Page 20 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
“And people don’t abuse it?” he asks.
"There are definitely some who take advantage," I admit, "but your father doesn't want to punish those who genuinely need it. There's a lot of trust here, and it pays off. Sick days are far below expectations." I open the stairwell door and let him go through first.
"He mentioned you’ve never missed a day."
"I haven’t been sick in three years."
"Never?" He smiles.
"Never. Just the occasional cough, a little sniffle, sometimes a headache. Manageable."
"You’re very loyal to my father. How much does he pay you?"
"Eight thousand pounds a month," I answer. "Very generous."
"Any other benefits?" We descend the stairs, signs pointing to the underground garage.
"Fourteen monthly salaries, plus allowances for trips abroad."
In the basement, I show him the storage rooms where we stash both old computers and new equipment, the technical room, heating and cooling systems, and other storages with items important for the company: from towels to medical products, office chairs to planters in case new plants are bought or someone knocks one over and it breaks.
"Okay, I've seen enough. Organize meetings with each department head. Individual sessions starting tomorrow at 10, ending at 4. Thirty minutes each, no breaks except lunch—1:30 to 2:30."
"There are eighteen department heads," I point out.
"I’ll be here all week."
"Friday we finish at one. At six, everyone is going to meet at a Country Inn in Mickleham for the summer party. We hold it there every year."
"A country inn?" He walks to the elevator that comes all the way to the basement and presses the button.
"Yes. All four hundred and six colleagues from the London HQ are invited, though only three hundred and forty-four accepted. The rest are on sick leave, vacation, or parental leave."
Alexander looks amazed.
"There’s a buffet in the hall, with tables, and the kitchen. In the garden outside, there are festival tents, barbecue spots, andseveral lounge areas fully equipped with garden furniture and recliners,” I explain. “It rained last year here and there, which is when we use the hall, but if the weather’s good, most of it is outside. There's a live band and a screen that will be used in the evening before your father gives his farewell speech."
The elevator doors open. To my surprise, he politely lets me go first. I press the top button, the doors close, and it begins to rise.
"Today I’ll retreat to a side office and familiarize myself. I’ll make calls, and don’t want to be disturbed. Tomorrow I start with the department heads." He takes out his phone. "Your number?"
I pause, caught off guard because I wasn’t expecting it. But I give him my number, and he saves it.
"Would you like to move into the lounge now or another office first?"
"Temporary office today. Tomorrow I’ll move into the lounge. I’ll be here at eight. I take my coffee—"
"With a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk," I cut him off.
His brows rise in surprise, then he nods.
Upstairs, I settle him in an empty office and bring him a company laptop and a cup of coffee.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" I ask nervously, standing at the door while he's already working on the laptop.
"Not for now. I’ll let you know."
"Okay. I’ll be at my desk."
