Mia's heart was racing as she and Claire walked towards Mr. Greg Thompson's corner office. She knew she was prepared, but a part of her felt that her heart wasn't in this. But she didn't know what else to do if not this.
Claire knocked on the door and opened it, not waiting for a response. Inside, the clutter of papers on the wide desk mirrored the chaos in Mia's mind. Mr. Thompson, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, was busy clacking away on his computer, seemingly oblivious to their arrival.
"You called for us?" Claire spoke, trying to draw Mr. Thompson's attention to them. He raised a finger, signaling them to wait. He continued staring at his screen intently. Mr. Thompson was a middle-aged man who reminded Mia a lot of her dad. He had always been kind to them, and she knew that a kind boss was a rare occurrence in journalism.
He finally looked up and offered a kind smile. "Good morning, ladies. How are you both this fine morning?" He asked in such a kind manner that Mia couldn't help but think Mr. Thompson must have been quite the charmer in his younger days.
"Great, thanks for asking, Mr. Thompson." Mia replied, which was an outright lie.
"Why'd you call for us, Greg?" Claire cut to the chase, never one to dilly dally.
"I had a bit of time to read more of your pitch deck, Mia," he said gently. "Look, I think you're a great writer, but I don't think this story is it."
"It?" Mia asked, confused and a little hurt.
"There's nothing new. It's not something I think people would want to read. Basically, it feels like cannon fodder." Ouch. That stung Mia deeper than she thought it would. She was used to criticism, but after three years of putting in the work in this field, two of which in this company, she was starting to get chunks taken out of her protective armor.
"I put more work into it last night, Mr. Thompson. I think if you took a look at this—" she began.
"Mia, I'm sorry, but I really don't think this is worth our resources." Mr. Thompson cut her off.
"But—" She tried to argue.
"I think you haven't gotten your toes wet enough. You need to see more stories out there that we look for in a feature writer," Mr. Thompson began. "Claire and I have been talking, and we think you need to buddy up with a writer for the next month."
Mia looked at Claire, feeling a little betrayed. Buddying up meant pairing her with another journalist, covering their story alongside them, co-writing and acting almost as an assistant, despite the label being stated as equals.
Claire felt Mia's aggravation immediately and her eyes were soft as she spoke. "Mia, please don't take this as a bad thing. I'm so proud of how far you've come, and I know that you'll make it even further than either Greg or I, but sometimes writers need a little nudge, and I think it's time you got one."
A nudge? Mia thought to herself. Claire had always had her back the past two years, so this felt like a shock to her system, but at the same time, she knew from experience that Claire was in her corner, even though she couldn't understand at this moment.
"After the month's up and you feel like exploring this story further, go ahead. We know it'll be of help, and getting out there with a buddy might even help you give it a fresh new angle," Claire said.
Mia blew air out of her mouth, exasperated. "Okay, sure, I'll buddy up with someone. Who is it gonna be? Fred? Leon?" She asked, mentioning names of her more senior colleagues whom she's looked up to for some time.
Mr. Thompson looked at her directly and smiled. "Actually, you're going to be with Andrew."