I Don't Mix Business with Pleasure

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓮

𝓕𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

"I can't be late on my first day. This can't be happening." I mutter to myself, quickly pulling my flats over the backs of my heels. I almost trip in the process, grabbing my briefcase and hurrying out the door.

I've had an entire month to prepare for this internship. An entire month! I didn't just put my blood sweat and tears into fashion journalism school for me to completely screw up my first day by being late. I don't even look half as presentable as I'd wanted to.

When I make it outside, I check my hair in the reflection of the storefront windows that line the bustling streets of New York. Okay, I don't look that terrible. I'm a mess today, wasting time checking the way that I look, rather than flag down a taxi like I should have done minutes ago. It doesn't help that I live on the 30th floor of my apartment complex. Everyone was also packed in the elevator like sardines.

"Taxi!" I yell, throwing my hand up in the air, and rushing towards the curb. A driver luckily spots me and pulls over.

"Thank you so much," I say, getting into the back of the car. "I need to be dropped off at Park Avenue, please." The driver nods his head and gives me a thumbs up, inserting himself seamlessly back into the traffic. He has an earpiece in, talking in a different language. I can't decipher what he's saying.

I don't know how anyone drives here. Every time I'm in the back of one of these taxis, I grip the 'oh shit handle' like my life depends on it.

I'm royally screwed. I glance at the time on his dash and it says, 8:20 AM. I'm supposed to be there, clocked in, and ready to be trained at 8:30. I'm almost there. Sure I have ten minutes, but that doesn't consider the amount of time it'll take me to weave through everyone, get in the elevator, make it to the twentieth floor, and clock in. No, I'm not just royally screwed, I'm dead.

I practically open the car door before he comes to a complete stop, paying him and dashing towards the building. I have a whole eight minutes to make it on time. Squeezing into the elevator, I'm barely able to admire how beautiful my surroundings are. Photographers are standing next to me. I'm pretty sure there's even a model or two in the elevator with me. Everyone surrounding me reeks of wealth. Something I hope to see in my future. This is a start.

Come on, I think to myself as the digital numbers slowly climb up on the screen above the elevator doors. I swear we've had to stop on every single floor along the way to let people off and pile more people back in.

18...19...20..

As soon as the doors open, I stumble out, all eyes on me. I glance at my watch and it's 8:30 on the dot. I haven't even clocked in yet. Wow, great first impression I've made so far.

"Florence?" I hear a man's voice boom. I shoot a look in his direction, quickly looking away. He doesn't seem happy with me, at all. I don't blame him. I've already screwed up big time.

"My office." His voice booms, once more. Everyone lowers their heads, side-eyeing me.

I reluctantly follow him into his office. He shuts the door behind us, before sitting at his desk.

"While I'm not your boss, I still have a say in what goes on around here. Being late on your first day is unacceptable. I don't want to hear any excuses. I should send you right back out that door."

'I came in through the elevator, not a door.' That is what I want to say, just to be an ass. My anxiety doesn't allow me to. I'm also not looking to be fired already if I can help it.

"I- yes, I understand that." I sigh, gripping my briefcase tightly to my chest. Everything I've worked towards... could be all for nothing.

"Make yourself useful today and prove that I won't be wasting my damn time by interning you. We'll see if I care to see your face tomorrow."