The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

weather was starting to feel more like fall, which gave me the perfect excuse to break out my Kenneth Cole camel-colored knee boots. I wore them with my latest Scoop acquisition - a black long-sleeved Helmut Lang asymmetrical dress. My hair was pulled up in my signature messy bun, and between my Coach backpack and Scoop tote, I had packed everything I’d need for my first day.

I skipped Starbucks this morning. I didn’t want coffee breath while meeting my new co-workers. I also remembered there was a full cappuccino bar inside the office, which I planned on taking full advantage of.

When I walked in, George greeted me immediately.

“Sammy! You’re here! I’m so excited!” He ran over and gave me a hug.

“Hi George! It’s so great to see you again.”

“Can I just say that I am loving this outfit?”

“George, you are so good for my ego. I love you already.”

“I love you, Ginger Spice. That’s your official nickname. I nickname everyone. It’s part of my job description.”

“What’s Jackie’s nickname?”

“Oh, The Queen, of course. Come on,” he said, locking his arm in mine. “I’ll give you a tour of the office.”

He began explaining that the loft was arranged by departments. Directly across from his receptionist desk on the left was IT. Then about midway through and stretching all the way back to Jackie’s office was Creative. Behind George’s desk in the middle were two small areas covering HR and Finance, and then a larger area for Sales and Marketing. On the opposite side in the back corner was a kitchen and the cappuccino bar. Next to that was a decent sized photo studio and a lounge area that led back to the elevator and bathrooms.

He showed me over to my desk in the Creative Department. It was next to an enormous window that looked out at a brick wall. I wasn’t complaining. This was still the coolest office space I’d ever had. My desk was an ultra-modern curved design with a lever to adjust the height in case I wanted to stand. On top of it was an orange iMac and behind it a matching orange Aeron chair.

“Wait, I have an Aeron chair? Are you serious?”

“Everybody’s got one. Herman Miller gave us a great deal in exchange for photos of all of us fashionable people sitting in their chairs. Apparently the buzz worked because now the wait for an Aeron is longer than a Birkin.”

I laughed. Then I looked around and noticed that each department had different colored modular furniture, chairs and iMacs. The Creative Department was orange. IT was purple. Finance was blue. Human Resources was red. And Sales and Marketing was green. The entire office reminded me of The Time, a hotel in Times Square I’d stayed at once when visiting Josh where all the rooms were designed according to a primary color.

I sat my things down at my new desk, and then George began introducing me to everyone. I was blown away by the diversity of the company. It was about an even split men and women and it was the first place I’d ever worked where the majority of the people weren’t white. Just another reason I loved New York.

Around nine-thirty, Jackie arrived at the office carrying an enormous vase of beautiful fall flowers. She walked over to my desk and set them down. I stood up to greet her.

“Welcome Sammy!” she said, giving me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you. Me too! Your flowers are gorgeous.”

“These are your flowers,” she replied. “I got mine yesterday.”

I had never met anyone like Jackie. She was the freaking CEO of the company and she was bringing me flowers. I adored her already.

“Come with me,” she said. “I have another surprise for you.”

I followed her back to her office.

“Your first article is fantastic! We’re launching it today along with an introduction. I thought you should be the one to hit the publish button.”

She turned her monitor around and showed me the layout of my article. There, on the homepage of the website, was a photo of me wearing the Missoni dress and above it, the headline, “Welcome to the team, Sammy!” Below was a brief intro about my background and experience with the ad agency in Atlanta. Then a link that said, “check out Sammy’s first article, e-Styled: What to Wear to a Job Interview.”

“What do you think?” Jackie asked.

“It looks great! This is so exciting.”

“Well then. Just click the button here and you and your article will officially be live.”

I leaned over and double-clicked the mouse. I was published. Sammy St. Clair had arrived in New York City. I was ecstatic.

I floated back to my desk and got started on all the paperwork Victoria from HR had given me. Around noon, George was back.

“We’re ordering lunch from The Flame Diner. Do you want anything?”

“I would kill for a grilled cheese and fries right now.” I reached for my bag.

“Oh no, girl. There is no way you’re paying for lunch on your first day.”

“Thanks, George.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s here and we’ll eat in the lounge.”

About an hour later, the food arrived. I joined George and Patricia, the Editorial Assistant who sat next to me, in the lounge.

“So, George, what’s happening with your show?”

“I start rehearsals November 1st and it opens November 30th. It’s an evening of original ten-minute plays and I’m in two of them. It’s in the downstairs theatre space at The Drama Bookshop on 40th.”

“I will definitely come. I’ll bring my friends.”

“Did George tell you he wants you to be Ginger Spice for the Halloween party?” Patricia asked.

“What Halloween party?”

“Oh, we’re having a big party here in the office the Saturday before Halloween,” George said. “We’re dressing like the Spice Girls. You’re Ginger, Patricia is Scary, Ann Marie in IT is Sporty, Emily in Sales is Baby, and, of course, I’m Posh.”

“Of course you’re Posh.”

Patricia laughed. “I had to be Scary. George racially profiled me.”

“I profiled Sammy too because of her red hair.”

“Can we invite