Chapter Three

Melinda

I tapped my pen on the desk impatiently as I listened to my client talk about their upcoming commercial. They were in London and I was here, which was exactly why I was hoping that Mr. Cartucci would eventually open up another office. In the meantime, I was taking on some international clients, and they definitely took a bit more time than our local ones. This client was an especially difficult one, and they caused me to have at least three stressful days a week.

They had changed their mind four times since we started with their campaigns, and they were starting in with complaints about the commercial again. Unfortunately, it had already been shot and edited, so if they wanted changes we would have to start all over, flying out to London again to get the shot perfect. Fortunately, I was a really good communicator, which was why I had been put on their case in the first place.

“I understand that,” I said lightly. “The colors used were systematically and scientifically chosen because studies have found that they are the most eye catching and the ones that will draw the consumer in and keep their attention. You don’t want to go with darker colors, especially this time of year. People will just turn away.”

As I finished up the conversation, promising the client a hit, Mr. Cartucci poked his head out of his office. I wrote some notes down on the file and then looked back up, watching as his eyes met mine and he waved over at me with a smile on his face. The client was still talking a million miles a minute and I gave my boss the hold on one second finger. I jotted down some more notes, just in case I didn’t receive the client’s next round of marketing schemes. I liked to set the next agent up for success, especially when the client was completely impossible like this one.

I looked back up at Mr. Cartucci, who was mouthing for me to come to his office when I was done. I nodded at him and smiled, nerves rising in my chest. I had no idea why he would want to talk to me. There was no way I had finished the new client yet, and he knew that, though I did already have all the mockups done for the meeting next week.

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

I sighed and hung up the phone, pulling up my calendar and thinking maybe I had somehow missed a meeting. Panicking slightly, I scanned through the different days, but as it stood, unless I hadn’t been notified of something, I hadn’t missed anything. In fact, I was way ahead of schedule, which was just how I liked it.

I tapped my fingers and glanced up at Mr. Cartucci’s office, biting the inside of my cheek. Taking in a deep breath, I pressed my hands firmly on the desk, lifting up out of the chair. I pulled down on my jacket and smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt.

I walked across the pit and up the stairs, smiling at Mr. Cartucci’s secretary. She looked over her shoulder and pressed the button, letting him know that I was there. It took a second, but he eventually responded, his voice slightly gruff. I walked into his office and stood in front of him, forcing a smile onto my face. He cleared his throat and motioned for me to sit down. My heart was racing a million miles an hour, but I still wasn’t at all prepared for what he said next.

“Melinda, your job can be stressful, no doubt, in terms of the hours and the clients’ varying needs,” he began.

I nodded, really not knowing where this was going.

“However, it is relatively simple in terms of the scope of the job description,” he went on, which frankly, seemed slightly insulting. “You walk clients through the process of creating their ad campaigns, schedule out the different things that need to be done, and do a once-over of everything before it reaches the client.”

Not sure what to say to that—I mean, he’d just said my job was easy, basically—I nodded again.

He held up a hand, maybe seeing the expression on my face. “Don’t get me wrong. Since the first day you came to work here, five years ago, you have gone above and beyond.”

“Thank you, sir.” It was nice to hear, even if I was still uncertain what exactly was happening here.

“There have been times you have run circles around my corporate team, and whether that’s because they have become complacent or you are just that good, is a moot point,” Mr. Cartucci noted.

Okay … that was a compliment? Right?

“I try to do the most thorough job I can,” I replied.

“And that you do,” he chuckled, easing my nerves very slightly. If he was pissed about something, he wouldn’t be laughing, surely? “I am sure you are aware that last year, I got engaged.”

“Yes, sir. Congratulations,” I said almost mechanically. Get to the point!

“Thank you. As such, I want to kind of take a step back, per say, and let the company move forward with other people steering the ship.”

The penny finally began to drop. Oh my God …

“I know that in order to do that, I have to have the best and most capable people on my staff. That no longer includes Jacob, my Junior Vice President, as you probably heard through the grapevine.”

Somehow, I managed to answer him even as excitement ran hot and heavy through me. “I did notice him leaving a week ago.”

“You are young,” he said, and paused.

I sat there silently, not even going to attempt to build on that one. Age was just a number. He hadn’t called me in to ask my birthday, so my guess was he was just working through something aloud.

“That is definitely something that everyone takes into consideration,” Mr. Cartucci mused. “You are often tempted to take on more than I think any one person should, which is why in the future I want you to practice telling people no. That being said, you make up for those faults—”

This time my mouth opened involuntarily to protest and he held up a hand, cutting me off.

“Everyone has faults, so don’t take it personally. You stand up for yourself, your work, and you show confidence at times where it is vital that you do so.”

Mollified, I replied, “I have come to find that people in general, especially clients, are more likely to trust you if you show confidence in your work. That’s why I never submit anything unless I know I can stand behind it 100 percent.”

“Exactly,” he said, slapping the desk and standing up. “Walk with me, if you would.”

I stood up on shaky legs and followed him out of his office and into the hall. He tossed his secretary his keys and put one hand in his pocket, strolling along across the corridor that framed the cubicle pit.

“I like your tenacity,” he said as we walked through the office to the opposite side. “It brings a freshness to the company that I think we were missing.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now if I could only bottle that and give it to the rest of the staff, we would never be neck and neck with another company again,” he chuckled. “I want to take this company into the next era, pushing us past just marketing companies and into the future of the digital era where people market people, like T&R does.”

“Interesting,” I replied. I had no idea what else to say, starting to wonder if my initial excitement had been misplaced. Then we walked into the vacant office that used to be the Junior VP’s. It was a corner office with one hell of a view. This was exactly what I wanted one day, and I had been keeping it in the back corner of my mind as motivation for a very long time. It was the symbol of hard work, the essence of everything that I wanted. Open spaces, amazing views, and a stature that held its own. The office itself was almost intimidating.

Given that we were now standing there when there was a job opening—a job opening for the occupant of this very office—the butterflies starting up again.

“I have been thinking long and hard about what do about the fact that I don’t have a Junior VP.”

OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod, my brain screamed at me, while he kept talking.

“I sat with the board last night for three hours, going over several candidates, and one just kept popping up to me.” Before I even had a second to finish telling myself to calm down and wait for it, Mr. Cartucci picked up nameplate that had been lying face down on the desk. He handed it to me with a wide smile.

“Welcome to your new office.”

I stared at the strip of beveled metal clutched in my hands. Etched in the gold nameplate was the title Junior Vice President, and below it was my name.

At that point, my mind quit screaming and everything got weirdly quiet. Almost like after so many years of clawing my way upwards, now that it was finally here, it was anticlimactic.

“I’m making you the new Junior Vice President of Marketing Management for the company.” Mr. Cartucci put his hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s a leap from where you are as a senior agent, but you can train the people above you. This job will test your abilities far more than your current one, Melinda.” And he smiled.

“Thank you,” I started to stutter, but he went on.

“I have the utmost faith in you for this. I know that you will make me proud.”

“Sir. I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. No idea whatsoever.

“Say you’ll do the best job you can to take us into the future.”

“Absolutely.” The band started back up in my head and I began to grin as he shook my hand firmly. “I will not let you or the company down, sir. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“I know you won’t. You’ll report directly to the VP and myself, and you’ll be the voice of the company when we’re not here,” he said. “Congratulations. You earned it.”

“Thank you.” Thank you. Thank you.

After five years, it was here and for the first time in forever, I wanted to throw a—

“Oh, and there is a party scheduled for tomorrow night in your honor,” Mr. Cartucci preempted my thoughts.

His phone rang and he looked down at the number.

“If you will excuse me, I need to get this,” he said. “Go ahead and pick out six of your best accounts to bring with you. Then transfer everything to the others.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my hands shaking as they held the nameplate.

“Go ahead and put that on the door,” he advised, walking outside.

Clutching the plaque, I found myself standing alone in the empty office. I walked over to the windows and wrapped my arms around my waist, looking out at the amazing view of the city. I was ecstatic, so much so that I could barely contain myself. I wanted to scream from the rooftops. Instead, I pulled my phone out and dialed my best friend.

Chastity and I had met in our freshman year at Berkeley and immediately hit it off. She was a big-time accountant in the city and was definitely a lot less uptight than I was. She was constantly trying to get me to relax and let loose more. Well, if she wanted to let loose, there was a certain party being thrown in my honor …

“Guess what,” I said as soon as she answered.

“What? You finally decided to quit marketing and join the world again?”

“I was just given the Junior VP position.”

“Oh my God,” Chastity shouted. “Melinda, that is so amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” I sat down in a chair and just stared at the office, lost in a dream.

“You worked so hard, Mel. You deserved the job more than anybody. Congratulations,” she said again.

“I just can’t believe it. And they’re having a party in my honor, tomorrow night.”

If there was one thing Chastity loved, it was a big party.

“Well,” she sang, “I’ve only been trying to get you to a party for over half a decade. You better invite me. Ply me with enough champagne, and I might even put out.”

“Why not? It’s not like I have prospects lined up around the corner,” I laughed, my eyes roaming the walls and imagining my various diplomas lining them. “I might as well bring someone who can keep my nerves under control when they do my confirmation.”

“They’re swearing you in tomorrow?!”

“It’s not the White House, Chastity,” I teased, my face aching from smiling. “But yes. The party doubles as some kind of official induction.”

“Well, shit. I need a new dress!”

We talked for a few minutes more and then I got off the phone and walked over to the door. In a dream, I swung it open and slowly, reverently, slid my name into the empty slot.

Then I stood there smiling giddily as five years caught up with me and tears of joy filled my eyes. I couldn’t call my mom, and in that moment I missed her so much that I physically ached, so I whispered to her anyway, You helped me get here, Mom. All your hard work when I was a kid helped put me in this place. Thank you.