I’m so nervous as I enter Covington Enterprises that I hope I’m not visibly shaking. I can’t believe I’m coming to work for my ex, who despite being a dick, has consumed a lot of brain power since we last parted ways and every second of my mind since I last saw him.
It’s also hard for me to believe that I’m coming to work for a big corporation that undoubtedly does unscrupulous things all in the name of making money. On that count, however, I figure it’s no worse than the mega chain hotel I worked at up until they fired me. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
“Hello,” I tell the receptionist as soon as I enter the suite. “I’m Emily Mason. I was told by Mr. Covington that…”
“That you are to start today,” the receptionist says, smiling at me in happy welcome as if I’m the Queen of England. I look around the fancy office with lots of dressed up people— I’ve simply worn a skirt and blouse, and I feel terribly underdressed— and suddenly I feel important. The receptionist was told I would be starting today. I realize, however, that I have no idea what kind of job I’ll actually be starting. Nor even how much I’ll be getting paid. “Right this way.”
He leads me over to a computer that says my name on it when it starts up. Wow, I think. They really were prepared for me.
“Mr. Covington told me to give you these instructions,” the receptionist says. “He says your pay rate will be twenty-five dollars an hour to start out, if that is acceptable for you?”
I nod, trying not to let my mouth fall open.
“Yes,” I say quickly, as soon as I remember how to think. “That will be fine.”
It’s more than twice what I was paid by the hotel, so it’s more than fine.
“Very well,” the receptionist continues. “He’s left you this job acceptance paperwork to fill out, including your contact information and your terms of pay.”
I nod, looking down at the paper to the right of the monitor.
“He also says you are to work at your leisure and during whatever time you have available,” the receptionist continues. “Your first task is to go through the emails the customers sent this week. We recently sent out a survey and these customers are responding to that. If the feedback is good, you should write back to the customer and thank them for weighing in. Encourage them to reach out at any time for anything they need.”
I look at him, surprised that a company would care so much about its customers.
He must mistake my awe for confusion, because he says, “Don’t worry, there’s a template saved in a draft email folder that you can use. But feel free to make it your own. Change up the wording or add whatever niceties you’d like. Mr. Covington clearly trusts your abilities.”
I nod and he opens the email program.
“Now, if there is any negative feedback at all, you are to respond by thanking them and also letting them you’re forwarding their email to Mr. Covington himself. And then you can go ahead and do that. When you start typing ‘Wade Covington,’ his name will come up in the auto predictor and fill the rest of his email address out so you can easily send it to him. He’ll look at it and respond accordingly.”
I nod again, pleasantly surprised that Wade goes to such lengths to make his customers happy. And I’m also impressed at how large and streamlined his operation is. He has done a great job of setting up his company, and I realize I have a lot to learn from him, for my foundation.
The receptionist says, “I’ll let you get started,” but then he turns around to face me again before leaving.
“Would you like to put in a lunch order?” he asks me.
I look at him, surprised to be asked that question.
“What are the options?” I ask him, feeling stupid.
“You can order from anywhere. The company pays for it.”
I blink, and he must realize I’m at a loss for what to order.
“I’m ordering from Neil’s Deli myself today,” he suggests, helpfully. “They have a killer Albuquerque Turkey sandwich. With pepper jack cheese, avocado and green chile.”
“That sounds great,” I tell him.
“All right then, I’ll add your order to mine. Please let me know if there’s anything at all that you need,” he says. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”
My heart races, and I’m wondering if that means I won’t get to see Wade. I feel pathetic for wanting to see him so badly, so I try to concentrate on my work.
I click on the first email, bracing myself for complaints about the company or its product that I won’t know how to answer. I know I was instructed to just forward the email to Wade and let the customer know, but I will probably feel guilty if I can’t somehow make everything better.
Instead, the email that greets me is surprisingly enthusiastic.
Dear Covington Enterprises,
I would like to thank you for your Anxiety No More… for Kids app. It has helped my son Chad immensely. He went from having ADHD and other problems at school to reacting a lot better to stressful situations and adjusting to change a lot more easily. In response to your survey, the app is everything I could hope for and more, and I have no suggestions for changes.
Sincerely,
Marge Whitton,
A very happy customer.
A smile crosses my face as I click on the “Reply” button to write my response to Marge. How lovely that an app created by Wade’s company helped this family. I use the standard response, but add a personal note.
We here at Covington Enterprises strive to bring all the best from our family to yours.
It’s an odd personal note, and I’m not sure why I wrote it, considering that there is no “Covington family.” I guess I just feel like part of a “work family” already and I’m pleased to do this fulfilling work as my job. It’s a very different feeling that I had while I worked at my thankless job as a banquet server.
As I open the next emails, one by one, they all say similar things.
You helped me when I got back from war and had PTSD. The tools and tips saved my life.
My mother suffers from terrible anxiety but listening to your app’s hypnotherapy tracts calms and soothes her so that she is able to sleep.
My husband was an alcoholic but your Stop Drinking Now app has worked more wonders for him than all the group therapy meetings he has tried, combined. He now feels positive and energetic about taking his life back and staying off the booze.
Their heartfelt stories make me reconsider everything bad I had thought about Wade and his company and even people with money. Apparently, he’s made his money honestly, and by helping people. And he might have been a dick to me years ago, but something has certainly changed.
At some point the receptionist comes to check in on me as promised by I’m preoccupied by all the thankful survey responses.
He sets a turkey sandwich down beside me and says, “You know, you can take a lunch break.”
“Okay,” I tell him. Then, reminding myself to return to the land of the living, I add, “Thank you,” but he’s already leaving.
There are only two responses that can be construed slightly negatively. One says that they couldn’t get the app to download onto their phone. The other one has suggestions for new or improved apps, for things such as fibromyalgia, pain management and autoimmune diseases. Interesting. I write back to the customers as the receptionist instructed me and then I hit the forward button that will send the emails to Wade.
First, I have a few bites of the turkey sandwich. It’s delicious, just as the receptionist promised. I fill out the job paperwork as requested. And then I return to the task at hand.
I feel nervous as I type, wondering if Wade will scrutinize my every word.
I’ve finished going through the customer survey response emails, I write. This and the email that follows are the only ones with any kind of negative feedback. I’ve let the customers know that I’ve forwarded their comments to you.
I hit send and then I forward the next email without comment. My heart flutters again, just like it’s been doing all day, but this time, even faster. Part of me wonders what to do now that I’ve finished this assignment. I suppose I should go see the receptionist and ask what’s next. Another part of me wonders if— and when— I’ll hear back from Wade.
I don’t have to wait long. There’s a near instant response. My palms sweat as I hover over his email with the mouse, and then click on it.
Very good, his email says. Thank you. Would you please come to my office now?
This time, I let my mouth hang open since no one is around to see it.
A personal summons to Wade’s office is the thing I want right now more than anything else. I need to apologize to him for dismissing him based on stereotypes I’d built in my head. And I have a feeling there are things he needs to do when it comes to me, as well.