Maybe it's not so much of who we are but of how how our actions shape us. Making mistakes and learning from them is something you hear often. Mistakes don't define your future, rather they moulder mind to spot these potential dangers. You can wish...
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Six months later...
"Morning." I smile at Kayla, the receptionist. She had a strong dislike for me at first, but I won her over six months. I pass the security and make my way to the hallway. As I make my way to my desk, I greet those I have made friends with since I arrived. My desk looks as clean as I left it yesterday.
After settling in, I began to type away at my computer and answer calls from other receptionists, making appointments for meetings and negotiations. After being hired, I was given the job of a PA which I was more than happy to accept. I work for the CEO, who is an older gentleman. He is happily married, has a son and a soon to be married daughter, 3 grandchildren and a sweet wife.
I envy their marriage and life. That could have been me, but I don't have that chance anymore. The phone rings, and I calm myself down and pick up the phone.
"Financiate Company, this is Gianna; how can I help you today?" giving my chirpiest voice to the receiver on the other side. I wait, and I hear hush voices on the other side. Maybe they accidentally dialled? "Hello? Is there anyone on the phone?" the hush voices stop.
"Hi, is this Mr Greyson's office?" A man says in a gruff voice. The man sounds impatient and ill-mannered.
"Yes, would you like me to make an appointment for you?" I open up my calendar, ready for him to be put in. Again I get silence on the other side of the line.
"I'm his son; just put me through to my dad." He hurries me on the phone. An annoyed sigh can be heard from him. "Unfortunately, I can not do that. Would you like to set an appointment?" I respond to him in a sickly sweet tone.
"Why can't you? Are you stupid? Just put my dad on the phone; we have serious business to talk about." He snaps. My anger slowly starts to boil, but I keep my cool and act professionally. "Sir, I can not confirm whether or not you are the son of Mr Greyson. If you have a message for him, I am more than happy to pass it on, but you can make an appointment to speak with him in person." I said this all in one breathe.
Hoping that the man has come to his sense, he begins to speak once again. "Listen, little girl, put my father on the phone or else this ends with you begin unemployed. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" The arrogance in his voice was pungent as alcohol in the breath of a drunk man. He has another thing coming.
"No, you listen, boy. Try actually opening your ears and allowing more words to linger into your hollow head. I don't care whether you are Mr Greyson's son or not; you have to make an appointment to talk to him. And don't threaten to take my job when you probably don't have one or your dad helped you get one. Maybe just call daddy directly? Is that all I can help?" I
The line went dead, and I placed the phone down. The time read 9:30. Mr Greyson should be here by now, but it wasn't unusual for him to come in later. I admit that I lost my temper quite a bit, but such men like him suck and deserve the same treatment they give.
