Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
God, I hate to admit it, but I’m getting excited about pudding.
Even if this was about something as petty as a failed blind date, I’m excited.
But okay, it isn’t.
It isn’t just about the date. It’s not just about getting duped and getting revenge.
It’s more about the fact that I can’t get Evilla Cowbush out of my head.
Not just her purse-stuffing, crab-wielding antics either. She might have been playing a part, but half that part was the real her. Half that part was vibrant, vivacious, sassy as hell, smart, fearless, and funny. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She wasn’t afraid to walk out of that place with a purse full of crab legs. At the end of the night, she basically threw down a challenge. I wouldn’t dare buy this company, and I wouldn’t dare make this personal. I just wouldn’t dare in general because it would be so wrong and so childish. I wouldn’t, just because I could.
But I did.
And today is the first day it feels real.
I’m having zero meet and greets with the new company owner. Me. Everyone here knows the company has been sold, but I’d like a day here before I address everyone.
As president of the company, Mike had his office on the bottom floor of the building instead of the top. In preparation for the sale going through, he cleaned out his things well ahead of time. He’s going to travel for the next few years and then maybe buy something tropical next to his parents. I had a pang of jealousy, imagining him seeing the world and being carefree, but I had to wipe it out. Somedays, I think it would be nice to disappear. Put other people in charge and just vanish.
Today is not that day.
Today, I’m walking into the office that I’ll be occupying for the next little while.
I have a meeting booked with HR and Communications, both for one-thirty, so I can make it clear that no one is in danger of losing their job and that I plan for this to be a great thing. I’d like HR to send out a communication to the entire company, and if anyone has any concerns, I’d like them to be addressed in writing and carefully gone over. If anyone would like to leave due to the change in ownership, I think it’s only fair that I offer some kind of compensation package. But I’d really like people to stay, and I’m willing to do everything I already said. Paygrades, benefits packages, pensions. All of that has to be figured out because I’d like this to go over as smoothly as possible.
My new pudding HQ is nice. It’s not right downtown, which makes a lot of sense. It’s smart to pay less for real estate but still have a great location north of the area and a great building. The place is six stories, so it's not overwhelming. It’s older, mostly glass, and surrounded by different vibrant businesses. On my way here this morning, I counted at least forty-some restaurants and coffee shops that are within walking distance or a short drive.
As soon as I walk in the door, Marjorie, the building’s receptionist, greets me. The place has a nice, modern construction of wood and stone and an even nicer entrance. Everything is tiled and modern in very white, clean shades, and the lighting coming in from the glass windows makes the space look larger than it is.
“Hello, good morning.” The gold nameplate at the top of her desk sparkles. The coffee bar to the left is immaculately clean, as are the square wood coffee table in the middle of the lobby and the four white couches arranged around it. “What can I help you find today?”
“I’m actually…erm…Mont. Mont Montfield.” I could tell from her three rapid blinks that she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t internet search the hell out of me ahead of time, so I can only figure that’s a good thing. No one here seems to be living in fear of new ownership and all the changes. There’s only so much smoothing things over that I could do remotely.
Marjorie covers up any discomfort with a smile. “Oh, it’s great to meet you, Mr. Montfield. We have your office set up for you just down the hall. Would you like me to show you where it is?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
“I heard you were coming in today. We all did. The whole place is just buzzing.” Marjorie is probably in her early forties with a shorter brunette bob threaded through with steely grey hairs that don’t want to cooperate as they spring up here and there along her part.
Her dazzling smile matches her sparkly pink top and the sparkly heels she’s paired it with. I’m a little surprised to see she’s wearing jeans, but business casual is good. Wearing a suit to work gets old, and who trusts a suit anymore anyway?