My Day - Sweet Melody

“You can do it!”   ALLISON     “You can do it!” I encourage myself for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes. I don’t have a habit of speaking to myself, rest assured. It’s just that today, I need courage. My name is Allison Melody Walker, and I’m currently very upset, though I’m not in a bad mood very often. Usually, I’m a calm and laid back person. Even though I tend to be anxious more than the average person, I hide it well. Except this morning. My stress is skyrocketing, and I can’t see how someone couldn’t notice it. Why am I so anxious? Well, it has been building for months—I knew this moment would come, but I managed to avoid it until a few days ago when my best friend, Zoe, exclaimed, “Sorry, but it’s out of the question! You won’t let us down. You have to keep your word! We had an agreement.” Zoe is a lawyer, and she probably thinks addressing me with authority will impress me, but I’ve known her for a long time, and I know that behind her confident and determined mask hides a sensitive woman. But I also know she can be tenacious. So when I heard her mention our pact, I knew she wouldn’t leave me alone unless I yielded. It all began when our friend, Amy, had this crazy idea that she called “My Day,” which consists of facing one of our biggest regrets and trying to rewrite the moment. The principle itself doesn’t bother me—taking action to rewrite our past and act more worthy of the women we’ve become is a great idea. The problem is that currently, I’m the one putting this concept into practice and my enthusiasm is tempered. Amy and Zoe have already had their “My Day.” Amy went to Santorini where her ex was on vacation. He cheated on her years ago, and she never had the courage to tell him a few home truths. One day, she got tired of being a prisoner of the past and persuaded us to embark with her on her adventure. Zoe followed her example by facing Solange, her high school rival, with surprising results. I’ve dragged my feet until now because, truth is, I’m not very good at confrontations. But a promise is a promise, according to the girls, and here I am in front of Jake Matthews’ office. Why did I have to put him at the top of the list of my biggest regrets? I could say I was sorry I didn’t changed my telephone subscription the last time my company increased the cost, but no ... I went ahead and talked about this stupid incident during my first baking contest in which Jake Matthews gave my apple pie a bad critique. It was seven years ago, and although I spent three years doubting my talent, I finally came to my senses and managed to overtake his judgment and my doubts. My brand, Sweet Melody, has taken off, and I’ve never been happier. My face doesn’t make the cover of magazines or anything, but my logo—a partition with musical notes in the shape of sweets—is recognizable. My cakes are appreciated, and I earn a good living. I supply my cakes to cafes and restaurants, and I accept orders from individuals occasionally. I opened a small shop in one of the most commercial areas of the city a year ago. I have very competent people working for me, and I focus on developing new recipes, which I like most. I recently launched a range of original pies, and they’re already a success. One of the city’s most luxurious hotels decided to include them on the menu of its restaurant, and the test was proven successful. Other establishments soon followed. The famous pie Jake Matthews found tasteless is among those that have had the most success. I’ve made some minor improvements, but it remains the same recipe, for the most part. Another reason to forget this incident, and yet I find myself in front of his office, ready to confront him about this moment. Although Zoe and Amy insist that what I’m about to do isn’t different from what they undertook, I disagree. Rewriting my day involves confronting one of the most well-known people in our city. Jake Matthews produces a popular cooking show, and his opinion counts in the milieu. He sometimes honors—although being an honor is up for discussion—culinary establishments by accepting to be a juror of the competitions they organize. This is where I had the “chance” to cross his path. And since I’m confiding in you, I’ll admit that before this event, I had a crush on him. He had been just starting out, and who could resist an attractive young man who spoke with passion about cooking and his dream of making good food essential to people? As it often goes, the reality was quite different. His picture regularly adorns magazines, and he’s regarded as an honest and fair critic, even though I wouldn’t consider him that. I think he should decline to give his opinion To be a good judge, one must take into account the fact that behind every cake, every dish, there is a human being who can be touched by one’s words, which he doesn’t seem to realize. And please don’t act like my mother and say that when we agree to participate in a competition, we should expect that we may not appeal to everyone. There’s a right way and a wrong way to criticize. When I give my opinion, I emphasize the good points before highlighting the weaknesses of someone’s work. I intend to explain this to Jake Matthews and tell him next time he’d better think a little longer before issuing a murderous critique. I try to muster up my courage, but standing in front of his office, I want to run away. My determination isn’t adamant. Confronting an ex or a school nemesis is easier. We have the ammunitions to do that, but to face a public figure–a person who doesn’t know me–could go wrong in so many ways. What if he makes a phone call and orders his security team to unceremoniously throw me out? Okay, it’s possible my imagination gets carried away a bit. I had no trouble getting to his office, which is astonishing. I expected and stressed over high level security, but nothing happened. An elevator carries me to the fourth floor where there are two offices. It isn’t difficult to find his door–his name is written in elegant letters, though more discreet than I would have thought. My friends are right. My task shouldn’t be too complicated, but when I stress, I tend to babble and end up embarrassing myself even further. So, I’d rather turn around, go back to my boutique, and forget the whole story. Nevertheless, the idea of having to justify myself to Zoe isn’t very appealing either. I did come prepared though; I know what I have to say. The trick is not to give him the opportunity to respond. In short, I intend to tell him how his critique discouraged me at the time, but I managed to overcome it and am proud of my career. He, however, should be less proud of his lack of consideration for other people’s feelings. This shortcoming made him give a negative judgment that was not pertinent to my pie. I’m not lying when I say I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. I work hard to present a new recipe each week to my clients. Coming up with these new recipes takes time, but I know my clients like this regularity. I improvise depending on the season and try original recipes. It’s as if I have a playground and I can invent new games every day. One might ask why I still think about this incident if I’m so satisfied with my life. For starters, while I know as professionals we are supposed to be impervious to criticism, I was only eighteen at the time. I definitely wasn’t prepared to receive such a bad critique. So yes, it probably affected me more than it should have, which I’m aware of. I won’t lie to you—I’m still not used to criticism, but I have learned to take it with a grain of salt. Any creative profession is exposed to detractors, no matter how much effort you put into it. What I can’t accept is the critique itself. Maybe the word “tasteless” doesn’t seem that harsh to you, but saying it was “inedible” would upset me less. “Tasteless” seems to be the height of negativity to a baker or a cook. I debate whether I should tell him how long it took me to get over this incident. During the year that followed this unfortunate contest, I accepted a receptionist position because I couldn’t see myself continuing to invent recipes. I felt paralyzed every time someone tried my creations. I know I shouldn’t have paid attention to that i***t, but my friends and fellow students respected him, and we were all convinced his opinion had merit. It took me another two years, during which I enrolled again in a pastry school while trying hundreds of recipes at home, to regain confidence. Meanwhile, I held several jobs as a temp—jobs that had no connection with the kitchen—to pay for my schooling and give me a safety net. These thoughts reinforce my idea to go through with my plan. I owe it to everyone who has dreams and fights for them. I’ll talk to him and tell him how unacceptable his behavior was. What right does he have to shatter other people’s dreams? I turn around to give my reflection a last glance in the mirror when I bump into someone. Coffee splashes my shirt and the shirt of the man now standing in front of me. The expression in his piercing blue eyes leaves me in no doubt about his displeasure, and I recognize with horror it is Jake Matthews. Awesome! Our second encounter is going as well as the first. I’m about to apologize when he says, “Not only are you late, but you’ve ruined my shirt. You’ve already made quite a first impression. Tell me, how am I supposed to trust you to manage my calendar?” “Your calendar?” What the hell is he talking about? And he could be a little more gracious about the incident–I didn’t ruin his shirt intentionally. “My calendar. You’ve been sent by the agency to replace Margo during her absence, haven’t you?” He thinks I’m a temp. I’ve experienced this kind of behavior before; a boss who sees you as a necessary evil, only there to replace his favorite employee who had to take a leave of absence. I don’t know what goes through my head when I hear myself saying, “Yes, of course. But–” Voice sharp, he cuts me off. “I don’t have time to listen to your excuse I’m going to change. Be ready to start in five minutes.” I quickly organize my thoughts. Jake Matthews thinks I’m here to replace someone named Margo, who’s likely his personal assistant. I’m not an outstanding assistant, but I held enough emergency positions when I was working as a temp that I know I can do it. I can stay here a few days to have more than just a verbal confrontation with him because apparently this i***t hasn’t changed at all. He’s still rude and believes he can do whatever he likes. Are you surprised I made such a decision so fast? Well, me too. This isn’t like me at all, but I’m glad I did it. I will be able to manage two jobs—office assistant by day, pastry chef by evening. I can even afford to spend a month here, as I’m always a few weeks ahead when it comes to my creations. My employees can handle everything during my absence. Amy was right–this idea of rewriting our day is great, and I don’t believe in coincidences. If the universe gives me the opportunity to work for Jake Matthews, it’s because it has a purpose. I can earn his trust and then design the perfect plan that will make him fall from his pedestal. He’ll get what he deserves. I try to erase the stain from my shirt as best as I can before buttoning up my jacket, taking a deep breath, and entering his office. He looks up from his desk when I step forward. “What’s your name?” I meet his gaze. “Allison Walker.” I don’t need to invent another name. I’m sure he doesn’t remember an Allison Walker whose creation he judged seven years ago. “Margo left instructions on what to do during the day, but you must consult with me every morning. My priorities may change. I’m guessing you have enough experience so you won’t make mistakes that will cost me time.” He stares me down, his brow furrowed in a skeptical expression. I feel the urge to throw him an insult, but I restrain myself. This isn’t the time to lose my cool, and I’m not very proud to let him ruin my usually good mood. It takes a lot to annoy me in general, but apparently, Jake Matthews doesn’t require too much effort. “Of course I’ll be careful, but I hope you’ll be lenient in case of a blunder. It’s not easy to take the place of your assistant in the space of a few hours. I’ll count on you to guide me.” I don’t know if my honeyed tone seemed too fake, but I see an amused glow appearing in his eyes, immediately replaced by a stern look. “You come from a recommended placement office. I expect you to be operational immediately.” “I will be. Give me an hour to familiarize myself with the instructions Margo left, and I’m all yours.” As soon as the words leave my lips, my forced smile slips and heat infuses my cheeks, as I realize the unfortunate combination of my words. “I wouldn’t dare to ask that much,” he says, and this time the amusement is undoubtedly there. I turn abruptly and head to Margo’s desk. It is a bright office with a panoramic view. It’s decorated with taste, and I feel immediately at ease. I discover, in a few minutes, that Margo is actually more than competent. I understand his frustration at having to work with an unknown. She left very clear instructions on what I have to do. She also left a not-so-ordinary personal note.   Hello, beautiful stranger. Although I’m on my honeymoon, I’ll miss my job. I’m the kind of person who loves to come to the office every day and argue with her boss. No, I’m not complaining. Jake’s the ideal boss, maybe because I’m the perfect employee. I can picture you shaking your head. I’m used to this kind of reaction, but ... as I’m a kind soul, I’ll ignore your gesture of disbelief and warn you about one thing: do your job conscientiously, and Jake will be happy. Don’t pay attention to the way he says things sometimes. He can be abrupt, but truth is, he’s the best employer one could dream of having. So hang in there, and the first time he yells at you, remind him I’ll be back in a month, and I can avenge you very easily.   “Now that we’ve established excellent contact, don’t even dream of taking my place. I know it may seem tempting, but after enjoying my honeymoon, I’ll be back, and I doubt you would want to have me as opponent. Under my mask of a respectable woman and model employee is a real terror.”   Margo J   I’m definitely amused–her note gives me even more desire to stay. Half an hour later, I’m working on to sorting emails by priority when a girl with long legs wearing a dress a little too daring for such an early hour comes and stands in front of my desk. “Hi, I’m Kathleen Monroe. I’m here to replace Margo Radisson. I’m a little late; my car wouldn’t start.” I knew I had forgotten something essential. If you need a reason to admire me, here it is. I look up at her with an apologetic smile. “Oh, Miss Monroe, I’m sorry to have made you come all the way here. We haven’t had time to warn you of our change of plans. We no longer need your services.” Her face morphs into an annoyed expression, which causes me to quickly add, “But you’ll be paid as agreed, of course. I would advise you to enjoy your good fortune and take a vacation.” She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t understand ...” “Your salary will be paid to your agency for the full month without you having to come to work.” I’m itching for her to leave as fast as possible. To my dismay, she’s slow to react. “Are you sure?” “Positive. As it turns out, I won’t be going on a trip, so I don’t need to be replaced.” “You are Margo Radisson, right? I thought you would be on your honeymoon.” “You and me both.” My voice trembles a bit. I hope she understands what I’m getting at. Her eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry!” “That’s why I need to be here,” I reply with a long sigh to keep up the ruse. “I understand. It’s just that I really wanted to work for Jake Matthews ...” Oh no. I hope she’s not a groupie who’ll now ask me if she can see her idol up close. I’m also hyper-aware of the fact that he may come out of his office any second and ruin all my plans. “I’d be happy to introduce you to him. Unfortunately, he’s in a meeting.” She frowns in disappointment but says, “Of course, I understand.” “I’ll walk you out,” I say, almost pushing her toward the exit. If the agency calls, I need to be the one to intercept the call. Or better yet, I’ll take the lead and send a letter explaining the situation. Kathleen finally leaves. Crisis averted. Jake didn’t call me once all morning, and it’s eleven o’clock when a girl with shoulder-length, golden-highlighted hair and a bright smile interrupts me. “Hello. I’m Emily Matthews, Jake’s sister. You must be here to replace Margo.” “Yes, hello. Allison Walker,” I say with a smile, reaching out a hand to shake hers. She turns toward Jake’s office. “Is he in?” “Yes, but I haven’t spoken to him since I arrived this morning.” “That doesn’t surprise me,” she responds, rolling her eyes. “He must be lamenting Margo’s absence. Every time she takes a vacation, he spends his time looking for faults in her substitutes. He needs a little time to get used to another presence in front of him. Don’t pay him any particular attention. My brother sometimes behaves like an i***t whose manners leave a bit to be desired, but working with him can be fun and interesting. He’ll probably give you a good recommendation. He might complain about the fact that no employee comes close to Margo, but they all end up finding a permanent position after working here.” “Maybe, but I doubt this will be my case. Unfortunately, he and I got off on the wrong foot,” I say and recount the coffee incident to her. She laughs and smiles at me. “I would have liked to witness that.” Jake’s door opens. “I see you are swamped with work,” he says snidely. Ignoring his rude tone and glare, I begin to explain. “I was just telling–” Emily interrupts me. “Jake, stop trying to terrorize everyone. You’re not as convincing as you think.” I wouldn’t be so categorical. If it’s a role, he deserves an award. They enter his office and shut the door. During the following half-hour, I sometimes hear voices raised but their discussion is dotted with laughter. Who could have imagined he was able to laugh? Apparently, he has a good relationship with his sister. When Emily leaves, she invites me to lunch the next day, which I gladly accept. It will perhaps allow me to discover Jake’s weak points and better develop my plan of attack. I spend the rest of the day following Margo’s instructions to the letter. Despite an overloaded schedule, I understand why she loves her job—she can’t get bored for a second. Her tasks vary: send flowers to the last program guest, coordinate the next market survey on the show, or prepare brief records on the course of the guests’ careers. No wonder she’s indispensable. There are many daily tasks that may be a little repetitive, such as making appointments for Jake–or avoiding them if they come with a crazy request. Margo left a whole page with excuses that women invent to see him. I thought she was exaggerating to make me laugh, but when the fourth call of the morning was a woman claiming she won a contest to have dinner with him, I realized Margo’s list wasn’t a joke. I intend to study the list tonight because I’m sure I’ll need to know what other excuses to expect. After lunch, Jake doesn’t return to the office. When he returns at 6:30, he looks at me in surprise. “What are you still doing here? Unless there’s an emergency, you’re free to go at five.” “I had some details to take care of so I can have a head start tomorrow. I figured you were used to Margo working hard,” I say as I go ahead and shut down the computer. “Margo doesn’t work hard. She works smart.” Did he just insult me? Seeing my expression, he adds, “If you think Margo stays late for any reason other than the office being on fire, you’re mistaken. She never puts work above her personal life. From the moment she started dating Harry, she has always left at five o’clock sharp.” I’ll admit that I’m surprised. I was sure Margo had a bed hidden here. “As I’ve already said, Margo knows her priorities and she–” “—works smart,” I finish sassily. His spontaneous smile makes my heart stop. Panicked, I avoid his gaze by looking at the file in front of me. There’s no way my heart will betray me. I will not fall for Jake Matthews’ smile. I hear him wish me good night, and I do the same without looking up. What if he read on my face that I found him irresistible for a moment? A few minutes later, I leave the office myself.