I take a deep breath as I open the door. "Good morning! You must be Elizabeth." I'm greeted by a warm smile from a tall girl with blonde hair behind the front desk. "Good morning," I smile back. "and yes! I am Elizabeth." I giggle. The roar of a loud motorcycle suddenly sound outside and I jump. "Oh, that's just Edward." The woman laughs. A man with a beanie pulls up on a motorcycle. He's dressed very casually, quite opposite of everyone else.
"Oh, okay." I say. "I'm Haley." The woman says while holding her hand out for a handshake. I accept her gesture. "Are you more into photography or graphic design?" She asks. I let out a breath I realized I hadn't been holding. I was so relieved that she asked that question. "I'm a lot more of a photography person." I laugh. "Oh, I'm in the graphic design part of the office when I'm not working the desk." She explains. I nod so she understands I'm listening. I hate how awkward I am in new situations. She comes around the desk just as Edward walks in. He looks at me expectantly, "Is this the new girl?" His eyes shift to Haley while pointing a long finger at me. "Yes. Her name is Elizabeth." Haley says in a tone as if she is trying to get him to recognize his somewhat rude behavior.
"Photographer?" He asks while looking at me with beautiful dark green eyes. "Y-Yes. How do you know?" I ask. "You just look it. Come with me." He says and begins to walk. As I took my first step, I then remembered that my two cameras are slung across my chest. What a great first impression.
"Have fun!" Haley says from behind me. "Thanks!" I smile back and wave. I quickly catch up to Edward. He leads me to an elevator and pushes the six. His phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket. "Salut?" His voice rings. He continues to speak pure and fluent French as we walk out to the sixth floor, which I believe is the top. While tilting his head to hold his phone between his ear and his shoulder, he pulls out a set of keys. He unlocks a door, beside it, on a metal plate, reads, "Elizabeth Walker." I gasp to myself in excitement as he opens the door.
The first thing I see is a large, neatly polished oak wood desk with a giant screened computer. On the desk lies a huge camera with three different lenses. I set my camera bags on the desk next to it and my box on the floor as he continues to talk on the phone. He opens the curtains instead of turning on the lights, which is my preference. The window takes up the whole wall. It's beautiful. I stare out of it over the rooftops to the busy street below. There is no way only this company has six floors of offices. I hear Edward opening up file cabinets, so I change my attention to him.
Answering my question, he lays out a map is the six floors. Only three of them were offices. The other three are for photography backgrounds and props, the lobby, and a place to eat lunch. Wow. Edwards voice still rings in my ears as I run my hand over the polished wood. He opens one of my camera bags, and I get extremely nervous. I know he will handle them with good care, but it still makes me anxious. He picks up my Polaroid camera and examines it. To my surprise, he smiles and sets it back in the bag. He does the same with my digital camera. He finally hangs up the phone. "You can sit." He says while closing the door. "My apologies, French client." He explains. "It's no problem." I reply and sit in the giant, leather computer seat. "Nice cameras. I suggest you have more?" He asks. "Yes sir."
"Don't call me that, we're the same age. Now, normally we would use the company cameras, but I'm allowing you to use yours, simply because they are of good quality." He looks at me from a from-under stare. "Okay." I say nervously. "Okay," He says back.
"Moving on, do you know who the boss is around here?" He asks. "I-I don't know. I just got here." I stutter. His intense stare was making me extremely nervous. "Me." He says shortly while poking a finger into his chest. I should have known, but if he's my age, how is he the boss of this entire business? I wonder if it's family? Or maybe he's just extremely intelligent and talented? "Okay." I say with a nod. I fiddled around with my dress and hair as a nervous habit, but his focus never left my eyes. "I hired you because your university gave off an amazing profile of you. You are said to be one of their best photography student to ever pass through their classes if I'm correct?" He asks.
I sit back, "I guess?" He bites his lip, "That didn't sound very promising. How about we try that again?" My heart races, thudding against my chest so loudly that I'm sure he ca hear it. "Yes. I am." I say with a boost of confidence. I'll show him that I'm a lot more than he thinks I am. "Alright." He responds while walking over to the wall to my right. He leans against it and knocks on it, "My office is on the other side of this wall if you need. You are aware that your first client is this afternoon, correct?" I nod in response. He speaks very intelligently. It's making me feel dumb whenever I talk. "What?" He says while leaning closer to me. My palms begin to sweat, a nervous habit of mine that I've grown to hate. He's very intimidating. "Yes." I say. He nods in satisfaction. "Your map should tell you where everything is. You aren't to leave this office unless needed or to see a client. Your lunch break is at noon every day for an hour. Always be back on time, if not... Well, you'll see what happens if not. You will work in the office until you become one of the top ranked photographers, then you will be allowed to have clients outside of the photo studio. I always go through the pictures with clients, but you can standby and hear their opinion..." He goes on while opening up the door. "Oh, and Dylan will bring you all of your clients papers, so you don't worry about it."
"Thank you." I say. "Have fun moving in." He tells me. The door then shuts a bit too loudly. That was interesting. My heart is still hammering against my chest. Who would have thought that I'd be this afraid of my boss?
