Page 21 of Interning For A Billionaire

“Not a bad idea,” she says. “We do have some budget for this as well.

Samira suggests, “What if we send around a survey and ask people what they would like to do most on a Friday?”

I jump in, “And we could give them options, choose between a massage, a session with a counselor or meditation or yoga or something?

Josie thinks out loud, “We have an extra boardroom on the top floor… that could be converted to a therapy space for Fridays? I like it!”

I was tasked with writing the newsletter, which was distributed to the entire team in the afternoon. By Monday the next week, we had our answers. An overwhelming number of employees asked for massages, which posed a new problem, what if we have hundreds of employees wanting to come in for a back rub? I am tasked with coming up with a solution to the problem.

“Come with me!” I say to Samira one afternoon.

“What, now?” she checks her wristwatch as I pull her to her feet.

“Yes! It’s for work,” I wink at her.

We leave the office and grab an Uber to a shop in town advertising massage chairs.

“Oh, my God,” Samira says with a sigh as she sinks into one of the chairs for a demonstration, “These are heavenly!”

I close my eyes and lean back. The shop assistant switches off the lights and gives each of us an eye patch. Then he turns on some relaxing music.

“I will leave you here for fifteen minutes?” he suggests.

The next fifteen minutes are spent in absolute bliss, relaxing in the chairs, which start pulsing and vibrating in various motions. When the sensors target my neck, I feel a wonderful tingling going up and down my spine. The music sounds like rain in a forest, which briefly make me think of thunderstorms and flooding. But then it switches to pan fluty sounds, which are rather soothing. I stop wondering about where the pulses will go next and simply relax, letting my mind go.

When the fifteen minutes are up, I definitely want more.

“That felt fantastic,” Samira agrees. “I can’t believe it, but I actually feel so much more relaxed.”

After I get prices and details from the shop assistant, Samira and I go for coffee.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make kick boxing on Saturday morning,” she says, pulling a guilty face. “I just wasn’t up to it. I had a very late night.”

“What time did you leave on Friday night?” I ask.

“It’s not only what time I left, but with whom?” she says, dropping her voice and widening her eyes, dramatically.

“What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Did you go home with someone from work?”

She nods and smiles naughtily. “He lives on the other side of the city, so there was no way I could get to the gym on time!” She giggles again.

“Who is it?” I ask curious.

“You can’t tell anyone, promise!” she says.

“Of course,” I promise.

“It’s Piotr.”

“The guy who won the comedy stand-up?!”

Samira nods and smiles.

“I went over to congratulate him on his win, and we started talking. We have quite a lot in common, both of us are the children of immigrants etc., etc. He invited me for a drink after the event and we ended up going to his place.”

She rolled her eyes.

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