausted. It wasn’t just work that was tiring me out. Mr. Cooper had given me so much work to do at home, too. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, training up to be a journalist, but this was crazy. I had to do two hours of shorthand, and another two of touch-typing each night. He’d given me precise instructions, with the areas that I had to complete every evening marked in red. Essentially, I was having to revise for a seventy-five-hour course, as well as working in a full-time job, in just two weeks. I knew that if I failed he’d be more than just disappointed in me. I might even lose my job. And I really wanted this now. Although it was intimidating, I found the buzz of the office exciting .
At 4.30pm on Friday though, in the middle of typing up some notes for Tegan (which thankfully weren’t in shorthand), I was seriously flagging. I was relieved Tegan was going home at five, which meant that I could leave then too, but I was dreading the fact that I’d fallen behind on my revision by half an hour last night, having fallen asleep over a pile of notes on my bed, and so I had four and a half hours work to do when I got home tonight. Mr. Cooper had given me even more work to do over the weekend. It was as if he was trying to take away my social life, to stop me from doing anything in my free time, in my private life, other than work for him. Not that I had much of a social life anyway…
At that moment, my cell buzzed in my pocket. It was a text message
I saw that I had three new emails, so I clicked on my inbox. The first was welcoming me to Microsoft Office, pointing me towards the help pages, should I need them. The second was welcoming me to Global Media, giving me information about my telephone number, who I should contact to get my contract sorted, and that sort of thing. The third email, I saw, with a sudden jolt in my stomach, was from Redmond Cooper.
Rose,
As I said in our meeting on Friday, I will be taking an interest in your career from now on. Come to my office in a day or two, and let me know how you’re getting on. I want to be involved.
Have a good day.
Mr. Cooper
CEO at Global Media Inc.
P.S. Tegan will give you a large file today. Make sure you start working on it. You will be given your first shorthand test in two weeks’ time.
I re-read the email in amazement. A shorthand test in two weeks ? How was I ever going to stand a chance of passing that?
Why on earth was this guy so interested in me, and in my career? I’d only ever written two pieces of copy in my life. One for a greengrocer’s company, and the other for a second-hand furniture store. He couldn’t have seen a spark of genius in me just from that… Could he? Of course not.
I closed the email, getting the strange feeling that maybe Tegan ought not to see a message like that. And then, for the next half hour, I sat biting my nails, stomach churning.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Good Conscience vs. Bad Conscience
The next few days passed by in a blur. Tegan introduced me to about fifty people, showed me the three photocopier rooms, the correct printer station (out of a possible sixty-two stations, apparently), the four cafés, the meditation room, and the gym. This place was as much a leisure complex as it was a workplace! And yet I’d never been in such an industrious place. People had their coffee breaks at their desk. They scheduled their meetings over lunch. They arrived half an hour early and left two hours late.
By Friday afternoon, after a whirlwind of introductions, I was exhausted. It wasn’t just work that was tiring me out. Mr. Cooper had given me so much work to do at home, too. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, training up to be a journalist, but this was crazy. I had to do two hours of shorthand, and another two of touch-typing each night. He’d given me precise instructions, with the areas that I had to complete every evening marked in red. Essentially, I was having to revise for a seventy-five-hour course, as well as working in a full-time job, in just two weeks. I knew that if I failed he’d be more than just disappointed in me. I might even lose my job. And I really wanted this now. Although it was intimidating, I found the buzz of the office exciting .
At 4.30pm on Friday though, in the middle of typing up some notes for Tegan (which thankfully weren’t in shorthand), I was seriously flagging. I was relieved Tegan was going home at five, which meant that I could leave then too, but I was dreading the fact that I’d fallen behind on my revision by half an hour last night, having fallen asleep over a pile of notes on my bed, and so I had four and a half hours work to do when I got home tonight. Mr. Cooper had given me even more work to do over the weekend. It was as if he was trying to take away my social life, to stop me from doing anything in my free time, in my private life, other than work for him. Not that I had much of a social life anyway…
At that moment, my cell buzzed in my pocket. It was a text message
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