My alarm is ringing, so I'm standing up for my morning coffee. It's a black one, without any sugar or milk, it's not my kind to be sweet and dreamy. The opposite is more my character of choice, not being social active with anyone, but my coffee maker. After my morning habit, I'm choosing an outfit to wear, nothing to ridiculous or ambitious, it should be simple and comfortable. So I take a pink blouse and a black trouser out of the wardrobe and putting black boots on my feet.
It's winter. Outside of the house are temperatures, you can freeze to death into seconds. Maybe I am not convenient with these cold winds and that much snow on the streets.
In New York it's always busy, there's no day you see cars standing still on the corb, no day you see people walking slowly, actually it is very comforting to hear noises coming from outside.
My apartment is kind of a big one, because I have way to many rooms in it. A kitchen, a living room, two bedrooms and two bathrooms are to big for only one person. So I'm going to work, make dinner after it, only to get enough sleep for the next day after I've eaten to much.
Now I'm packing my bag with the folders I've taken home with me yesterday to invest my time appropriately. Time is money. Money is my job to serve as a personal assistant.
My boss is George Roland, a famous eligible man, but exactly the same in his work. Nothing gets public, if it's not perfect in every way possible.
So as his PA you get the good recommendations and the bad critics, even if you don't want to hear about them. You are the hardworking, so you get just as much shit on your back.
"Good Morning Mr. Roland. Here's your usual coffee and the questioned files from Crispys."
"Thanks. Can you get me Drake's, too?", he is asking me quite fast. But I have known his attitude is a little bit harsh since I've started to work with him. No suprise at all, if you read the daily magazines about the famous and the rich.
"Of course, Sir. If there is nothing else I can do for you, I do as requested." I leave with a formal smile. Do be friendly with anyone, so you don't have to worry about silly rumors or stupid people normally. But there's often a person who is always angry with you, so you can do what you want to do, you're always on the bad side.
I take Crispys file on the computer screen, so I can see, if it's the right one. Yes, now I am sending it to my boss. Check. Just a second later I'm going my way to the coffee automat and get a cup of that holy mixture. After that I'm knocking on his office door and saying: "Mr. Roland, here's your new mug of coffee."
After a quiet answer of him, I open the door and set his coffee on the desk.
"Miss McKenzie, are you free on the evening? I got a charity event and I need somebody by my side."
"Of course, Sir, I am free for tonight. Do you go on the after party, too?"
He is shaking his head. "No, we must start the next day with a fresh and clear mind, so we are only settling for the main theme of the night. Thanks for your assistance."
"You are welcome." I am walking out of the office and going to my workplace.
As I am sitting down a bad thought about my free time is coming up. There's work, every day of the year, oh no, every second is the office on my mind, never getting a second of calm.
Should I not be outside, enjoying my life with twenty seven years on my backbone? Yeah, find some friends to go out and get a boyfriend, the love of my life? I wish it would happen. My brain is zoning out and my eyes are getting wet. No, I don't want to be left crying in the office. I am a loser, really.
To get away from this unfriendly wish, I put my energy into the work. There it's needed and I can ride into ignorance of the important things in the world. Yeah, good idea.
No self pity here is the first of the first goals of this company. Files must be loaded up, so every body can use them. Of course, important ones are only for exclusively members of Rolands. Naturally there's the boss, his secretary (me) and the first ones of the financial and personal sector, so everybody gets a veto in the processing of the firm.
I am looking up, as I notice somebody standing in the door frame. It's a man with good 5 feet and 9 inches height and he's wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. His blonde hair is standing out of the other colors. He is no sunny, so much I can guess.
"Tell Derek his brother is here, fast."
If I would be a new member of the secretaries club, I would be frightened to the moon, but I am working six years straight here and I'm knowing my position.
I am smiling at him and offering him a sitting place on one of the chairs. He is lifting his right eye brow and looking at me with a "seriously" kind of look. I am only nodding at him.
As he's taking a sit, I'm taking the telephone next to me and typing the office number of my boss into it. It's 639, if my mind isn't setting a trap.
"Roland here. How can I help?", he's offering a nice beginning.
"Mr. Roland, here is Wanda, your secretary. Next to me is a man sitting who's apparently your brother. Should I send him in?"
"Yes", is the only answer I get. What has happened between the two? It sounds like a fight between them, so I am pushing the upcoming thoughts away.