Page 5 of The Grumpy Billionaire

“I don’t need to promise. You know why? Because I’m an actual grown-up who knows how to act like a professional.”

“Of course you know how to act professional!” This line is not delivered convincingly, let’s just say.

I know what’s on her mind—on all their minds: If you’re so professional, why did your supposed dream job pay to relocate you to New York City and suddenly decide to claw back the offer?

What did you do?

Or worse, how could you have moved to a new city for a job that wasn’t even nailed down?

Thank her and get off the phone, thank her and get off the phone, thank her and get off the phone,I chant to myself.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for…reaching out on my behalf.”

“Of course, honey. Now what are you gonna do the minute you hang up from me? Are you gonna call Hugo’s contact in HR to set you up?”

I assure her that I will and click the call end button, grateful, at least, that I’m not facing a mirror, because I have no doubt that my face has transformed into a rictus of pure agonized mortification.

ChapterThree

Stella

Back in myold life in Madison, Wisconsin, I’d worked my way up from video editor to creative director at a super-hot marketing agency, and I was awesome at it.

I’d think up creative digital content that would grab eyeballs for our corporate clients—just enough to be edgy without upsetting the C-suite, as we liked to say. Idea in place, I’d wrangle my underlings into working with me on it.

It was mostly video stuff. Some animation—scroll-stopping reels showing things like the wonders of MapleKrunchers or the thrill of driving the new Ascot Turbo.

Clients would sign on with that agency specifically to work with me. Things were good!

I’d wear jeans and tees and Vans, sometimes even pajama pants—in the world of ad creatives, the better your ideas are, the more you should dress like you don’t care.

Nobody trusts a creative in a business suit, after all.

For the big meetings, I’d bust out the oversized blazer, Lycra shorts, and blue cowboy boots and go in there like colorful girl Johnny Cash.

Clients loved to see colorful girl Johnny Cash. Colorful girl Johnny Cash inspired confidence.

What do I not have? Clothes appropriate for an administrative assistant. And what else do I not have? The skills of an administrative assistant.

As Charlie always pointed out, I’m hopeless with numbers and organization, which is a big part of administrative work.

So when I call the number and discover they really do want me tomorrow, I spring into action.

First stop: Target’s business casual section. Next stop: YouTube tutorials on software that administrative assistants use. I spend most of the night learning a thing called Outlook and a little bit on PowerPoint.

* * *

My new work home,the Quantum Capital Partners admin pool, turns out to be a sea of cubicles in a big open area on the fifth floor of a Wall Street skyscraper. There’s a massive window on one side where you can look down and see gloomy, gray Wall Street. A glass wall on the other side showcases important-looking people rushing back and forth. Every once in a while, somebody comes to the desk at the front of the pool. My new supervisor, Viola, tells me that it’s the courier desk even though hardly anything is couriered anymore.

Viola has short blonde hair, dangly beaded earrings, and lots of suspicions about my qualifications. She’s been showing me procedures that involve functions in the obscure, outer-space reaches of the Microsoft Word toolbar, things I never had to use as a creative director.

Not thirty minutes into my training, Viola fixes me with a hard gaze. “You’re telling me you know Word? That’s what you’re telling me here?” This in the most accusatory of tones.

I did tell them I knew Word, or at least my résumé did, but the Microsoft Word that marketing people use is a simple fella. He wears a straw hat and rides around in hay carts and helps write documents.

Who knew MS Word had a whole secret life at the MS Word References rave bar?

“Just open up the clipboard panel,” Viola says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

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