A few days later on a wonderful sunny August morning, I switch on the radio as I drive to work, as Dolly Parton is singing “Working Nine to Five”. I only know the chorus but my vocal chords take the battering of a lifetime. By the time I’ve reached the outside of the city centre, drumming my hand on the steering wheel at the traffic lights, I’m so fired up I’m practically raving in my seat.
It’s an important week this week. On Wednesday, I’ll be implementing the Nike UK plan. It’ll be the biggest challenge of my career to date, but one to which I’m determined to rise. This is the week I prove my worth to Mr Brown.
My phone rings and I reluctantly silence Dolly and connect to the hands free.
“Emma, it’s Alistair.” He doesn’t sound happy, but that’s only to be expected, given the week a
